 
Helen On the Run—The Lost Years

by Kay Hemlock Brown

Copyright © Kay Hemlock Brown, 2018

Published at Smashwords, Smashwords.com

ISBN 0-9780463047750

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# Table of Contents

Author's Note,

Prologue

Troubles with the Law

Counseling

Claire

The Meetings

Poison

Gena!

On the Run

Penny

Cadillac

Steve Johnson

Worries about Income

What to do next?

Visitors at the Campsite

Driver's License

The Cabin

Music

Michelle

Waiting Tables

Alyssa

Carol and Barbara

Paula

Thanksgiving

The Galaxy Show

Messiah.

Minnesota

Ferguson School

The Music Teacher

Christmas!

First Day of School

Choir and Band

Jeffrey

Saturday

Sunday

The Doctor

Jeffrey talks to Barbara

The Doctor

A call for Barbara

Sunday with Marion

Answering Machine

James.

Penny's Secret

Acting Principal

Vicky Rhodes

Graduation

Trial.

Summer

Jeffrey and Barbara

Kansas

Janet and Family

The Gibsons in Maryland

Nadia, and Westfield

Olive

Sophie

# Author's Note

This particular episode from the story of Helen is being pieced together from a mixture of computer files, paper notes, and my memory. It's a long story, but for various reasons I did not take the time to carefully type in every scrap of the story when I began using a computer, so some of these episodes are missing from the Big Helen file, hence the subtitle: _The Lost Years_. The amount of detail I have been able to put in varies from paragraph to paragraph, and I apologize!

# Prologue

Helen Nordstrom, a graduate student studying for her doctorate in music at a university in Philadelphia, was an accomplished lyric soprano, as well as a violinist, and well on her way to becoming a sought-after conductor of small-scale Baroque works. After major surgery to remove a brain tumor, she had been a total amnesiac for a little more than a year, during which time she had come to know a small family with two young children, Gena, 11, and Alison, a few months old. The children tragically lose their parents, and Helen obtains custody of the children, which was the wish of their dying mother. Helen regains most of her memories, and resumes her concert schedules, while collaborating with her mentor, Dr. Nadia van der Wert, to scan or photograph all available manuscript sources of the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, before they were locked up with copyright restrictions.

Helen had amassed a small fortune while still in college, dancing under an assumed name at certain nightclubs, and now she lived modestly in a small home in the outskirts of Philadelphia with her lover, beautiful model Michelle Smith, and the two little girls. In her youth Helen's image had been widely seen on national television, but she had dropped out of sight for more than ten years, and was now anxious to keep a lower profile than she had at one time. But inevitably, Helen's concert appearances received a certain amount of publicity, and gradually the fact that she was the foster mother of two little girls, and a lesbian to boot, was becoming better known. (At this time, the political climate was still not friendly towards lesbian couples who wanted to adopt children, and public opinion was strongly polarized over the issue.)

# Troubles with the Law

Gena attended a Quaker School in their neighborhood, which let out when Helen was still at school. Gena stayed with friends who lived near the school, and was dropped off home an hour or so later. One day, when Helen returned home earlier than usual, she found a man and a woman on her doorstep, ringing the bell, and Michelle's dog Lucy furiously barking at them from inside the house. Michelle was away on a job, and Gena was with friends, who would drop her off a little later. Helen had taken baby Alison to work with her, and Allie was in the baby carrier strapped to Helen's back, and watching over her shoulder.

"Hello, can I help you?" asked Helen.

"We're looking for Helen Nordstrom; is that you, ma'am?"

"Yes, it is!"

The woman held out a piece of paper, and spoke to Helen with a serious expression. "I'm from the Department of Family Services, and I have been asked to inspect your home, and interview you. Do you have a minute?"

Helen was stunned. She could not think why the Department of Family Services would want to interview her. The woman, who appeared to be in charge, introduced herself as Eve Watkins.

"Please come in," Helen said, automatically polite to the two officials, who looked like harried lower-level employees who did not seem particularly anxious to carry out the inspection. "Can I offer you anything?"

They politely declined and stepped inside, looking around, and studying their clipboards with worried frowns.

To Helen's questions they answered politely, and when Helen quieted the dog, and took them around the house, they seemed more than satisfied with the place from the point of view of cleanliness and hygiene. They were particularly interested in the rooms of the children, and Helen was anxious that they should not go into her own bedroom, which had posters of Michelle on the walls, both nude and partially clothed.

They sat down, and asked Helen questions about how the girls were taken care of while Helen was at school, and Helen answered them evidently to their satisfaction.

"What is this all about?" asked Helen, finally.

"Well, there seems to be someone who wants the children put in foster care."

"Foster care?" Helen was upset and angry. She had begun to suspect that this was where it was all heading very soon after the two people had begun to inspect the house. "I have legal custody of the girls already! I can show you the court order..."

While she was looking for the paperwork, Gena was dropped off, and found Helen looking very upset indeed. She took Helen aside and asked her, "What's going on, Mama? Who are those people?"

Helen was so upset, she could not think of what to say. She said she'd explain later. "It's about the custody," she said briefly.

The two officers inspected the paper, and asked whether they could take it with them. Helen politely refused and said that she would send a photocopy of it, if they would tell her where to send it.

Gena quickly realized that something was wrong, and Lucy picked up on it from inside the kitchen, and began to bark. Alison was in Helen's arms, and was asking Helen what was happening in her baby babbling, and Helen was trying to calm her down. Helen excused herself, and made a panic call to Becky, Helen's business manager, and within minutes, Becky, and Lorna, Becky's girlfriend, were at Helen's door, to provide moral support.

"We're just here to make a report, Miss Nordstrom; nothing is going to happen until the entire situation is studied by the office. We aren't here to take the children away or anything like that, at the moment."

That sounded utterly frightening to both the girls and to Helen. Gena began to panic, and Alison invariably panicked when Gena did. Amidst much confusion the officials left, leaving Helen, the girls, Becky and Lorna thoroughly upset.

It took a long while for Helen to calm down. She could not even eat; she felt physically ill, as she always did when she was faced with most kinds of serious emotional problems. Worst of all, she found it hard to talk to Gena, who wanted to know every detail.

"Can they do that, Mama?"

"I don't think so, darling, but...I don't know anymore..."

Of course, at this point Gena burst into tears again. "Oh Mama!!! Tell me they can't do it! Will they take Allie and me to jail?"

Helen explained that it was more a matter of Helen herself being taken to prison. As soon as the words left her lips, she realized that it was no comfort to the little twelve-year-old.

"Oh God Mama!! No!! They can't do that! That's awful! Oh I'd rather die! Poor Allie! Why do they want to do this to us?"

If Helen never loved the child before, she would have loved her then. Gena clung tight to Helen, destroyed by the mere thought that Helen might go to jail. She began to recount all the stories she had ever heard of what it was like in prison. "You don't ever want to go there! Becky, fix it somehow, please, so Mama doesn't go to jail!"

Lorna and Becky had to talk calmly to the children, both of whom were tearful now, Allie having picked up on Gena's distress as being relevant to her somehow.

A few minutes later, Becky had retained a lawyer, Susie Jacobs, and later that afternoon, Susie and Becky and Lorna all came over, and they were seated around the dining table, talking.

Susie was on the phone talking to a family law specialist she knew, and after almost half an hour she came back looking grim. She had spent some time studying the paperwork Helen had been given, going over it with a fine-toothed comb.

"I don't know," she said. "My friend is stumped. Until we know more about the investigation, she can't tell what we should do. It's too late now to go downtown and root around."

The papers said only that serious charges about Helen's character had been made, and that the Court was seeking to place the children in temporary foster homes until Helen's fitness to be in charge of them was established.

They argued over the status of Helen's custody of the children, and made calls to California to consult with the lawyers there who had done the initial work on the adoption. As time went on, Helen became less and less confident about the final outcome of the struggle.

Lorna arrived early in the morning, as she always did, to help Helen get the kids ready. Soon afterwards the social worker was back, with some burly looking men in a van. Helen was caught by surprise, and had to struggle to keep her anger hidden.

"Ms. Nordstrom? We have instructions to remove your children to foster homes pending a hearing."

Helen hadn't slept much, and had no energy to argue. But she persisted. "Is this necessary? The older girl is on her way to school, sir; this is going to be very disruptive! I'm not going to run away or anything; I'm not a criminal, sir. If the court wants them to be safe..." Tears began to leak out, "... it can be assured that they will be safe with me. I give you my solemn word that they will be safe here."

"You are on your way to work, right?"

"Yes, but I have arranged..."

"Miss," he said, and Helen had to admit he sounded very understanding, "this is all about whether you're able to take care of the kids. You can't ferry them to work, leave them in the care of various people, that sort of thing."

Helen could have screamed. "Is that what this is about? That I'm not putting them in day care?" She was polite, but no more.

"I honestly don't know, miss. I have to admit that they look well taken care of. But my opinion doesn't matter; the court has to decide what to do with the kids."

Gena began to bawl and cling to Helen, and Allie did the same, and Helen couldn't cry now. It would look ridiculous if they were all crying, and the man was forced to take the kids just because Helen was too emotional to handle them.

"This is your fault," she said. "These are not children who cry all the time! Gena is a student who does well in school, and Allie is a very well-behaved baby!"

"I can see that, miss..."

"How can it be to their benefit to put them in the home of some stranger..."

"No, not at all, miss; the lady is waiting in the van right now; she is an experienced foster parent, and the baby will be in excellent hands, I assure you."

Michelle looked expressionless. Helen looked at her and felt even more miserable than before; Michelle wasn't taking it at all well. Helen wondered whether perhaps Michelle blamed her for this mess.

Helen turned to Eve and begged. "What about a compromise; can't you let them stay with family friends? There are a few families I know... wait..." she picked up her phone and called Becky and told her what was happening. She found some hidden reserve of strength to keep trying. She was now going to be late for classes. There seemed to be something almost sinister about the timing of these apparent 'attacks' on their home. She glared at Ms. Watkins and the man. They were talking to their head office and now they seemed to be trying to cooperate with Helen to keep the children with friends rather than foster homes. Helen finished talking to Martha, Dr. Martha Singer, who was Helen's professor and advisor (and in fact, Becky's mother,) who undertook to take care of Helen's recitation sections, and said she herself would be along as soon as she could.

Martha and Rebekah arrived shortly after 8:30, and Lorna left for school, looking and feeling miserable, a sad figure scurrying off, glancing back often at Helen standing at the door, her face full of sympathy for Helen and shared misery. Shortly afterwards, Helen got a call from the Welfare office supervisor.

It was a man who spoke very loudly, with an overbearing manner. He began with a sigh, as if dealing with some kind of idiot teen mother. Helen immediately calmed down, and a little steel crept into her voice.

"Yes, this is she."

"Well, my staff is advising me to compromise. I have decided to let you suggest a suitable temporary home for the children. Who do you have in mind?"

Helen's voice was very cool. "I'm sorry, sir; I'm not in a position to give you names without checking with the people first. And most of them are working families, and as you can imagine, they are all at work. My friends are missing work to be here to support me! I have to tell you, your timing couldn't have been chosen to be more difficult for me. I'm late for work..."

"We have to get you when we can, Miss. You're hardly ever home; we've tried to be there when you arrive home from work, but your hours are hardly those of reasonable people. These are some of our complaints."

"I'm a graduate student, sir. Have you heard of a graduate student whose hours have been regular?" Helen was seething.

A patronizing note crept into his voice when he explained that he had a master's degree, and with proper planning there should be no need for irregular hours.

Arguments would get Helen nowhere, she realized. She saw that letting her negotiate with whom the children would be allowed to stay was a huge concession in their eyes. Martha was signaling her. She excused herself for a minute (the man sighed again) and went to talk to Martha.

She couldn't talk until she first got herself under control.

"I could take the kids," Martha said.

Helen sagged. "I don't know if they'll buy it," she said; "after all, you're at work most of the day!"

"Becky is home; she can do it," Martha said.

"Yes, Helen; I'll take care of Allie," Rebekah said, with some anticipation, Helen thought. Rebekah had never shown an interest in children at all until now.

"It's settled, then," Martha said. "Let me talk to the man."

Martha introduced herself, and discussed the arrangements with the supervisor and the two agents; and sometime later, the children, their bags, and Martha and Rebekah and the social workers departed for the Singer home. Helen waited until they were out of sight, and turned around, feeling weak. Only Michelle was there, dressed as conservatively as she could, in clothes borrowed from Helen.

It was a long-drawn-out process, but here are the main facts.

Sue was able to find out that the Philadelphia court was being influenced by some private party whose identity they could not find out. When Helen had her day in court, despite Gena's clear evidence in favor of Helen—which everyone except the judge found persuasive—the children were taken from Helen and put in the charge of a certain elderly couple, the Benedicts. (Much later they discovered that it was the Benedicts themselves who had started off the entire case, arranged for aspersions to be cast on Helen's qualifications for being given custody of a pair of orphan girls, especially since she was a lesbian, and since she had separated from the woman who had been her partner when custody was initially granted, and raise doubts concerning how permanent Helen's partnership with anyone was likely to be.) In addition, the prosecution had discovered that Helen had been a nude dancer at a nightclub in her college years. That was evidence that the prosecution parlayed with great effectiveness. So the children's clothes and toys were packed up, and they were taken away. Only Gena's journal, a sort of diary she kept, was left behind.

Helen went into something close to depression. Only the fact that she was able to get permission to reduce her academic load was going to enable her to finish the semester. Michelle helped Helen as much as she could. She was not an assertive personality, and Helen's mood affected Michelle far more than Michelle was able to influence Helen's mood, and keep her cheerful. Lorna showered Helen with love, and Helen had to make a tremendous effort to moderate how affectionate Lorna was, despite the fact that Helen now lived alone with Michelle and the dog Lucy. (Lorna's attentions had played a part in Helen's breakup with her former partner, Lalitha. But there was little Helen could do about Lorna; the young woman simply adored Helen.)

# Counseling

Helen needed to find the services of a psychologist, just to be able to function for the next several weeks. Her friends recommended one Dr. Claire Watson, who was checked out by Becky, and Marika and Lisa. Claire was well known as a person who had helped numerous professional women who happened to be lesbians, with problems dealing with their careers and broken relationships. She herself was a lesbian, and she understood Helen's problem well.

Claire was convinced that Helen could get the children back. But as long as Helen had difficulty staying with one woman, she said, anyone who wanted to get the kids away from Helen would have an easy time, especially with the law being the way it was.

Meanwhile, the psychologist, a lovely, soft-spoken woman, was falling under Helen's spell. She empathized so much with Helen, that often, after Helen left her office, she had to take some time to calm herself down. One day, when Helen began to sob in her office, she began to sob too, and Helen offered to find another counselor.

"It's part and parcel of the job," said Claire. "Don't worry about me; I have ways of coping."

Helen took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to be all right, doctor," she said softly. "I'm getting accustomed to... not having the girls with me."

"What has changed, Helen?"

"Nothing... just time, I suppose. The girls must be happy, or I'd have heard something from _somebody,"_ Helen replied.

But an alarm went off in Claire's head, and she finished the session quickly, and once Helen had left, called Dr. Martha Singer, Helen's academic advisor.

Helen went home, and waited for Michelle to return after a studio session in New York. Helen sat with Michelle's dog Lucy, a beautiful Collie, and petted the dog, and the two gazed sadly at each other.

Helen heard Michelle get in from work, and she presently appeared, changed into her jeans.

"How are you doing?" Michelle asked softly.

"I want to kill myself," said Helen, her eyes dry.

Michelle just sat on the back steps with Helen, and was silent a long time. "There's nothing left for me, then, Helen," she said.

"Michelle; you don't have to pretend that what we have is some amazing, eternal... magical love. I know you don't love me _that_ much."

"I do!"

They argued for hours, but at the end of it, Helen and Michelle planned to get enough sleeping tablets to kill themselves, and to get some poison to put Lucy to sleep as well.

Helen had been prescribed some mood drugs, which she just _had_ to take, to keep functional. She went about her business feeling strangely calm, but very sick. Killing herself was one thing, but taking Michelle and the dog Lucy into oblivion with her felt wrong. Helen knew that Michelle had been in a very bad way just before she had met Helen, and the meeting had saved Michelle's life. This was apparently not the first time Michelle had planned to kill herself and the dog.

Martha Singer had taken Dr. Claire Watson's phone call, and when the psychologist had said that she suspected Helen was suicidal, Martha had felt that she was probably right.

"Keep her distracted for a week or two," Claire said, "I think I have an angle that could make a big difference!"

"I don't think she will do anything rash until the semester is over," said Martha. "She knows that there are young people depending on her—her students, specifically—and she will make sure that everything is settled before, you know? Before..."

"Don't take any chances. Think of something definite! Something specific, to keep her involved and distracted for a few days."

It just so happened that a meeting of the American Bach Society, the ABS, was scheduled for that Thursday, running through the weekend. Martha did not give any indication that she was aware of Helen's mental state, but she managed to catch Michelle on the phone when Helen was away, and got her on board with the plan to take Helen to the meetings, which were to be held in Providence, Rhode Island that year. "Just encourage her to go," Martha told Michelle. "This has to do with her doctoral thesis, and it could be a really significant contribution to the legacy of the composer," meaning J. S. Bach, in whose music Helen had specialized.

Michelle had taken off from work on the pretext of being unwell, but the fact was that she was afraid of putting Helen's plan into action. She wasn't sure that Helen had nothing left to contribute to the world, except to be Gena's and Allie's foster mother, though she knew that those two children were uppermost in Helen's heart. Having the kids taken away had been a terrible blow, and Helen had barely functioned for a week since the girls had been taken away. But Martha's request at least offered Michelle some time to compose herself mentally.

Surprisingly, Helen agreed to attend the conference. Martha, Becky, Lorna and Helen were all going, and Helen, once she began to get her materials ready for the presentation she was to make at one of the big sessions, temporarily forgot the plan she had made with Michelle, or perhaps she had decided not to think about it until the semester was over.

Claire

The very next appointment Helen had with Claire Watson, Claire revealed something really unexpected. Apparently there were many lesbian women who found it difficult to remain faithful to their lady lovers, which often destroyed the homes they had made for their children. "It is important for children to have the same adult look after them over time," Claire said. Professional women, especially, found it difficult to maintain cordial relations with the former partner; they preferred a clean break, which of course, was hard on the kids.

But there had been a great deal of success with a surprising idea: professional women could find housekeepers using an online matching service, with the understanding that the housekeepers were open to a possible romantic, and even physical relationship with the employer. The relationship was primarily a professional one, where the housekeeper was most definitely an employee. But both women would go into the arrangement with an open mind. The brokering of the deal was conducted as if it was an online dating service, but the relationship was for keeps, or _mostly_ for keeps.

Helen could barely keep from laughing when she heard this idea. But something told her that to dismiss it outright might tip off Claire to the possibility that Helen was unwilling to entertain any plans that went beyond the next couple of months.

"Sounds like a crazy idea," said Helen; she had difficulty hiding from Claire how incredulous she was.

Then Claire stunned Helen by showing her the catalog.

There was screen after screen of women, ranging in age from their late twenties to their early forties. Most of them looked quite attractive, and some of them looked beautiful. Helen, who regularly browsed the Internet for images of young women, was suddenly struck by how much she enjoyed looking at more mature women. She wondered what would drive a woman to offer her services in this peculiar way.

"Go ahead, click on one," Claire urged. She asked Helen for what sort of woman she might choose in a companion or lover, and Helen was confused. She had never thought to set out her preferences that way.

"Oh... I'm not picky, really... Claire, I just can't take this seriously!" Once again, Claire was reminded of the sweetness of her client's voice; how much magic Helen could put into that simple exclamation! She hurried on.

"It doesn't have to be appearance. You can pick an ethnicity, or an age group, or a religion, or a political preference; anything!"

Helen laughed outright. "So, what, you want me to say that I want a musician? Is that how it goes?"

Claire took the keyboard and typed 'Music', and there were about twenty women who were interested in music, or who were musical; and some of whom could perform on various instruments.

Claire homed in on one woman, who looked a lot less spectacularly beautiful than the rest, a redhead, who was in her mid-thirties. "This woman says she would prefer to work for a musician, specifically."

Helen clicked on the photo, and was shocked to see that the woman had provided a nude photo of herself, though posed very modestly. "Oh, gosh," said Helen, blushing.

"Most of them provide a nude photo. Helen, these women are _serious._ This is not a joke."

It was a thoughtful Helen that came home with a short list of the ladies on the website. She had backed out of the page of the redheaded woman, and looked through the mug shots of some of the others, and the twisted romance of the whole thing had struck her. _Maybe a more scientific approach to finding a partner would make better sense,_ she thought. Michelle and she had absolutely nothing in common except that they... liked each other. She just _knew_ that within a month or two, Michelle and she would bore each other utterly. Michelle was boring, but she was a gorgeous model, with soulful eyes, and could make a piece of rag look spectacular. But some of the women on the website could give Michelle a run for her money in the soulful eyes department. Helen wondered whether these women had jobs. Or did they just stay home, waiting to snag an employer? She had asked Claire what the chances were that one of them would run off with the silver, and Claire said that the agency had detailed information about each one of them, and references from responsible citizens.

# The Meetings

A few days later, Helen awoke in a hotel room in Providence, R.I, with Martha, Nadia Van Der Wert (Helen's professor friend from her undergraduate college, who was her chief collaborator in a project to photograph all existing Bach materials available to the public), Becky and Lorna. Lorna constantly fussed over Helen, and was very demonstratively affectionate, and Helen was embarrassed by it, particularly since Nadia, Becky and Martha were present. Somehow, she got into reasonable clothing, gathered her computer and her data materials, and they headed out for a quick breakfast. She was scheduled to be the first speaker on Saturday morning, and she had to take time off from obsessing about Gena and Allie, and Lorna, and Michelle, to concentrate on what she had to report.

She was urged to become registered as a member of the ABS, which she inexplicably had not done yet. Helen agreed, with slight embarrassment, and was given speaker's credentials to pin onto her dress, and then she was talking to a media technician, explaining what she needed.

"I just need to link to your projector and the sound system," Helen said; "I have a variety of materials on here which probably won't work on your podium computer."

"No problem," said the young fellow, giving her a smile. _He's_ certainly a fan, thought Helen, amused by how earnestly worshipful the boy was. Helen was not accustomed to taking men and boys seriously; of course, she noticed women right away.

The President of the ABS was speaking to her, and telling her that he looked forward to what she had to say. Evidently word had gotten out that Helen was doing important stuff, and that made Helen nervous.

She was introduced to the audience, and after half a minute of nervous mumbling, Helen hit her stride. But, just as she had expected, as soon as the pictorial information hit the screen, all was made clear. Successive layers of graphic processing progressively simplified the photographic image, until it could be automatically converted into an encoding, which was essentially a variant of what was becoming known as MIDI— _Musical Instrument Digital Interchange,_ but was more a precursor of what eventually became MusicXML. What appeared on the screen was traditional musical notation, which was merely a visual interpretation of the encoded music. "This is very much like how a _PowerPoint_ graphic appears on the screen, though it is just a collection of formulas, really, on disk. Or even an Adobe Acrobat document." There were nods. Some of the younger folks were quite hip to these ideas, while the older folks were all at sea, but were happy about the invention, anyway.

Helen found her throat getting dry, and looked about for water. The young fellow who had been helping her ran up with water, as if he could read her mind. Helen thanked him with a smile, and continued.

The talk ended with lots of cheers, and there was a long line of interested students and faculty waiting to talk to Helen afterwards. The boy, whose name she learned later was Jeffrey Gibson, helped with managing the line of people who wanted to talk to Helen. By giving them her e-mail address, and promising them an article explaining most of what she had presented that morning, she was finally able to get away.

Helen should have stayed and listened to the other talks with Martha and Nadia, but Helen begged to be excused by her colleagues, and headed back to the room with Lorna.

As can be expected, Lorna wanted to get intimate with Helen, but she put her foot down, and began to weep. Lorna was aghast.

"Okay! I'm sorry, okay? Helen, stop crying!"

But Helen could not tell her why she was crying. She mumbled that she had suddenly missed the girls, and Lorna could believe that, because Lorna missed them, too. By the time Martha, Nadia and Becky returned from the meeting room, Helen's eyes were very red.

"Helen, they want you to join the music program in the evening! I had better tell them that you're... indisposed, I guess..."

"No," said Helen, "I'll play for them." Being left alone with Lorna seemed too much for Helen just then. Being in a crowd of musicians who wanted nothing from her seemed a lot easier to bear than to have to fend off an oversexed teenager, who was another woman's girlfriend, to begin with.

Jeffrey Gibson, the young fellow who had been the media technician that morning was, predictably, at the evening's musical celebration as well, where Helen participated in performing one of the Brandenburg Concertos, and Helen got talking with him afterwards. He was, despite his youthful appearance, a senior music major at Brown University, and in a careless moment Helen said she would be glad to show him around Philadelphia if he visited over the Easter break.

# Poison

It was a lot easier to obtain the sleeping pills than it was to obtain the formula to put Lucy to sleep painlessly. Sometimes Helen was frightened at just how quickly she was committed to this suicide pact with Michelle, and at other times, she marveled that Michelle seemed so calm about ending it all with Helen and Lucy, especially since she doted on that dog. She occasionally caught Michelle hugging the dog, and burying her face in Lucy's furry shoulder, and when Michelle saw Helen, she would quickly release her, and stroke her, and look cheerfully up at Helen. Helen was often on the brink of calling the whole thing off, but she would look at the empty rooms that had once been where Gena and Alison slept, and recalled packing their belongings to be taken to their new foster home, and she hardened her heart. She was sometimes so filled with fury that she wanted to do something violent. But her anger usually turned back on itself, and she returned to the idea of punishing herself with the ultimate punishment.

Unexpectedly, Jeffrey Gibson, the senior from Brown, turned up on Good Friday. Helen had completely forgotten her promise to the young fellow, but he had come to visit Helen in Philadelphia instead of going home to his parents. Helen drove out to the bus station to pick him up, and brought him home.

Michelle greeted him shyly, and for a while Helen had hopes that maybe Michelle and Jeffrey might hit it off. The three of them went round the University, and then they showed him their favorite parts of the city of Philadelphia, the Art Museum, and Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and so forth.

Jeffrey offered to check into a hotel, but Helen and Michelle said no, he was welcome to stay in their home. Late that night, Jeffrey knocked on the door of the room Michelle and Helen shared. The girls had been fooling around, and they kept very quiet, hoping he would simply leave them alone. But he knocked again, and Helen made an impatient noise, and pulled on a robe and went out to talk to him.

"I can't sleep!" said Jeffrey.

Helen was impatient with him. After some questioning, Helen found out what the problem was. He was a virgin, and he was begging Helen to sleep with him.

Helen explained that she was into women; Michelle was her girl. "I just don't... do it with guys," she said, as gently as she could.

"Please!" he begged.

Helen cursed, but hauled him with her to the room he had been given: Gena's room. She undressed him, got him hard with oral sex, and then mounted him, and started to ride him. It was the first sex she had with a man that she could remember, since she had lost her memory, and she found that it was very pleasurable. With great care, she managed to delay his climax so long that it must have been actually painful for him. Finally she triggered his release and was filled with his ejaculate, and it felt wonderful.

She felt terrible at having been so insensitive with him. She could see that she had overwhelmed him with her physical beauty, and with the unconscious skill with which she had made love to him. He would forever be her slave, she supposed. She tenderly bent to kiss him. She imagined that he was a girl —it wasn't hard; he was the least masculine boy she could remember having met— and made love to him as if she loved him. It may have been cruel, but after weeks of getting ready for death, nothing seemed to matter very much anymore, and she could not help responding to his adoring looks and touches and words.

"You okay?" she asked him softly, as she prepared to withdraw from him.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes shining.

"Well, Michelle is waiting for me," Helen said, apropos of nothing.

"I'm such a pig," he said, without conviction, "I shouldn't have interrupted... what you were doing!"

"Just forget it," Helen said kindly. "You were in a bad way, I could tell."

"I'll never forget this," he said, his face dead serious.

Helen wiped both of them off, and returned to Michelle. They talked about the boy briefly, giggling, and then got started on some serious lovemaking.

The semester seemed to take forever to wind to a close, and Helen avoided visiting Claire Watson again, and Claire called Becky and Martha, and said it was looking bad. She did not tell them that she had informed Helen about an Internet service that matched up lesbian professionals with lesbian housekeepers; that was something that was not publicized very much, because it would definitely have been considered illegal in some quarters.

Helen graded her finals, and finished taking her own final exams, and one terrible day, Michelle, Helen and Lucy looked at each other. Michelle was completely colorless with fear and grim determination. Helen felt utterly empty, and the dog Lucy simply whined in her misery, not understanding why the two women looked so awful, and smelled so afraid.

Helen and Michelle stared at the little bulletin board on which they had made a list of everything they had to take care of before they headed out to the wilderness place where they planned to make an end of it. It was by the railway tracks, within walking distance of the house on Semple Street where Helen lived. Michelle had put on sunglasses, but Helen was determined to wear as little as possible. She had some vague idea of polluting only the absolute minimum with her death: just a sleeveless jumper dress and no underwear, and rubber slippers, that was all. All the materials were in a paper bag, and she carried a bottle of water.

"You don't have to," she said, at the last minute, looking at Michelle. At that moment, it seemed like murder, to drag Michelle along with her. Helen did not believe in life after death, and as her love for Michelle began to overwhelm her, it seemed senseless to Helen to take the beautiful, innocent woman and her wonderful dog with her into oblivion.

"I have to," said Michelle, and her voice sounded dead already. They opened the door and stepped out, with Lucy on a leash, and then Helen was stunned to see Gena just across the street, with Alison in a stroller, waiting for the light to change.

"Mama! Mama!" she was yelling, and Helen was crying, "Be careful! Stay back!!" A bus was just rounding the corner. Gena saw it, and got back on the sidewalk, but then she ran across the street with the stroller, and Lucy was barking, and Helen had her arms around the girls, and Gena was clinging to her neck, and they were laughing and crying.

# Gena!

"What're you doing here? How did you get away?"

"Oh, Mama, I'm so happy! Oh Mama!" and Gena began to sob, and Helen could only watch the two girls crying their hearts out with all the pent-up misery of the last several weeks. It was a long time before the story came out, and though Michelle wanted to call everyone they knew and tell them the good news, Helen was cautious. First she wanted to hear what had happened.

"Allie was crying the whole time!" emphasized Gena, not entirely sure whether Helen would approve of what she had done. "She cried and cried, and this morning, I just put Allie in the stroller, and walked out!"

"Just like that?"

"Yeah! I walked onto the big road, and then I remembered where we went for the seeds?" Helen nodded quickly; but it wasn't important; Gena had somehow recognized a familiar intersection, and begun walking. She had taken the back roads, because Allie was afraid of the crowds and the traffic, and they had simply walked home along streets Gena had noticed in their various expeditions into town.

"We can probably make a case for negligence," muttered Helen.

"No. Helen, just put them in the car, and disappear. Just go!"

"Oh no. I'll get in really big trouble," said Helen, her eyes wide. "That might be —I don't know: kidnapping, or something."

"Mama, let's do it. Mama, I don't ever want to go there again. Let's run away to Ohio, or anywhere!"

"Mama?" Little Alison was earnestly beseeching her mother not to make her go back, in her limited vocabulary.

Helen thought fast, and decided. In Philadelphia, unbelievably, the legal deck seemed stacked against Helen. Michelle said she would stay with Lucy, and get in touch with Helen through Becky. Helen had to find ways of keeping in touch with Becky that could not be intercepted, and traced back to Helen, wherever she was hiding.

# On the Run

Minutes later, Helen, Gena and Allie were at a used car lot some distance from home, paying cash for an ancient Dodge Dart. The salesman swore that the car would take them anywhere they wanted to go. They had hurriedly packed some essentials —the girls, of course, had left all their clothes behind; Gena had brought along the only possession she had left with Helen: her precious journal. Helen had packed mostly underwear, a few of her favorite denim skirts, and some jeans, which she thought were appropriate, some shirts, and a few sneakers and sandals, because the weather was getting warm. There were no clothes for the children; they would have to get some. She had left her computer behind; it was heavily encrypted, anyway; but she had brought a Ziploc bag with most of her important papers.

They headed west. There was nothing to the east except New Jersey, so not thinking very hard, Helen headed west down the turnpike.

As Helen drove, she realized that it was only a matter of time before there would be a manhunt for them. And as they had walked to the strip, with Allie on Helen's hip, she had realized that she simply could not manage to look after the kids by herself. Then she suddenly realized that she had brought along the paper in which she had written the addresses of those women Claire Watson had given her. She was tired, and she thought of the woman who wanted to obtain employment with a musician. Her name was Penny O'Brien, and she had a little girl, about nine or ten. She lived in rural Pennsylvania, and Helen thought that they could hole out with her for the night, while Helen figured out some details. Somehow Penny O'Brien looked like someone who would understand her predicament, and help her sort out her options.

She got off at the next exit, and began to look for the address in the file. It took a long time, because it was on a road hard to find, and the street number of the address was past what seemed like the last house on the street.

"900... the last house is 686!"

"The road continues, Mama, let's keep going!"

# Penny

When they finally found the place, Helen was shocked. It was a little cabin, and the front half had been burned down. They had rigged a tarpaulin to keep the back of the house watertight.

Hearing the car, a little girl peeked out from behind the tarp, then disappeared, and a woman came out. She looked startled and uncertain.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Penny O'Brien?"

The bright blue eyes took in Helen and the two little girls, and she looked puzzled.

"Yes, that's me... What..."

Helen let out a long sigh, and leaned on the fender of the car. This was the part she hadn't figured out yet.

"I'm... I'm..." and words failed her, and Helen could only look beseechingly at Penny.

Penny looked weary and dull, but not so weary and dull as to be uninterested in the story of a small family that was obviously under great stress.

"Well, come in; you look all out, you do! How old is the little one?"

"She's a year and a bit," said Gena. Penny's little girl had come out to join them, and was giving Gena a tentative smile. "I'm Gena," said she, "and that's Allie. Alison!"

"I'm Erin!" said the little platinum blonde, in a high squeaky voice. She had a lovely smile, and dimples, despite being painfully thin.

They were seated at the tiny dining table, and suddenly Penny joined the dots, Helen could tell by the fact that she stopped asking questions. The story had been in the papers that the famous Helen Nordstrom had had her foster children taken away from her. There had been a few questions about that even in Providence, but Martha had said, firmly, that they were not at liberty to discuss the situation, without prejudicing Helen's chances of reversing the court's decision.

Penny asked how they had stumbled on where she lived, and Helen said she'd explain later; she did not want to have to spell out the details with Gena listening in.

They had very little food in the house, but Penny and Erin were generous to a fault. They shared the food they had, and Helen could see that they were actually using up _all_ their supplies.

After minimal cleaning up, and after the car had been driven far enough into the woods to escape a casual inspection of the place, Gena and Erin were put to sleep in Erin's room, in a sleeping-bag, and Penny offered to share her bed with Helen.

Confession

Once the lights were out, Helen turned to Penny, and made a clean breast of it. She revealed that she had obtained her name and address from the Catalog on the Internet. "I'm not giving you a chance to... decide, you know, calmly, and with all the facts. I'm on the run; and if you get asked questions, you could say that..."

"Take us with you!"

"What?" Helen was amazed. She had _hoped_ that Penny and the little girl might be a part of a survival plan for them, but this was better than she had expected. "Do you know what you're getting into?" Helen asked.

"Yes! Miss Helen—I don't know what else to call you!—I can see you with the kids, and I can see how they love you! Oh, you have no idea what a piece of luck this is! Miss Helen, God himself has brought you to us!"

Helen suppressed a snort. Being forced to go into hiding with two little girls was not what she would have called great fortune. "The Police will be looking for us everywhere, Penny."

"But they will be looking for a woman with _two_ little girls, and not _two_ women with _three_ little girls!"

But the biggest factor was that Penny was absolutely convinced that little Erin, her daughter, was musically talented, so much so that she was willing to give up _everything_ to get Erin the musical training she deserved. And she saw Helen as the chance of a lifetime.

"Penny, I don't want to take you with us under false pretenses. I would be happy to teach Erin all the music she needs to learn, but she may not be as gifted as you believe she is. I will teach her. I'm just saying..."

"Miss Helen, that's all I ask!"

Helen sighed, and decided to postpone further discussion for the morning. It seemed that Penny had a part-time job as a cook for a diner some distance away which served a couple of businesses. Tomorrow was payday, said Penny, and she wanted to make sure she got her paycheck. She just wanted to stick around until her shift was done at 5:00 p.m., and then they could make their escape. She would tell them she wanted to quit, because she was being harassed by her ex-husband.

But late in the night, they heard cars slowly drive past. They were very quiet, but there were two of the cars, which woke Penny up, and Helen had not been able to sleep, and she got up, too. It was raining, and Helen thanked her lucky stars that it had been dry for so long, so the Dodge hadn't left any tracks. They could see three sets of tail lights going down the road, and Helen wondered —if it was indeed the police— how they had traced her this far! They had not stopped anywhere!

"Mama! Did you hear that?"

"Shh. What did you hear?"

"Cars!"

Penny got Erin packed without turning on the lights. The two women and the three kids left out the back of the cabin, and they began to silently hike through the woods. "Just a little further, and this becomes a trail," explained Penny, in a whisper. "I'm taking you to this shed out behind the diner, where you can hole out," she said.

Helen's heart was thudding painfully, and she could only imagine how frightened Gena must be, though Allie was too young to understand. Erin, when Helen could see her face, looked scared to death, though of course the O'Briens were not being sought by the law.

It was almost three in the morning when they got to the shed, which was just about six foot square. Penny opened the combination lock, and they slunk inside, and Penny got Alison and Erin comfortable on some sacks. "I'm OK," said Helen softly. "Penny..."

"Oh, it's all right, Miss Helen! This is fun!"

# In the Shed

The next day was nerve-wracking. Helen and the girls took turn to go relieve themselves in the woods, and Penny went in to work, looking somewhat disheveled. As the day wore on, Helen's anxiety increased, and from inside their shed, they could actually see the number of cars heading down the long street on which Penny had lived increasing, and she was certain that the Dodge had been discovered. Luckily, Helen had driven it into the woods some distance from Penny's cabin, so that there was no obvious connection between the car and the house.

At 4:00 p.m., Penny arrived with her paycheck, and with two platefuls of food: two enormous foot-long sandwiches, a packet of chips, and a bottle of water. Allie had been fed from the special supplies Helen had brought for the baby, which were slowly running out.

They had to wait until the men left work, and then headed towards a little town in the opposite direction to where they had left the Dodge.

# Cadillac

Helen was quietly trying to explain to Gena exactly why they were in hiding. "They're going to say I kidnapped you; that's why..."

"Yes, Mama, I figured that out. I'll take the bag, you take Allie, and put this over your shoulder, like this..."

Gena was amazing. Some of their stuff was in a garbage bag, and the rest in a duffel bag with a strap. Helen had left the baby carry-pack behind, so she had to carry Alison in her arms.

It was around six in the evening, but it was still light. Past the town, the street turned into a dirt road, and then the street became less rough, and they were walking by some farms; this was definitely farm country. And to their amazement, there was an old Cadillac, with a sign saying "$1000, Or Best Offer!" The man had just put the sign up, when they walked up, and he saw the delighted expression on their faces, and grinned.

"Oh, look here, Dolly!" His wife came out of the house, and gave them an amused smile.

"Does it run?"

"Does it? You bet!"

"We just had to abandon the car we had bought only last morning!"

The man looked serious at once. "How much did you pay for it? What make was it, first of all?"

"A Dodge," Helen said. "It was $900!"

The man shook his head. "You give me $900 for this one, and it'll take you anywhere you want to go. Where you headed, anyway?"

Helen hesitated. "I... we're... we're trying..."

"Oh." He looked serious, and then made a gesture, as if to say, _that's none of my business, I know._ "This is good for, well, at least a couple of thousand miles. Gas, now, you know you'll have to feed her often. Sixteen miles on the highway, that's the best she'll do."

Penny had helped Helen to put up her hair, which was the quickest and easiest way to disguise her temporarily. Helen was unrecognizable, unless you happened to have seen her before in the flesh.

Helen gave him the money in cash, and he handed over the keys. So he still owned the car, in theory, which meant that Helen couldn't be traced through the Bureau of Motor Vehicles.

They piled into the old Cadillac, which was still amazingly comfortable, and got back on the highway. Helen was tiring easily, mostly because of the stress and anxiety. Penny, however, was full of energy; she and Erin were making a break from the life of drudgery they had been living for a while.

# Going West

Miles upon miles went by under the wheels of the Cadillac, and Penny taught Helen how to drive to save the most gasoline. They would just keep the speed at 55 mph, and not give it any more gas. "And avoid braking at all," said Penny.

Presently they paid the toll, and found themselves in northern Ohio. The last thing Helen wanted was to implicate her Ohio friends in her desperate bid to keep the two girls, so they kept driving, and angled south as the chance arose. There was a garage sale in a little town they had put into to get lunch one day, and they found a used tent big enough for all five of them. The kids were delighted!

For the moment, they slept in the car. Helen and Penny took turns to sleep in the driver's seat, while the other slept on the passenger seat, and the kids slept in the back, which was spacious. It wasn't until four days later, when they were in Kansas that they were able to find a place in which to camp. Penny fronted the dealings with the campsite managers, and presently they were settled nicely at a tent site. (Helen never thought to go home to the Kansas farm in which she had grown up.)

# Steve Johnson

"The easiest thing for me to do," said Helen one day, "would be to turn into a guy." Gena gasped, and Erin was struck dumb with amazement.

"Erin, sweetheart, do you remember that television show we watched, about Orpheus?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember Eurydice, his wife, who died, and was in the underworld?" Erin nodded vigorously. Evidently the little girl really was very much interested in musical things, and Helen could almost see the recognition in her eyes.

"Is... is Miss Helen... was she the lady?"

"Yes, sweetheart! She's Helen Nordstrom, the violinist, and the singer!" Erin's stunned disbelief was lovely to see. Gena nodded, eyes shining.

"I want to learn music, Miss Helen!" said Erin, hardly daring to believe.

"Honey, some people are trying to take Gena and Alison from Miss Helen, which is why we mustn't call her Miss Helen in public." She turned to Helen. "Think of a name, Miss Helen. Something you can remember!"

Helen shrugged, and looked at the kids. Somehow, Gena having shown the greatest initiative of all of them, she seemed the obvious one to choose a name.

"How about _Steve?_ Steve..."

"Steve Johnson?"

"Yeah!" squeaked Erin, getting into the spirit of the thing.

"We filled out the camp form with _Jessica_ something for you," said Penny. "I think it was Jessica Davis, or something."

"Well, the minute we leave this place, I'm going to be Stephen Johnson."

"Shall I cut your hair right now?"

"We need a shears. Shears could be useful on this trip."

"Cut my hair, too!"

"Mine, too!" said Erin, and they had to explain that Penny and Erin were not in hiding, and could be themselves.

The next day, they did buy shears, and Helen's and Gena's hair was cut short, and Gena agreed to be Jennifer Johnson, and Allie would be _Alice_. Penny went into a Goodwill store, and bought a pair of men's jeans and a few flannel shirts to fit Helen, and Helen was transformed into a young man.

"I'm going to have to talk like a guy," Helen said, feeling miserable. She knew she had the intelligence to pull the charade off, but it did take a lot of energy and concentration.

"Just use bad grammar," said Penny, looking sour. "Every guy I knew, even the ones who'd been to college, spoke like louts," said she.

"How about this? Do I sound about right?"

"I don't think you need to try that hard," said Penny. "Just sound a little dull, that's all!"

By the time they had got to Colorado, Helen had gotten comfortable with the masquerade. It had more to do with the walk, the swagger, the expression, and less to do with the voice. It was now early summer, and as they left the higher elevations and got into California, which was where they headed without actually planning it, it was getting very warm. Helen had gotten a pair of boots, which made it easier for her to walk like a man.

Helen explained that she did not want to go anywhere near the Sacramento area, because that was where she had lived for a while, and she was well known there. So they headed south, and wound up in Southern California, in a medium-sized town, at a campground. Helen was wondering whether it wasn't asking for trouble to try to camp all the time, but Penny simply shrugged. They didn't have much choice, really, unless they lucked out and happened on an abandoned house somewhere.

The three girls had gotten comfortable with camping life, and Erin was brilliant at keeping an ear out for anything that might blow their cover.

# Worries about Income

They were getting close to the end of their cash reserves. That night, after the girls had fallen asleep, Helen turned to Penny, with whom she was sharing a sleeping bag.

"I'm going to look for work tomorrow," said Helen.

"Miss H,..." began Penny.

"Steve. Just call me Steve," said Helen softly.

Penny stared at Helen. Over the last week or so, she had been getting strongly attracted to Miss Helen. Helen was a striking figure at the worst of times, but their circumstances, the romance of being on the run, and the fact that Penny admired the musician in Helen so much, all conspired to make Penny have feelings for Helen that were hard to control, especially when they were in bed together. Penny had come to hate the thought of ever having to be with a man ever again, and the last thing she wanted was to call Helen 'Steve.'

"You knew about the... Website, right?" asked Penny.

"Oh... the housekeeper thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. Yes I did." Helen sighed softly. Penny reached out a gentle hand, and caressed Helen's face.

"If you find me... if you think I'm pretty, you... you could have me."

Helen caught Penny's hand, and began to play with it.

"I'd like to cuddle," said Helen.

Penny awoke, to find herself tangled deliciously in Helen's limbs. Helen had lost a lot of weight, and she had already looked very lean when she had turned up at the cabin in which Penny and Erin had been living. Helen had bought herself guy's underwear somewhere, and she had hardly any breasts to speak of. She woke Helen up, and was rewarded with a slow smile. God, how handsome she was! Penny loved the little game of make-believe Helen and she were playing. Helen pretended to be Penny's boyfriend, by simply looking at her a certain way, the way she stood near Penny, the protective arm she put around Erin; Penny was so happy, she felt she might burst any minute. Now Helen was dressed in her jeans and a polo-necked shirt. She drank the coffee Penny had brewed on the camp stove. Picking up the bagel Penny had bought for Helen the previous day, Helen was off, on foot.

While Helen was away, Penny had been asked to call a certain number in Los Angeles, and find out as much as she could about what was going on in Philadelphia.

# Odd Jobs

Helen walked steadily, until she arrived in a fairly affluent neighborhood, and knocked on the first door she came to.

The door was answered by a lovely young Latina.

"Hi, my name's Steve. I'm looking for work; is there any job available? Maybe I can talk to your Mom, or your Dad?"

"Wait here! I'll go see," said the girl, bestowing a brilliant smile on Helen. Presently a middle-aged man with a pleasant face came to the door.

"Hi. What sort of work can you do?"

Helen shrugged. "Anything you like," she said. "Painting, woodwork, repairs... I don't care!"

"Hmm. Can you paint fences?"

"Sure."

It was a good break. Painting was easy, and Helen painted all morning, trying to keep the degree to which the young woman disturbed her to a minimum. The fence was all painted by early afternoon, and the owner of the house asked Helen to come by the next morning, because he wanted the pool cleaned out. The daughter, whose name was Sonia, had really taken a liking to the curly-haired blond odd-job man.

"I don't know about cleaning a pool," said Helen, when she rejoined Penny.

"I'll go get a pair of swimming trunks for you," Penny said, with a grin.

Once the swimming trunks —a nice new pair of a good make— had been obtained, and Helen had tried them on, with the little family gathered under the large tent, Helen looked amazingly convincing. She was a long-legged woman, with well-developed thighs and buttocks, and large feet and hands, though her face was relatively small and sweet. But the rigors of the last couple of weeks had taken away some of the softness from her face, and a lot of the layer of fat that had given Helen that characteristic sweetness.

"Your butt still looks like a girl," was Gena's opinion, which produced peals of laughter from Erin, and a broad grin from little Allie.

"No, you don't, at all," said Penny, looking censoriously at the older girls. Helen's body fur, which showed no sign of slowing down at all, had grown back, a layer of blonde fuzz all over her legs. "You look cute!"

Helen had not worn a bra for more than a month, so the tell-tale imprints of bra elastic were quite absent, and Helen looked very convincingly male.

"Gena, take the girls out to the playground," instructed Helen softly, and Penny nodded to them. Helen wanted to talk to Penny about a little something to look like the usual masculine equipment inside the swimming trunks. Penny improvised a convincing roll of something, and gave it to Helen to insert, and miraculously, Helen was a young man. She threw her shoulders back, and swaggered up and down the middle of the tent, all of six feet, and Penny gave her approval.

"Just wear a T-Shirt," she said. "Lots of guys do that."

# Pool Cleaning

Helen reported for work at the same house, and knocked on the door. The young lady of the house answered the door again, and gave Helen a soft smile that would have melted the heart of anyone. "I was so sure you wouldn't be back!" she said, urging Helen inside. She called out for her father, "Dad! Steve is back!"

The gentleman, whose name was Mr. Morales, as Helen found out later, came out, all smiles, and conducted Helen out to the pool, talking about pool care, most of which came back to Helen fairly quickly. "You came ready to work in the water?"

"Well, yeah," said Helen, in the low, flat voice she had adopted. Helen's speaking voice was fairly high pitched, but not as high pitched as some women. It just made Helen sound like a very young boy.

A lot of the work was done from outside the pool, wearing a pair of shorts. Sonia, the young lady, hung about the pool, talking to Helen, and once she found out that Helen knew little of the teen culture that comprised the main portion of the conversational inspiration of Sonia and her friends, she had to turn to other topics, such as sports and movies, and books. Here, Helen was on firmer ground, and Helen and Gena had gone to several movies that were unlikely to have drawn a typical male audience. But Helen was aware of that, and adjusted her opinions carefully. Luckily, Sonia was pleased at Helen's responses, and they began to talk seriously.

It was now time to actually get in the pool, and Helen opted to get in the water in her jeans cutoffs.

"Do you have a girl friend?" asked Sonia, only a slight redness of her complexion revealing that this was a big question.

"Yup," Helen said, looking carefully away. On one hand, she was amused at how quickly Sonia had arrived at this question. But she was also getting to like the young woman; she had an imagination and critical faculties far beyond what Helen had expected upon first meeting her. Helen was naturally flattered at the attention, but she was also painfully aware of how little use she was as an object for the affection of a beautiful young woman. "Yup," she continued, "I got a girl, Sonia."

"I just wanted to know," said Sonia quickly. She thought for a while, and then got up from the deck chair on which she had gotten comfortable. "I'll be right back," she said.

Presently, she appeared in a swimsuit. Helen was inside the pool, cleaning the lenses, and looked up when she saw movement. Sonia was quite dazzling in a sexy two-piece. Her best feature was a flat, tight stomach, and small, perky breasts. Her legs were a trifle on the heavy side, but her medium brown hair and hazel eyes were just perfect for the little miss. She jumped into the pool, and swam over, saying she wanted to help.

For close to half an hour, Helen shared the pool with the young woman, who looked to be around seventeen or eighteen. She said she was about to go to College at UCLA, which was an excellent school, as far as Helen knew, especially for the Arts. She was a willing worker, and together they made a good team.

"Sonia!"

Dad had come around to check on the work, and had seen the girl in the pool with Steve.

"Yeah? What, Dad?" Luckily, Sonia had kept her distance, or it would have been very embarrassing.

Dad let fly a rapid-fire bit of Spanish which Helen could not follow. She knew enough of the language to be able to understand it if spoken to slowly and carefully. After having made sure Sonia had heard and understood, Dad nodded at Helen, and walked back inside the house.

Sonia gave a soft sound of annoyance, but climbed out of the pool, and put on a cover-up. Looking very glum, she went back to her chaise, and opened her book. Helen did not look at her for a while, and then sneaked a look at her, and she smiled sweetly back.

"I hope I didn't get you in trouble," Helen said, with a smile.

"Oh, no; it's okay." She frowned prettily, as she turned the pages of what appeared to be a Manga book, and it appeared she was actually reading it in Japanese. It was hard to tell from inside the pool.

After Helen had set the machinery going after finishing up her work, and Sonia had gone inside, Helen waited just long enough to verify that the water system was working fine, and walked round to the front of the house, to ring the bell.

Just then a lovely Latina woman drove up in a sleek new Mercedes, and walked briskly up to Helen, and pulled off her shades.

"You must be Steve!" she said, in perfect, accent-free English. "My daughter Sonia was telling me about you last night!"

Helen smiled politely and confirmed that she was, indeed, Steve, and that she thought she was done with the pool cleaning. The woman led the way to the pool, and inspected it very carefully, and nodded. "I'll call my husband out. Would you like a towel?"

"I can just use my shirt," said Helen, feeling foolish.

"Don't be silly. Wait right here."

Presently, Mr. Morales came out, and greeted Helen with a slight frown, and talked with Helen about the job.

"Okay, Steve. I think you deserve a bonus, especially for doing the work with the girl being a nuisance!"

"Oh, no, she was fine; we was just talking," Helen said, eyeing the roll of bills Mr. Morales had pulled out of his pocket with barely concealed avarice.

He handed the promised amount over, with a handsome gratuity, and shook his head. "I don't think we have anything else we need to get done, Steve. Hope you have better luck on the next street! Thanks!"

Helen thanked him in return, and headed to the pile of clothes she had left on a chair, when the lady of the house came out through the French windows, and handed Helen a nice big towel.

"Did you get your money?"

"Yes, thanks ma'am," said Helen, very politely. She put the money carefully in her jeans pocket, and proceeded to dry herself off.

"Go ahead, I won't look!" she said, with a mischievous smile, and then laughed, and indicated a changing room. Helen closed the door, and stripped completely down, changed, ran a comb through her damp hair, and checked out her face in the mirror. She was acquiring a nice tan, and her face, particularly, was getting quite sunburned. If you knew she was a woman, you could tell that she had breasts, but if you were expecting a man, it was a man you would have seen.

Helen went back outside, and saw that the lady had waited for her. As Helen handed back the towel, she asked in a low voice, "What did he say?"

"Oh, he... thanked me, and gave me the money, that was all."

"Did he say anything about my daughter?"

"Oh... only that, like, she was talking to me."

"Will you come back tomorrow? I have a couple of things I'd like you to do for me!"

Helen said she had some other jobs lined up, and she'd check back in if they didn't work out.

# Marika

When Penny had called Marika and Lisa's work number, Lisa had picked up.

"Hello?"

"Oh, I was hoping to talk to either Marika, or, er, Lisa!"

"This is Lisa! What can I do for you?"

"Um, I'm inquiring about doing a field recording. It's a softball game, and I was hoping you could make a video for me!"

Lisa knew at once that something was fishy. Making a sound recording of a softball game was unusual in the extreme, and that was the only sort of recording Marika and Lisa did. Those two had known, as soon as the news appeared in the newspapers that Helen had absconded with the two little girls, that Helen would be a wanted criminal. There was always the possibility that Marika's phone would be tapped, if it became known that Marika and Helen were connected in any way. As of yet, however, it was not as important a case as to warrant every conceivable friend and acquaintance of Helen having their phone lines tapped.

"Can you meet me at the corner of..." Lisa verified with a few careful questions that the call was local. Meeting them in person was risky, but sending information over the phone was riskier.

When Penny showed up with the three kids in the Cadillac a few days later, Marika and Lisa recognized Gena and Alison immediately, and going somewhere they could not be overheard, they found out everything Helen had been doing.

"Disguised as a guy! That's clever," Lisa conceded, while Marika wore a grin that threatened to split her face in half. Erin had taken an immediate liking to the two women, who gave the impression of being overgrown teenagers. "Okay, listen. Here's what's happening."

When they got back, Helen was waiting for them at the campsite.

"They're watching your old home, near Sacramento," Penny told Helen. "They've tapped the lines to your house in Philly, and your office, with someone called... Becky?" Gena nodded vigorously, and Helen did too. Penny gave a list of places that were being watched. Then Penny pulled out a cellphone that Lisa and Marika had obtained for Helen. Helen's phone was set aside to be discarded where it could not be traced, and Penny resumed her story. "Marika says that they have someone they know in the FBI, who's telling them everything that they're doing."

In addition, Marika had given Helen a way of communicating with her that was both devious and simple. In minutes, Helen was talking to Marika directly.

" _Sis!"_ shrieked Marika, as soon as Helen got on the line. She always loved to yell at Helen over the phone, insisting that Helen (who looked a lot like Marika) was her favorite sister. "You're right _here,_ and I can't give you a _hug!!"_

"Oh, calm down, for heaven's sake! Marika, what's going on? I hate being cut off from everybody, and scared of getting caught, and having the girls taken away..."

" _Listen!_ Helen, all across the country people are getting absolutely _mad_ about the situation. Can you get on the Internet? Someone has put up a website, and everything! It's called the Helen Net! This judge of yours can lose his job over this. The word on the street is that the old couple who wanted the kids leaned on the judge inappropriately."

Helen snorted. "They had no clue how to look after Baby Allie. She was crying the whole time, and Gena just walked right out of there, and they never knew."

"It can't have been that simple. Gena must have done some careful planning!"

"I have to ask her. But what else is happening?"

"They've talked to everyone except me and Lisa, and of course none of them knows anything! They questioned Michelle pretty closely, but she didn't know anything either. They tapped your line, but you never called Michelle, so they stopped listening to it. Listen! Lesbians and supporters are mobilizing across the country, and there was even a big rally right here, in LA, where they said you were being victimized by conservative elements. This is huge!"

# What to do next?

That was all very well, but it didn't help Helen support herself and her little group. What was she to do when the summer was over, and Gena and Erin needed to go to school?

The following day, Helen was back in the block up the street from the Morales's, and Helen had just knocked on one door, and not got any answer, when she heard a soft voice calling from across the street. She heard "Steve! Steve," and at first she didn't realize that it was intended for her, but then she turned and looked, and it was Mrs. Morales. Helen hurried across, and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Have you got any jobs yet, today?" she asked. Helen shook her head, no, and Mrs. Morales gestured that Helen should follow her to their home. "Why didn't you come by? I asked you specifically to come by yesterday!"

Helen shrugged, as she followed the woman. "Your husband said he didn't have anything else for me..."

"Oh," said Mrs. Morales, "he's being silly. He gets a little upset when Sonia, you know, pays a little too much attention to guys. You know how it is, with fathers and daughters!"

Helen did not like the sound of this at all, but went along. As they got to the house, Morales was just driving off in his shiny new Avalon, and nodded to Helen and his wife. Helen breathed a sigh of relief; evidently there had been a discussion, and the wife had prevailed. Helen was assigned to do some more maintenance work on the house, this time cleaning out the gutters, for which she was promised a hundred dollars. Helen did it in about half an hour, and then was told to change the oil on the Mercedes, while Sonia kept her company, and helped. Then Helen was sent to a specific home in the neighborhood, where a friend of Mrs. Morales had more work for her.

After all the other work was done, Helen was sent off on an errand to the Post Office, to buy stamps, where she got the shock of her life. 'Wanted for a variety of Federal offences,' read the poster, and it had a photograph of a smiling Helen, taken from her California driver's license, and there were also photos of Gena and Alison, from a news item from earlier that year. Helen bought the stamps, trying not to look too nervous, and delivered them, took her money, and hurried home.

"What's up?" asked Penny. "You look scared to death!"

"There's a Wanted sign in the post office," she said, under her breath, just as Gena and Erin hurried over to greet her from the swimming pool of the little campground.

"Oh, shit," swore Penny. Helen said that there were photos of Gena and Alison, too. Gena was thoroughly scared when she heard about it. Her eyes were huge with fear, as she asked what could happen if they were spotted.

"We had better move somewhere, I don't know, a little... quieter? But where could we go?" asked Penny. Helen was grateful that Penny was so good at taking this sort of news with calmness, but even Penny was stumped. The more they went into hiding, the less normal would be the life the kids could lead. Already, living in a campsite for a week was hardly easy on the kids.

Because of the Wanted posters, Helen was reluctant to go in to work the following morning, but she had promised a friend of the Morales' to work on their roof, and so she went in early, trying to minimize the time she spent on the street. But Helen was fairly confident that she herself could not be recognized from the wanted posters. She had lost weight, and without the long braid she looked very different. She was tall for a girl, but made a man of no more than average height, at five-foot nine, or five-foot ten, when she walked with a slouch, as she did now, simply because of her state of mind. They were running out of money for food, and were depending on the few dollars she brought home each day working odd-jobs.

Her search for casual employment centered around the home of the Morales, and the growing affection towards Helen of the mother and daughter was troublesome. Both of them were attractive women, and their attractiveness went far beyond their appearance, which was considerable. Mrs. Morales, whose name was Isabel, had arresting eyes, and a truly uncommon charm, and young Sonia —her actual name, not a diminutive— was a youngster whose charm promised to exceed that of her mother someday. She kept her distance, physically, but Helen knew that the girl was beginning to fall in love with Helen. She may have known the word 'love', but probably had no idea what it really meant; perhaps Helen was the first adult whom Sonia had met who had awakened that feeling in her.

Once again, Sonia was lying in wait for Helen with a brilliant smile, whose meaning was unmistakable.

"Where are you going today?" she asked, having called Helen over.

"It's Mr. Williams, some bodywork on his car," said Helen with a smile.

"Will you stop by after you're done? I want to show you something!"

Helen's smile died. "Sonia," she said, forgetting to drop her voice as much as she normally would have. "I got a girl... and I got kids, you know."

"You? You've got kids?" The dismay on Sonia's face was both funny, and sad. Helen just nodded. "Why don't you bring them over? I want to see them!" Helen shook her head, and dropped her eyes. "How many?"

Helen showed two fingers, and then said, " _She_ has a kid too, so... I guess three."

Sonia melted. Somehow, the fact that Helen was working to support a family of five struck a sympathetic chord in her soft heart.

"Where do you live?"

Helen was tired; this very conversation had become exhausting, especially in the emotional state Helen was in. "We live at a campground," she said. "We're new here; I lost a job, and we thought... it would be easier in California, I guess." Helen shrugged. If Sonia was interested in connecting the dots, Helen had just betrayed all of them, but just then Helen felt the need to not have to lie all the time. Even as she said the words, and was committed to being at least partially straight with Sonia, she realized that she could not lower her guard ever again to anyone else.

"Okay," said Sonia, "You go ahead. I guess you could really use the money, huh?"

Helen nodded, and giving Sonia a rueful smile, headed over to her job.

# Visitors at the Campsite

Helen was given not just one but several jobs at the Williamses, and was given a sandwich for lunch by Mrs. Williams, a most generous lady, and Helen temporarily forgot about Sonia's injunction to stop by. But Sonia was watching out for Helen, and ran out, all dressed, and gaily announced that she was coming home with Helen, to meet the family.

"No, please, no! I haven't warned them you were coming!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"It's just a little tent, in the campground!"

"Are you ashamed that you're so poor?"

Helen was stunned. She hadn't quite thought of herself as poor, but of course poor described them perfectly. She had made roughly $50 a day, on the average, which was not too bad. But sleeping in a tent every night was taking its toll on them. She hurried, and Sonia kept up with her, and twenty minutes later, they were approaching the campground, and Gena had spotted them, and was running towards them, the long quarter mile to the gates of the compound.

"That's my eldest," said Helen, swallowing hard.

"Oh, she's darling!" said Sonia, her eyes shining. "She looks exactly like you!" It was true. Gena was most definitely beginning to look like Helen. Penny had put her hair in two braids, and Gena could never look anything but happy at the sight of her adopted mother.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, and threw herself into Helen's arms, just as she always did. She was clever, and remembered to call Helen 'Dad'.

"This is Sonia, whose dad gave me my first job!" Helen said, introducing them.

"Hi!" They walked towards the tent, past the other camp lots, which were mostly empty, after the weekend. Suddenly Sonia decided that she did not want to invade their privacy. She slowed to a stop, and told Helen that she had changed her mind. Helen asked if she was sure, and she said she would come by some other time. She realized, she said, that it could be awkward to have to receive someone unexpectedly.

Helen took a deep breath, and agreed that they ought to find a more permanent place to stay. "I don't know where to begin," she said, her arm around Gena.

Sonia felt deeply sorry for the little family, and just then Penny came out of the tent, with little Alison in her arms, and Erin behind her. Erin started to run towards the group at the gate. "Aww, look at the little girl! How old is she?"

# Sonia has Tea

Sonia was hauled up to the house, and given a cup of tea, which was their late afternoon beverage. Then Sonia remembered that her father had an empty lot some miles away, on which he was hoping to build a cabin, just as a getaway for the Moraleses when it got too hot in the city.

Helen took a deep breath, and with a worried glance at Penny, revealed that she had been in housing construction, and could help build the cabin they wanted. "I could build it for little more than the cost of the materials," she offered, forgetting that they needed money on which to subsist.

Sonia's eyes opened wide. Gena grinned and nodded eagerly at Sonia; she knew very well that Helen was experienced in housing construction.

The next morning Helen was invited up to the Moraleses', where she uneasily began negotiating with Mr. Morales, or Paul, as he called himself. He questioned 'Steve' closely, obviously skeptical as to why someone who did not look at all a member of the working class should be in Steve's position, especially if he could easily get a job in construction. At this point, Helen had to confess that she did not have any documentation.

"You? Why not?"

Helen declined to answer, but she said: Try me; I'll build the cabin for you.

They drove out to the lot, which was about an hour away, and Paul showed 'Steve' the place. It had been carefully marked out, and there was a central clearing ready to go. Soon the Morales were more confident about whether Helen could actually build the cabin, simply based on the questions Helen asked them, and the suggestions she made. She said she could get started without a backhoe or any such heavy machinery. Paul was incredulous, and so was Penny, and Helen simply shrugged, and said she would ask for a backhoe if she absolutely needed it.

The next day, Helen and family moved their tent to the Morales lot. This meant that the kids had no playground in which to play, but they had a lot more privacy. Helen staked out the lines of the floor plan, and began to dig. Luckily the ground was reasonably free of rocks until they got down to about three feet, and Helen and Penny, between them, were able to dig out most of the foundations by sundown.

Helen now needed to bring in a certain amount of lumber and supplies, and they clearly needed a little truck. Paul Morales had asked Helen how she would manage with just an old Cadillac, and she had conceded that a truck would be needed pretty soon.

The next day, they went out to a used car dealership, when Helen realized that sooner or later she would need a false ID. The forged papers she needed would have to be the center of their disguise. But having absolutely no connections to the sort of folk who could lead her to someone who could produce illegal papers for her, Helen was at an impasse. They could not trade in the Cadillac, because it did not legally belong to them.

Marika came through. She had a friend who knew a fellow who could obtain all sorts of forged documents, and a meeting was set up, far away in San Diego. Helen showed up and waited at the appointed spot, and presently someone came over and stared at her.

"Who you waiting for?" demanded the man.

Helen shrugged and said she did not know the person, but she was here to meet someone. The man looked her up and down, and beckoned her into an alley that was pretty dark, even at 2:00 in the afternoon, but when Helen got there, the man had disappeared. She kept walking, and then heard, "Just a minute. Stop right there."

She turned around, and a thin man was watching her. He led her out of the alley, and into a deserted street behind some faceless brick walls.

"What's the story? You don't look like someone who doesn't have a DL. You look like a regular kid." Helen was suddenly angry. It was bad enough that she had to be in hiding, just to keep her kids, but to have to _look_ like she needed help irked her. "Matter of fact, you look like a girl. Jeeze. I have to put myself in trouble for _you?"_

"I _am_ a woman," said Helen, seething.

"That's what I said!"

"I'm on the run, from... the cops," she said softly.

"What you done?"

"They wanted to take my... adopted girls from me. So I took them and disappeared."

The man swore under his breath. Helen had been recognized; he had made the connection.

"They caught you abusing the kids? You a pervert? That's disgusting."

"No, sir. The kids were never abused by anyone."

The man stared at her a long time. "I know where to find you. Understand?" Helen nodded, feeling furious. "I hate people who hurt kids. Men or women. See what I mean?" Helen nodded. This fellow was setting himself up as a protector of the weak, but he was just a crook who made fake IDs for people. Still, Helen had to admire that he was not entirely a "No questions asked" kind of guy. "Bring me your actual driver's license, and two thousand bucks. I'll see you here tomorrow, at noon. Right here."

Helen shook her head. "I can't find that sort of money that fast!"

"You've gotta be kidding! You're loaded, everyone knows that!"

Helen shook her head. "I can't touch any money, without getting nabbed. They're waiting for money to be taken out of my bank."

"How much can you raise?"

Helen thought hard, barely able to think for the anger she was suppressing. "I think about... $800; maybe a thousand? No, not even that, so quickly. I'll have to borrow it, and that will make people suspicious!"

"OK. Bring me a thousand, and I'll get you a Social. Then you get your own DL."

"No, get me..."

The man jabbed his finger in Helen's face. "That's what you'll get. I get a thousand, or I might not be here tomorrow."

# Driver's License

Helen was in trouble. How was she to raise a thousand dollars overnight? She laid the problem at Penny's feet.

"Okay. Let's see what I got. I have a ring; that should get us a hundred or so... then... I have a hundred, which I have saved up, and if you can get an advance of $750 from Paul, we have the money!"

"What do you want so much money for, Mom?" asked Erin.

"We need to buy a fake driver's license for Miss Helen, sweetheart."

By a miracle, Gena had $20 she had saved up, and hidden in her backpack, and Erin had $50. Penny was angry that Erin had kept that from her for so long, and Erin swore that she was going to hand it over if money got any tighter.

The next morning, Helen knocked on the door of the Moraleses, and Sonia answered it. She immediately gave Helen an enormous hug, and smiled at her. "What brings you here?" she asked.

"I've got to get my hands on a lot of money by noon," she said, wondering whether she was creating trouble for herself by telling the kid. "I was going to ask your father for, like, an advance."

"Oh, you just need to get supplies for the cabin?"

"No, this is for something personal. I'll never get the money back!"

Sonia shook her head. " _I'll_ get you some money," she said, and ran inside. In a short while, she came back with $600 in bills of various denominations, when her mother suddenly appeared, ready to go to work.

"Oh, hi Steve! Did Paul give you some money for materials?" she asked, looking at all the money Helen and Sonia were holding in their hands. Sonia looked at Helen, scared, and Helen looked back, equally frightened.

"I... I was borrowing some money I need for... something personal," she said, turning red.

"No, Sonia. That's not appropriate. Please take the money back. Go on!"

Helen quickly gave the money back, her heart sinking. Then Isabel opened up her purse, and gave Helen several $100 bills. "How much do you need?" she asked, a little coolness slipping into her usually warm smile.

"Just... about $750," Helen said. It was all going out of control, and Helen just wanted to give up on everything. If it wasn't for Penny and Erin, she thought she could live on the meagre living she made from doing odd jobs in the towns, for the summer, at least.

"Here's a thousand," said Isabel. "It's a gift. You don't have to give it back. Spend it wisely."

Helen couldn't believe her good luck. She took the money without a word, and then said 'Thanks,' and walked out to where she had parked the Cadillac. It was a good two hours to San Diego. The group in the car was strangely silent; they were all there: Penny and all three girls. Allie was fast asleep, and Erin and Gena were whispering together.

Penny parked the car far away from the industrial area where Helen had met her ID forging friend. Helen had her old driver's license ready. When she got to the alley, the man appeared from somewhere. Helen gave him the $1200-odd she had collected, and the license.

"What do you want to call yourself?"

"Stephen Johnson," said Helen.

He asked for the middle initial Helen wanted, and her date of birth, and where she wanted to be born, and the address she wanted. She had said Trenton, NJ, and he said he couldn't do that. She had to pick a place of birth in California. Helen said Sacramento, and he nodded and walked off.

It was hard to hand over so much money, and have nothing to show for it. Helen came back to the car deeply depressed.

# The Cabin

Helen went to work. She mixed the concrete, and poured the foundations, with the older girls and Penny helping. There was a little spring from which they could get drinking water, and the creek provided water for the construction. It was going to be a sizable cabin, about 40 feet by 50 feet. There was going to be an outhouse to start with; they would add a full bath later.

All the materials had to be hauled out to the site on the Cadillac, which was very little suited for the job. But Helen plugged away at the job, and the foundations were all ready in a couple of days, made out of a combination of concrete and boulders she found on the site.

Now she was expected back in San Diego once again. The man had had pity on her, and delivered a very convincing-looking California driver's license, and a Social Security card for one Stephen R. Johnson, born about five years after Helen's own birthdate. It had cost almost thirteen hundred dollars, but Helen was elated, and Penny was pleased to see that smile on Helen's face once again. It was hard to understand why having a driver's license could elate her so much, but Helen felt on top of the world. It had been a great risk, to drive out to San Diego without a license, but Helen had hated to put the others through the tiresome drive to San Diego and back, most of it through heavy traffic.

"You can get a truck!" said Gena, her eyes wide. Helen's own truck, which Gena had admired, back when she was nine, was still parked in the driveway at 142 Gully Lane, but Marika had reported that the place had been bugged, and there was a hidden camera broadcasting video from Helen's house near Sacramento. That was a frightening thought. Helen said yes, she could buy a truck, but they had absolutely no extra money with which to do it.

# The cabin passes inspection

"You keep working; I'll find a little work," said Penny. So Helen waited until the concrete was cured, and with Gena, did a little of the landscaping they would have had to do anyway, once the cabin was up. They cleared out a path to a flat area in which the Morales family could park their cars, and got started on getting the working shed, in which they would do the carpentry work, the cutting and the sawing for the cabin. Together they built a sawhorse and a workbench, the way Helen's Dad, John Nordstrom had shown her years ago.

Penny came home very downhearted. She had earned about $40 as a cleaning person for a roadside diner some miles away. It was dull work, but not hard. She had watched the cook, and just knew she was a better cook than the idiot at the grill. Still, it meant some supplies.

"Just go out to Morales, and get an advance," suggested Penny. "Isabel knows you used up the money for something or other. As far as Paul knows, you don't have any money for materials!"

Helen felt awful about it, but it did make sense. Paul decided to come over and check out the work, and he was very pleased. He immediately gave Helen $500, which was enough to get started. A licensed contractor would have asked for a lot more, but Helen was not a licensed contractor.

"I guess you could really use a truck, huh?"

"Yup," said Helen. "That's next on the agenda!"

Paul looked quizzically at Helen. Helen had just realized that 'agenda' wasn't a clever word to have used. "When you decide to buy a truck, let me know. I know a guy who'd sell you a good one for cheap!"

"Oh, yeah? Wanna tell me now?"

Paul told her where. The following afternoon, Helen and the gang went out to the dealership, and Helen drove home a big Chevy pickup on a lease. It would cost her $40 a week, until it was paid for. Now, however inappropriately, they were a two-vehicle family, and Helen could drive, even if illegally, without an immediate likelihood of being arrested for driving without a license. She had been warned that the record that went with the license would not tolerate much scrutiny. It had absolutely nothing on it; if anyone were to put it though a background check, the game would be up.

The money Helen had been advanced had to be used frugally, since Helen was determined to pay Isabel back eventually. The money Penny was able to earn with such great difficulty had to be stretched for all their needs. On one of Paul's visits to the cabin, he had asked Helen whether she could arrange for a power line out to the site, and Helen had respectfully declined, saying that it was more complexity than she was able to handle at that point. "If you wait until Penny gets home," she said, "I'll come along, if there are questions." Helen had never had to deal with that aspect of housing construction, since the large contractors she had worked for had dealt with all that sort of thing.

Penny did come home with a paycheck, and Helen headed out to the Morales's home, and they hurried out to the offices of the local government and put in the application.

Alison had great trouble calling Helen 'Dad.' Helen had always been 'Mama' to her, and Penny, or at least Gena, had to keep her whenever Paul was around. At the end of the day, when Helen and Penny were tired, and looking forward to a few minutes of just sitting around their little second-hand card-table on their folding chairs, before they had to put something together for supper, Alison would walk over, and climb onto Helen's lap, and tell her a long rigmarole about her experiences of the day. And one day, she smiled at Helen and said, "I love you, Mama!" Little Erin was standing by, her face shining, and Helen knew who had coached the baby.

"I love you too, sweetheart!" Helen said, laying aside her disguise for a moment. Penny had been watching, and she marveled at how Helen stopped being a man, and became a woman again. Helen could do this; over the weeks, Helen's movements had become more masculine, and it was nothing she could put her finger on, but somehow, Helen had turned herself into a guy, a quiet, gentle guy, but still, most definitely a guy. Penny and Gena had talked about it when they had first had a moment to themselves, while Helen was away working her odd jobs. But Gena had begun to take it for granted now. Penny watched mother and daughter hug, and noted the pleasure on Helen's face, and how the habitual expression of worry seemed to evaporate!

They were at the end of an unpaved road in an isolated part of the state, close to Indian lands. The creek was becoming dry, and soon Helen would have to improvise a water cistern for the construction, which meant a water-pump. But at least as soon as their application for an electric line was approved, they would have electricity.

The cabin walls were completed, and Helen hurried with the roof, for which Penny and Gena had to help. Gena was not a strong child; she was very delicately built, and Helen had to rig all sorts of contraptions to help them raise the roof, but she was ingenuous, and very quickly they had a basic plywood roof over their heads, and they took down the tent. A few hours later, the shingles were on, and the roof was mostly complete.

"Mom, you're awesome," breathed Gena, admiring the work they had done in just a few weeks. She had started calling Helen _Mom_ , influenced by Erin.

"I coulda done it faster, if I had help," Helen said, without thinking.

"We helped you, Mom!" said Gena, indignantly, and Helen had to agree that they had. Gena had helped a great deal, and Erin had done what she could, but she had been on Alison duty whenever Penny was away working.

Paul Morales was delighted with the cabin. He could hardly take it in. "I just can' believe it," he said, his accent broadening with his excitement. "I will give you a bonus. Steve, you are amazing! Listen, have you guys found a place to live?"

"No, sir," said Helen, politely. "We haven't been looking; we've been too busy."

"Hey, you know what? You can stay here for a while, but after that, I need to charge some rent. Just a little bit. I have to start paying back for the land mortgage, you know? It was expensive."

"I understand," said Helen.

"Jeeze, that was cheap," said Penny, after Mr. Morales had left.

"Well, he paid me $5,000!"

"Wow. In cash?"

"Yup!"

"Still, that's nothing. I bet it would cost a heck of a lot more if he had it built by, like, a company."

Helen shook her head. _Wow,_ she mouthed, a characteristic expression for Helen. It was a lot of money to be carrying around. "I'm going to give back Isabel's money," she said, looking serious.

"But it was a gift! She'll probably hate to get it back!"

Helen shook her head. "I'll return it, and then... It'll be up to her to insist that I keep it." Helen shook her head. They also had to pay off the truck. "If she only knew..." Knew what? That Helen was worth several million dollars, but of course Isabel could not be told the truth, mostly for her own sake.

# Finishing Touches

There was still a little work to be done, finishing the inside of the cabin. Helen took pride in her work, and she had a few ideas about how she could make the cabin more comfortable, and easier to maintain, and still preserve the woodsy charm of it. It already had a serviceable kitchen, and the cabin would be quite comfortable for Helen's little family for a long time, but Helen was determined to find them a real house they could live in soon.

They still had no beds; Helen had only rigged platform beds for them all: one platform for herself and Penny, and one larger one for the older girls, and a little crib for Alison.

At night, though Helen and Penny shared a bed, and were very tender with each other, simply because of their brief history together, and because Helen was an affectionate woman, and because Penny brought out the protective instinct in her, Helen felt no more for her than a deep friendship. But, unfortunately, Penny had given her heart to Helen very soon after getting to know her. Helen was a big-made, sometimes awkward girl, often preoccupied with her own affairs—except in the case of the two girls, whom she adored. Now, having taken Penny under her wing, she had begun to feel towards Penny almost as much as she felt for little Erin, and she had come to love little Erin almost as much as she loved Gena and Allie. But when Helen had taken on the male persona of Steve, Penny could barely conceal her desire for her, and Helen was now the undisputed queen of Penny's heart. Penny had thought that her unhappy marriage with her husband had put her off men for good, but she realized that she still had a thing for strong, gentle persons, such as Steve was.

One night, after a long day in which Helen had worked very hard, Penny saw Helen lying in bed in her boxer shorts, and trying to read in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Penny wore one of the two nightgowns she had brought. She always tried to look as fetching as she could for Helen's sake, hoping that Helen would notice her. Penny had a nice figure, a sweet face, and the lovely rich red hair that Helen had noticed in the photographs. She had the elfin looks of her Irish ancestors, but accustomed to being surrounded by truly beautiful women, Helen could not take Penny seriously as a romantic prospect. Penny knew this, and had forgiven Helen already, but could not help lusting after Helen anyway.

Tonight, Penny decided she would make Helen notice her.

"Shall I give you a massage? Would you like that?" she asked softly. And Helen knew instantly what it meant.

Helen sighed softly, and smiled at Penny. "Yes, Penny," she answered, equally softly, "I would like that!"

They made love that night. Penny gave Helen the promised massage, which turned into more intimate caresses than were traditional in ordinary massages. Then Helen told her to get comfortable, and massaged her in turn. Helen had actually been taught sensual massage, and she soon had Penny writhing with pleasure, biting her own hand to keep from crying out. "Oh, Miss Helen..."

"Just Helen, Penny; just Helen... we're partners now, right? You're my partner, hon."

"... Don't do anything you don't want to do, Helen... I know you belong to... someone else!"

"Hush, Penny... we'll talk about that later, okay?"

This conversation was all carried out in whispers, and then Helen was on top of Penny, and they were kissing like lovers, and Helen remembered how to be passionate. Penny forgot herself, and begged Helen to have her way with her. It was a long time later when they calmed their breathing, and took stock of what had happened to them. Helen had been a lot more forceful than she had been with a woman in a long time.

"Are you okay?" Helen whispered, a little worriedly.

"Oh, Miss Helen... you really know how to... show a girl a good time!" Penny gasped. She felt bruised all over, but she felt wonderful, far more satisfied than she had felt in years.

Helen kissed her several times, and admitted that she had needed that. "Sometimes... I need rough sex," she said, caressing Penny, "and I forget how much it can hurt, if I'm not careful... I'm sorry!"

Penny held Helen's curly-haired head in her hands, and kissed her firmly. "I loved it!" she said, her eyes glowing. "I'm your slave, forever!"

Helen giggled quietly. Then she was serious. "You've saved my life several times," she said. "I won't forget!"

"I would die for you," said Penny. "I'm serious. All I ask is that you take Erin as... your pupil."

Helen nodded, gravely.

They were up early the next day; it was a habit. It would be awkward if they were caught asleep, before Helen could put on her Steve persona. While they were having breakfast, Isabel Morales arrived in her Mercedes, having carefully navigated the rough, unpaved road to the cabin.

"Hi, everybody! My goodness, it looks perfect! Can I see?"

"Sure!" said Helen, who was already dressed in her Steve clothes of polo-necked shirt and jeans. By now, Helen's arms had become quite muscular, and she filled out her jeans beautifully; it was hard to notice that her buttocks were a little fuller than a guy's should have been—as Gena had already observed.

After Isabel had looked over the cabin, Helen took her aside, and gave her the $1000 that she owed Isabel.

"It was a gift, Steve! Keep it!"

Helen shook her head, and held out the money in the envelope. Her smile was just her usual shy smile, but there was just a touch of pride there, which told Isabel that _if_ the money had been desperately needed, well, Helen would have told her. Penny, watching the interaction between the two women (though, of course, Helen was disguised as a man,) could see how Helen could attract people to her so easily. She was just being herself, or at least a masculine _version_ of herself. The smile Isabel bestowed on Helen made Penny very nervous. Penny was crazy to have set her sights on this woman.

After inquiring into how their house search was going, Isabel took one last look around the cabin site, and departed.

# Music

One day, the little group locked up their stuff in the cabin, and went into one of the larger towns close by, and triumphantly returned with a little electronic keyboard. The older girls were going to get lessons! The little device worked off six big flashlight batteries, but could use a power cord, too. Erin could hardly wait until Helen got going with a lesson.

First, Helen reviewed with Gena all that she could remember, which was a lot, as Erin stood by with her ears flapping. Then it was Erin's turn. The kid was so musical, it seemed that she knew what Helen was telling her before the words could even leave Helen's lips. She was given some things to practice, which she and Gena faithfully did every chance they got, with Gena showing her additional things, keeping a wary eye on Helen to see if she objected. Over a week, the two girls had learned almost a year's worth of music theory, and both of them were learning new songs, almost a couple of new pieces a day.

Erin was insatiable, and Penny watched their progress with happy eyes.

"You were absolutely right," Helen conceded, the week after the keyboard had been brought home, "music just pours out of her!"

"Some of it is just being around you," Penny said, as she rested in Helen's arms.

"Did you have any lessons?" Helen asked. She sounded sweet and feminine; she wasn't being Steve. Penny nodded. But she had been a wild kid, or at least, if not wild, at least undisciplined as a child, and had never taken her lessons seriously. Helen suspected that Penny had had a fair education, judging from her speech, and just living with her, but Helen desisted from quizzing her about it any further. Now, though, the music bug had bitten her, and Penny was picking up quite a lot of music simply watching the two girls at their lessons.

Penny knew that Helen was the only woman she could ever love, now that she had found her. No matter what Helen believed, Helen _owned_ Penny completely. Penny had to battle the jealousy she felt when Helen smiled at other women, especially that Isabel and her daughter! Penelope O'Brien's intense love for Helen had begun to blossom when she observed Helen interacting with Erin, her child. Now, of course, that connection was still strong; no mother could completely ignore someone who was so loving to her child. But Penny was in love with Helen quite independently of the Erin factor, and she was beginning to suspect that Helen loved her, too. Each time they made love, Penny was more certain than before that her bond with Helen went both ways.

Erin did not have the lovely, angelic voice that Gena had been gifted with, but she could sing, and she loved to sing, and she sang accurately. From the time they had taken up music in the little cabin, Penny noticed a significant improvement in their morale.

Helen did not neglect the other aspects of the schooling of the children. She had to find a way of getting them into school, while she worked on some permanent solution to the problem of adopting the kids. If the law would never recognize her rights over the children, or at least their right to be together, the three of them, then, well, Helen was resigned to living as a fugitive. But if there was the slightest chance that the judge's decision could be reversed, then Helen was determined to pursue the possibility. She had to put the case into the hands of the most powerful lawyers she could find, in such a way that she would not put herself and the girls at risk of being traced.

They had found some old math workbooks at a second-hand store, which Helen had inspected carefully and liked, and the girls worked at them together, and Penny was surprised to see that Gena actually _liked_ to work at them, and Erin had caught Gena's enthusiasm.

A couple of years earlier, Helen had gotten Gena started on what she called _journaling,_ which was keeping a diary in a sort of adult way, as if writing for a magazine. Gena had brought her journal with her, but she had been carefully instructed not to put in any details which would lead to their being traced if the journal happened to fall into the hands of the Long Arm of The Law. It was difficult to explain to Gena that policemen were their friends, but that temporarily they were to be avoided, simply because the Judge had decided that Helen had to be kept away from Gena and Allie, and in this case the Judge was wrong.

Erin, too, had begun a journal. From the time they had met, Erin had become very attached to Gena and Alison, and anything interested that Gena was doing, Erin wanted to do, too. Erin looked after Alison even when Gena was distracted. By the time they were settled at the cabin, Erin and the two Nordstrom girls were absolutely inseparable.

# Moving On

It was time for Helen to find permanent work. Now that she had a driver's license, she could easily find work, though of course, casual work would be a lot safer than formal employment, simply because if taxes were to be deducted regularly, her Social Security number would come under scrutiny, and that would be a problem. Her friend who had forged the driver's license for her had intimated that for a little extra money, she could get an identity actually stolen from a real person. Helen had felt uncomfortable about that offer, and had not followed up.

Marika had set up a means of communicating with Helen that was safe, and one day there was a surprising call.

"Helen, can you pick me up at the airport? I'm here!"

"Michelle! How... why..."

"I'll tell you later!"

To Penny's utter consternation, an hour later, Helen was reunited with Michelle Smith.

# Michelle

Marsha Moore was a famous Hollywood movie icon, who had been briefly Helen's partner, but more importantly, who had an extensive network of secret employees who enabled Marsha's friends to adopt various disguises, and go on adventures incognito.

Michelle had come to Los Angeles on a photo shoot, and had been met by Marsha Moore, who had handed Michelle instructions, which gave her a rendezvous. When Michelle turned up, Marsha and her staff had offered to disguise her completely, after which she had been dropped off at a satellite airport, to wait for Helen. With the new security regulations, Marsha could not fly, but airports were still places at which someone could wait for a long time to be picked up. Marsha had also provided her with a fake driver's license, under the name of Francesca Sullivan, and she was going to come stay with Helen!

Penny recovered quickly. She had an inkling, from having learned about Helen from various sources before they had ever met, that Helen was associated with many women, but Helen had been successful at keeping most of the details of her private life quite private, except for Marsha Moore, of course, and even that relationship had been in the popular media only for a brief year, after which it had been widely publicized that the couple had broken up (in order for Helen to go back to College, as it happened, where she had met and fallen in love with Lalitha).

In the excitement of being reunited with Michelle, Helen had completely forgotten about Penny, but Erin and Gena had noticed Penny's brief expression of dismay, and Gena, wise beyond her years, had made sure that Penny had time to come to terms with the new situation. Gena did not approve of Helen's wandering eye, and to be fair, Helen was aware of Gena's disapproval, which had the effect of her trying hard to keep her little crushes on various women away from Gena's notice.

It took a while for Michelle to realize that Helen was disguised as a man. She had recognized Helen right away, and hurried over into Helen's arms, but as always, Michelle had been silent, only her expression of bliss revealing that she was happy to meet Helen.

"So you're..."

"Yup. It's _Steve_ , by the way!"

"Introduce me, Steve... Hi, I'm Michelle!"

"Penny! Penny O'Brien, and this is Erin! Welcome to California!" said Penny, graciously. Michelle had not dressed up, or worn the makeup she would have when modeling, but she was still beautiful, and her voice was quiet and sweet, and Penny's heart fell. Suddenly, Helen was aware of the situation, and she was struck by how graciously Penny was greeting Michelle. Helen was not very observant of the emotional currents swirling around her, but when she did notice, she was immediately aware of the implications. She also saw how Gena and Erin were coping with all of this, and she realized that all she could do was to be as undemonstrative as possible.

Earlier that year, in Philadelphia, Michelle had been very unhappy with all the affection Lorna was accustomed to giving Helen. Michelle had never said anything, but only quietly sighed her frustration. Helen had asked her if it bothered her, and she had only shrugged. It wasn't that Michelle was unintelligent, but that she was very long-suffering, and not very assertive. Now, seeing Penny and Helen together, she knew for a certainty that they simply had to have been intimate. But Michelle was now reunited with Helen, and she was patient, and she was in seventh heaven.

"Where's Lucy?" Gena asked, suddenly, as they were driving home, with Michelle and Penny in front, and the kids in the back.

"With Lorna," said Michelle, in her quiet voice.

"Oh man, she must be so mis'rable!"

"Oh, no. Lorna came by every day, once you had gone, and Lucy and she are really good, now."

"She did? Lorna came by every day, to look after Lucy?"

"Well, to make sure I was okay, I guess. Yeah, she was really nice. I like Lorna," said Michelle. "And Lalitha was by every day, to check on me."

This was quite a turnaround. Michelle had great reservations about Lorna, but evidently Lorna had taken pity on Michelle, and decided to make sure she was coping with the separation from Helen and the children. Helen was learning that there was a lot of depth to Lorna, whom she had considered to be just an oversexed teenager. Lalitha, of course, worked at the instrument factory, which was in the adjoining lot to Helen's house, where Michelle was staying.

Now with Michelle joining them, they just had to find a larger place. Michelle offered to take a room in a hotel for a while, using one of Marsha's credit cards. Helen dropped her off, and on the drive home, Helen and Penny discussed what their next move would be.

"I'm going to get a job," Helen declared.

The easiest thing was to get a job in construction, and after a few days of looking, Helen found a construction team looking to expand, and only looking for part-time labor. Helen knew that they would give her almost full-time work, but the idea was to avoid having to give benefits. Penny offered to pick Michelle up, and Helen nodded, not knowing how to respond. Both of them had been too upset the previous night to sleep together, but there had been no arguments or disagreement, they had just quietly slept, tacitly agreeing not to be intimate. Sooner or later, Penny knew, Helen would have to go to bed with Michelle.

Somehow, after a little awkwardness, Penny and Michelle hit it off beautifully. There was no good reason for it, but that each of them had decided not to make things awkward for the other or for Helen. The girls, of course, had gone along to pick Michelle up. "Aunt Michelle," Gena had said, "we could go look for houses!"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Penny had admitted, and the five of them had driven around, and found a house near where Helen was working. It was some distance from a large town, and Michelle worried about how they would manage. Penny had told Michelle how she worked at the diner in the afternoons.

# The New House

Over a couple of days, Helen, Michelle, Penny and the kids were settled in a new house. Helen was fearful about Michelle being recognized, so Michelle stayed home with Penny, while Helen worked at the construction site.

Helen was a good worker, and was well liked by her fellow-workers and the supervisors, and her scientific background meant that the electrical systems that they installed were carefully and knowledgeably done, which was something that they were very happy about. Helen made a lot of money for the hours that she worked, but they were short hours, and there were no benefits, no health insurance, and it was lucky for them that none of the kids got very sick.

The most interesting thing was that within a few weeks, everyone at the house noticed that Helen was not getting her periods. Then Michelle recalled that Helen had spent two nights with the young fellow from Rhode Island, and Helen was red-faced. Pregnancy was something she had never worried about; but she had been careless, and getting pregnant at this point was going to complicate matters seriously.

"Still, you're not showing," said Michelle, loyally, and Helen had to admit that it was so.

Soon, Helen was violently sick in the mornings, and Penny and Michelle had the unfamiliar job of fussing over Helen, who normally never had a day's sickness that either of them could remember. Also, luckily, though teenagers of Gena's age were getting their periods, Gena was blithely free of the visitation, and indeed was not conscious of the fact that she was unusual in any way. Helen and the other two women, if they noticed, put it down to the fact that Gena was very active and unusually thin, and as far as they knew, ultra-thin, ultra-active young girls had delayed onset of puberty.

# Waiting Tables

"I'm gonna get a night job," Helen announced one day. Helen headed into the nearest large town, which was some twenty miles away, and saw a Help Wanted poster at a large restaurant. She applied, and was hired, on trial for a week. They liked her work, and soon Steve was on the payroll. So now, after working at the construction site, Helen had less than three hours to rest, before she had to clean up, dress according to their uniform code, drive the twenty miles out to the restaurant, and start working.

The third day she was at work, a gaggle of Latina girls came in, and Helen was assigned to their table. They began to flirt outrageously with her, some five of them, and one of them in particular, whom the others called Alyssa. They left Helen a huge tip, which brought her total tips to close to 100 dollars for the night.

One day, one of the Latinas, Alissa, who had given her the enormous tip, came to the restaurant by herself. The head waitress, having noticed that the young lady belonged to the group who had enjoyed Helen's service so much, once again assigned her to Helen's table. Helen spoke politely with her, as it was not a busy evening, and Helen had time. She turned out to be an intelligent and engaging conversationalist, and she stayed, drinking coffee, until closing time, having ascertained when Helen got off. When Helen finished up for the evening, and with cleaning up, and went out to the parking lot, there she was, waiting for Helen. Helen was exasperated.

Helen was never unhappy about making a new conquest, but these days, they were a liability.

"Hi! I was hoping I could catch you before you left for home!"

"Well, you caught me!" Helen said, with a smile.

"Do you live close by? I was hoping we could walk together!"

Helen was taken unawares. It had been a long time since she had lived where she could _walk_ to a restaurant.

"You walked here?"

"Sure!"

"But... isn't it dangerous to walk home, at this time?"

She shrugged, and smiled. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to walk alone!" _Do you speak Spanish?_ she asked, in that language.

_A little,_ said Helen.

Oh, good! Where do you live?

Far away! I guess I could walk you home, or give you a ride.

That would be great! I'm so sorry; I assumed you would be from around here!

Helen got her seated in her truck, and took her home. It was a large house, and she said that she shared it with the other four girls who had visited the restaurant with her. Helen waited until she was safely inside, and drove away.

# Alyssa

A few days later, Alyssa was back with her friends. Helen again waited on them, and after they had eaten, when Helen finished her shift and went out into the parking lot, Alyssa was there, alone, waiting for her.

Steve, my friend! How are you doing?

_I'm well,_ said Helen, startled.

Well, guess what! I met someone you know: her name is Sonia! You remember Sonia?

_Certainly,_ said Helen, relieved. Sonia was unlikely to spread any negative information about Steve.

She said, you are a good repairman!

_I don't know; I know some things, but not everything! What do you need?_ Helen wanted certain things for the family, luxuries that she could not afford right then. A little extra work would be welcome.

Take me home, and I will show you!

Helen took her home, and she cautioned Helen to be quiet, and led her inside. It was a large, lovely home, but there were water stains on one wall, and Helen nodded. She led Helen out the back, where there was a pool, and a little apartment adjoining it, a complete little unit, which was completely empty. She motioned Helen inside, and closed the door.

"The girls are sleeping, and if they wake up...!" she smiled and shrugged. Helen smiled and nodded, though she did not understand the problem. "There is a leak," Alyssa continued in good English, "can you fix it?" Helen nodded. "They will go home this weekend, and if you come early on Saturday, you can fix it. How much will you charge?"

"For you, free!" said Helen, surprising herself.

Alyssa smiled, and demurred. She would give Helen something, and if Helen didn't tell her how much, it would be so generous that Helen would be embarrassed! Somehow they came to an agreement.

On Saturday, having told Penny about the job, Helen hurried out to Alyssa's beautiful home as early as she could, and knocked softly at the door, and waited.

Presently, Alyssa came to the door in a translucent cotton nightie. Opening the door a crack, she recognized Steve, and motioned her in, modestly covering her breasts. "I was so afraid of missing you, I slept on the sofa," she revealed, bestowing a sweet smile on Helen. "I have a ladder, if you wait until I get ready," she said. Helen agreed, and sat down to wait.

Presently, she came back down, wearing shorts and a T shirt, and looking a little more awake.

"Have you had breakfast? No? Do you like Chorizos?" Helen said yes, she did, and she invited Helen into her kitchen, telling her that the girls had left for the weekend. With practiced ease, she put a quick breakfast together, while Helen admired her efficiency, and they sat and ate, while she explained that it was her own house; she was the child of wealthy parents, but the income from the rent definitely helped.

Unlike Sonia, Alyssa was all business. She was a good helper, and Helen soon had the leak fixed, and promised to come by another time to fix the paint.

The following week, Helen and Alyssa went out to select paint, and between them painted the wall fairly quickly.

Sonia told me you are married, Steve; is it true?

Helen smiled and said, yes, she was, and had three kids. _Good thing, or I would not leave you alone!_ Helen smiled her practiced 'guy' smile, and shrugged.

"Would you like to go round the house?"

"Sure," said Helen, and she walked Helen through. The upper floor had four rooms, all of them thoroughly untidy, and the lower floor the usual living room, kitchen, and a full bath, but also, to Helen's surprise, a beautiful music room, with a small grand piano, of an excellent Korean make.

"Are you a musician, then?" asked Helen, salivating over the piano.

"Yes, just a little! You want to hear me play?" Helen nodded, interested. To her surprise, she sat down and played a not very well-known Bach prelude, and played it well.

"Can you play?" asked Alyssa, looking at Helen intently.

Helen shrugged. She was going on autopilot now, and could not help herself. She sat down, and played the fugue that went with the prelude Alyssa had played, and Alyssa stared at her, stunned. Within a few bars, Helen had realized the utter folly of what she had done, and she faltered to a halt.

"Oh, my god," she said, "I know who you are! I know who you are!"

They stared at each other, Helen feeling utterly stupid, and the girl shocked.

"Don't worry," she said, coming to grip both of Helen's arms tight. "Tell me! Did you ever hurt those girls? Did you ever? Look at me, and tell me. If you lie, I would know. Tell me!"

Helen shook her head. "Nobody accused me of harming them! If you want... I could show you the girls. You could talk to them!"

"Then what is all this? I do not understand!"

Helen, now red-faced, patiently explained that she was mostly a lesbian, and that the stated reason for the court's action was that they anticipated that Helen was going to be a bad influence on the kids.

"That is not a good reason, my friend. There are many, many women like you, and they are fine people. I thought that there was something, but there is nothing!"

Alyssa gave Helen a fierce embrace, and told her that if she ever needed help, Alyssa should be the first one she called. "And if you need money, I have other jobs for you!" she said, with a twinkle in her eye.

Helen told the others that very afternoon, that their cover had been pierced by this customer from the restaurant, but that she was sympathetic, and would keep their secret. "She would like to come by and visit," she added.

The others had been very upset by the news, mostly Gena. She had asked whether Helen trusted the lady, and Helen had said that she did. Gena nodded, and Helen drove out again, and brought Alyssa with her. Alyssa had a nice big Ford Explorer, and she parked on the street outside, and came in and met the family.

# Carol and Barbara

Among Helen's co-workers was a lovely woman, Carol Cromack, who greatly admired 'Steve'. All the guys made fun of the fact that Carol was beginning to bring Steve cookies and brownies from home, and she fussed over him every chance she got. Helen, for her part, really liked Carol as well, who though she lavished her affection on Steve, was not flirtatious or inappropriate in her attentions.

One day, she invited Steve home with her, saying that she had someone she wanted Steve to meet. It turned out that she had a daughter, Barbara, a senior in high school.

When Helen set eyes on young Barbara, she was stunned. Barb was an incredibly beautiful young woman, simply radiantly lovely, with the most beautiful manners. And the moment she saw Steve, it was clear that she was captivated. Mother and daughter had, in fact, prepared an entire meal for Helen (disguised as Steve, of course), and insisted that Steve should sit and eat with them.

Helen ate the wonderful, lavish meal, and excused herself as soon as it was polite to do so. Carol had given her a friendly hug of farewell, and then, Helen had been taken aback when Barbara had come forward, and done the same, and given her a soft kiss on the cheek. Helen had said her thanks, and goodbyes, and fled.

The following day, Carol had taken Helen aside, and explained that she had brought up young Barbara very carefully indeed, to shun what she perceived as all the vices and poor habits of the young people they were surrounded with: alcohol, drugs, licentious behavior, inattention to schoolwork, and outrageous promiscuity. Barbara, in short, kept aloof from all her classmates and the young people in the area, and kept strictly to herself. Barbara had been very demurely dressed, indeed, Helen had noticed, and Carol herself was very proper in her behavior.

Carol was determined that Barbara should escape the hard life that Carol had been doomed to live, working hard for a livelihood, and should get a good education, and find a decent young fellow to marry.

"Steve, I know you have some college; you just can't hide that. Why don't you go back to school? If you really want to do that, Barbara and I could help!"

Helen was taken aback. First of all, how could Carol tell? Secondly, how did Carol plan to help?

It turned out that Carol was very observant, and putting Helen's educated speech and vocabulary together with the scientific knowledge that Helen clearly had, as well as her diplomatic way of ensuring that the electrical wiring was done according to standards that were higher than code, she had somehow deduced that Helen had spent time among educated people, which meant attending college. She had assumed that, if Helen had _completed_ college, she would not be working in construction, which was a fair conclusion. And she wanted Steve for her daughter.

"But I'm married, and I have kids!" Helen blurted out.

Carol was utterly devastated. They were alone, and there was no one to witness Carol's look of defeat but Helen.

To her credit, Carol recovered well. She was mortified, but she managed a smile, and apologized. "You look so young... I thought... I was _sure_ that... Steve... you can't be old enough to marry? I thought you might be—I don't know—twenty?"

"Oh no, I'm... twenty five," Helen said, unable to stop herself from blushing, which of course made her look _very_ young.

"Are you a father, really? You really have kids?"

Helen nodded, thinking fast. She would have to convince Carol—and Barbara, evidently—that she did have children.

"Yeah, two of my own," she said, thinking furiously, because Gena and Allie did look a lot like Helen. "Actually... it's my second marriage; the first one didn't work out..."

"Oh... well, it happens..."

In fact, Carol had divorced her husband, who she said was an incorrigible alcoholic, and Carol had moved out West to get as far from him as she possibly could. Helen added that hers was a blended family, and revealed that her wife had her own child.

Carol covered her cheeks and shook her head. Then she softly said that Barbara had been completely swept off her feet by Helen. It had been love at first sight, apparently, and she had spoken of nothing but 'Steve' all night long.

"Oh god... she's going to be... Well, what's to be done. I should have... made sure..."

"I'm sorry! It was my fault; I should have taken you home, and introduced you to Frankie!"

Carol smiled, but Helen could see the disappointment in her eyes. She loved her only child dearly, and Carol wanted Steve for Barbara for reasons that were excellent, in her mind: she had decided that he was the sort of upright, trustworthy, gentle man that would be kind to his family, and above all she wanted to entrust Barb to such a man.

Helen found it hard to concentrate on her work the remainder of the day, and observant Carol saw this, and it confirmed her conviction that Steve was really as wonderful a human being as she had thought all along, and she castigated herself for having overlooked the very real possibility that Steve was spoken for, and had responsibilities as a father already. She could have kicked herself for being so stupid.

Within a day or two, Carol had recovered from her disappointment in Steve, and begun to speak to him again, but it was inevitable that there was a lot of reserve in her manner towards Steve, though she was absolutely classy in everything she did. But in another few days, she took Steve aside. She looked weary and defeated, and told him that Barbara had begun to starve herself. She came to table, but was unable to force anything down, and got violently sick when she did eat anything. Carol tried hard to keep from crying, but the tears came, anyway.

"For ten years, I've been able to take care of her, all by myself, without the help of... a man, you know?" Helen nodded, feeling miserable. "But this... I don't know what to do! I'm finding it hard to eat, myself; but I just... I don't want to just... sit around and cry, but I'm helpless!"

"Well, it sounds like depression, which is a serious condition! You should take her in, to a doctor!"

"But what can they do?"

Helen shrugged. She knew what it meant; it meant drugs, and she had been on them, and she had not liked the feeling one little bit. In fact, the drugs that she had been prescribed when Gena and Allie had been taken away had made her more determined than ever to kill herself, and provided the calmness she needed to proceed with her deadly plans.

The mere _thought_ of lovely Barbara killing herself made Helen shudder, and Carol's eyes widened with alarm. Helen was not about to tell her what she was thinking, so she kept silent.

"It doesn't matter what it costs," Steve (Helen) said, gritting her teeth, "let's take her in. This is serious. Where is she?"

"At home! She refused to go to school."

That was another problem: Penny and Michelle were home-schooling the girls, because there was no way to get them admitted to a school without papers. So far, the girls were taking it well, but it was not a good long-term solution to the problem of schooling.

Helen persuaded Carol to take the rest of the morning off, and Helen did the same, and they hurried to Carol's home.

Barbara was in bed, covered up with a blanket. When Helen came into her room, she sat up in bed, and smiled, but soon it faded away, as the girl realized that Steve was out of her reach.

"Mom?" she said, softly, and Carol left the room. Barb patted the bed, nodding at Helen to come sit by her.

"Are you really married?" she asked softly. Helen was amazed; it seemed that the girl had been brought up not to evade anything, but to ask her questions head on. That was not a good thing; Barb had to learn tact, if she was to survive in the world.

Helen nodded gravely. "Barb, there are lots of other fellows out there. Carol must let you get out and meet people; keeping you a prisoner here is foolish!"

"Oh... I meet plenty of people, Steve." She sighed. "It's not your problem, anyway... It's hard to explain!" She looked at Helen pityingly, as if it was impossible to explain what love was, if you had never truly loved. "The feelings of a woman are... different from what guys feel, you know? Girls love with their entire... _being_. I think with most guys, love means something entirely different. Sometimes girls convince themselves that there's love, when it's only that _they're_ in love, but... the guy really _isn't_. That sounds insulting, but I didn't mean it that way."

It was not the time for Helen to explain that the attraction had indeed been mutual. Helen was just beginning to learn that she would _always_ be attracted to certain kinds of people, but she just had to walk away. If she allowed herself to respond to Barbara, it would destroy Helen, and Gena, Allie, Penny, and Erin, not to mention Michelle. Even as she was thinking, Barbara's incredible spell was having its effect on Helen again, and Barbara could see it. Barbara leaned forward and put her arms around Helen, and Helen did not have the heart to push her away. Before she could think, Barbara was kissing her on the lips, repeatedly, but still chastely, but her heart was racing, and Helen feared for her. This level of excitement was not good for a girl who had starved for close to a week.

"Calm down, Barb," she breathed, stroking the girl's back, "please calm down! Barb, look at me!"

Presently Barb did calm down, and looked at Helen, her eyes brimming with tears. Oh, she was so impossible to resist! Helen could almost hear her suicidal thoughts, but the kid was too polite to voice them.

"Will you come with me to see a doctor? And then we can go see my kids?"

She slowly smiled, and nodded. It had been the right approach; she was too decent to refuse to see the kids, and in the same agreement, she had agreed to see a doctor.

Helen led her to the bathroom, and actually helped her wash her face, and briefly she was distracted from her dismal preoccupation, and took pleasure in being attended so sweetly by Helen, and Carol was pleased to see her smile, and they set out for the town with a positive outlook.

Though Helen had worried that the physician would make a fuss, and insist that Barbara should be seen by a psychologist, he did see her, and prescribed a mild drug with which Helen was not familiar, and Helen suspected that it was so mild that it was, for all intents and purposes, a placebo. They got the prescription filled quickly—luckily it was not too terribly expensive—and Barbara took the first dose, and immediately declared that she felt better. It was mostly for the benefit of her mother, Helen suspected, and she was pleased that the girl was growing up. The pair could not survive unless the daughter took a little responsibility for the well-being of her mother.

Helen picked up her truck, and led the way to their house, where Penny and Michelle were ready to receive them, Helen having warned them that she was bringing visitors.

The meeting of the Cromacks and the Johnsons went really well. Gena was her usual charming self, and soon Barbara was cooing over Alison, with Gena and Erin looking on. Gena was clearly ravished by Barbara's spectacular beauty, while Michelle and Penny visited with Carol. Helen was pleased to see that Carol had taken a liking to the two women. Helen had said over the phone that it was safest to say that Penny was visiting; otherwise it would be difficult to explain how Erin was related to them.

[Author's note: In the original story, the relationship between Barbara and Steve becomes a lot more intense. I think I had met a young woman who had bowled me over, and I must have sublimated my feelings by writing them into the story. In any case, Barbara is an intensely passionate girl, who is nevertheless very innocent, and creates elaborate explanations to rationalize her—somewhat limited—intimacy with Steve. But they were obviously just a little too elaborate for me to recall, and I'm sure my readers will be relieved to not be subjected to all that.]

When Carol and Barbara finally left, Helen thought that Barbara was looking immensely better, but she knew that sooner or later Barbara would get depressed again. Barbara happened to also reveal that she hardly read at all, and had borrowed one of Gena's books, which seemed a good way to get the young woman in the habit of reading.

While Helen was out working in the mornings, it happened that Penny and Michelle began an intimate relationship. It started with Penny innocently offering to give Michelle a massage, after they had both worked for a while in the small vegetable garden that Penny had started in their back yard. Michelle had started an experimental row of roses she had bought and planted in front, but Penny had decided that onions and garden vegetables would be more useful. But the ground was unexpectedly rocky, and it had entailed a lot of digging, and after a while, Michelle had gone to help.

Michelle, however, was not a strong person, and the least exertion gave her trouble. So, in the late morning, Penny offered Michelle a massage, as Helen had taught her.

The massage became a regular occurrence. Michelle and Helen now slept together, though that move had filled Helen with a degree of guilt, but Penny had reminded her that their informal agreement, as Penny understood it, was sufficiently flexible to accommodate other lovers that Helen might have wished to have. This was the whole point, Penny emphasized; the _housekeeper_ would be a constant presence, though lovers might come and go. Erin was, unexpectedly, unhappy, but she put a brave face on it. Her loyalty to Helen did not depend on Helen being her mother's lover.

Very gradually, Penny extended greater intimacy towards Michelle, and eventually the two of them talked it over, and decided that a little sex in the late mornings would not break their world apart. Helen was less interested in sex these days, anyway, and these late-morning, secret sessions, while the kids were busy with their workbooks, and Allie was taking a nap, was a relief to both of them.

Barbara had obtained a driver's license, and after her mother returned from work in the early afternoon, came visiting a couple of times a week. Her reason was, ostensibly, to see the kids, especially Alison, though Carol and Helen suspected that it was more to see Helen (Steve). But Gena and Barb were becoming special friends. The two of them made an occasional visit to the local library, where Gena encouraged Barb to check out books for herself, which they did on Barb's card, since Gena did not have her own. The librarians urged Gena to get her own card, but she steadfastly refused, something that puzzled Barbara. Gena, of course, could explain neither why she was home-schooled, nor why she could not get her own library card.

Helen began putting on weight uniformly. Carol, who had no inkling that her friend Steve was a woman, observed the weight gain with alarm, as did Barbara, and all the guys at work. Some of them wondered aloud whether Steve might not have got his wife pregnant, and was having a sympathetic pregnancy. Steve took all this ribbing with a laugh, but admitted that he needed to work out. Carol asked around, and found a pair of barbells that someone had stopped using, and brought it round, having tactfully asked Steve whether he might be interested. Carol never ceased to surprise Helen with how much of a lady she was. Though she occasionally lapsed into the careless speech of her childhood in the mountains of West Virginia, her usual speech was very correct, something she had forced herself to do, in order that Barbara would learn to speak well as a little girl, and now it had become a habit, and indeed Barbara's speech was, like that of Gena, excellent. Her grammar was perfect, and her pronunciation careful. With her reading, her vocabulary was expanding rapidly, and Barb and Gena were a good influence on each other.

Helen talked it over with Penny and Michelle, and decided that she would begin very carefully using the weights, to slow down the rate at which she was gaining weight.

"What are we going to do, once you start showing?" they asked Helen. Helen said she didn't know. This being under cover was hard on all of them, and they could see no end to it. Helen longed to make a clean breast of it to Carol, who was their biggest friend in their locality, except that she was certain that Carol's code of ethics could not accommodate their situation. She would insist that Helen turned herself in, and that they fought the custody battle head on, which Helen was equally certain they would lose. There were now, in addition to posters with Helen's and Gena's face on them, posters showing Michelle as well, as wanted by the FBI for questioning. Helen's face was greatly changed, and she was practically unrecognizable from the photograph. But Michelle had only dyed her hair brown, and grown it a little longer than she had worn it as a model.

They puzzled over the problem for weeks, while Helen's weight distribution began to become increasingly troublesome. But she was putting on muscle on her arms and shoulders, because of the training with the barbells, and her legs were becoming somewhat muscular as well.

# Paula

Penny and Michelle came up with a brilliant plan.

First, Michelle would apply to waitress in Steve's place. It was getting to the point where Steve was too out of shape to work so late.

Then, Steve would tell Carol that she had a sister, Paula, who was pregnant, and who wanted to have her baby out here in California, for various reasons. The reasons were not to be spelled out, but any woman would understand that, under certain circumstances, a woman could want to have her baby out of sight of her friends and family. So Steve would go out, to look after Paula's older kids, while Paula came out to California by bus, to live with Michelle and Penny, until the delivery was completed.

Michelle was hired, on trial, just as Helen had been, and Carol and Barbara bought the story about Paula. Leaving the truck with Michelle and Penny, Helen (Steve), was taken out, with a suitcase, to the Greyhound station and dropped off. Helen took the Greyhound out to Los Angeles, where she was met by Marsha Moore, in disguise, and taken to her fabulous Bel Air home.

Marsha Moore had loved Helen for more than a decade, and now she took this opportunity to learn all about what had been going on. Helen gave her a full report, after which Marsha allowed her to rest, and pamper herself with a luxurious bath. The following day, Helen's hair was dyed a deep auburn, and an auburn wig was attached firmly to her scalp, using surgical staples.

"You look terrible," was Marsha's opinion. Helen was appalled, because Marsha was seldom so uncomplimentary to anyone. "I mean, all the muscle is in the wrong places. You look like a guy with a pot, rather than a pregnant woman!"

Helen shrugged. What could she do? "I've been working out," she said, looking defensive.

"I think, if you just stick to walking, and eating what you like, normally—I mean, I don't know; people tell me—pregnant women tend to eat what's best for the baby, you know?"

"I know some girls who smoked. Not all of them eat right, I'm sure."

"Well, have you got any ideas?"

Helen shook her head. Now she had to _lose_ a whole lot of muscle, when she should be gaining weight carefully. In the end, they decided to do nothing, but dress Helen in baggy clothes, and put makeup on her to look a little different, especially changing the shape of her eyebrows.

Marsha hated to let Helen go, and Helen could only give her a rueful smile. They hugged; Marsha was not the type to turn her back on anyone, nor was Helen. When Marsha dropped Helen and a new bag of maternal clothes and supplies off in downtown Los Angeles, both of them were feeling tearful.

It was late the following afternoon when Helen, now calling herself Paula Johnson, stepped off the bus in the Southern California town in which Penny and Michelle and the kids had their home. Helen had had to change buses several times, and the last bus was from a marginal local bus line that serviced only their little locality, and Helen/Paula was exhausted. Carol, Penny, Michelle, and all the kids were there to greet her, including Barbara.

Somehow, Helen looked smaller, and rosy-cheeked, and sweet-faced, and simply more feminine, and Carol and Barbara had not the slightest inkling that this was simply Steve, wearing a dress. Of course, she wore just a bit of makeup, which certainly helped, and Helen knew how to wear a dress, and she had shaved her legs, and worn very slight heels, in contrast to the cowboy-style boots she had worn a lot of the time as Steve. But most of all, Marsha had made her feel like a woman again, which would normally have happened sooner or later, but it had happened all at once, with Marsha.

Back at the house, there was a big party, with food Carol and Barbara, and Penny and Michelle, had separately prepared. Even Gena and Erin had made brownies, which were eaten with great pleasure by all. The big problem had been Alison, who Helen had expected to welcome her with a huge cry of _Mama_ , as she was wont to do. But when she had seen Helen, she had been in Penny's arms, and Helen had gone to her _after_ her welcoming yell, and it had seemed as though she had said _Mama_ to Penny. "Oh, little Allie! Come and give me a hug!" Helen had cried, and Allie, confused by Helen's 'new' soprano voice, had not said anything.

Helen had been duly introduced to Carol and Barbara, and by simply showing more warmth than she had as 'Steve', she had been able to appear so different from the latter that neither of them suspected that Steve and Paula were one and the same, despite their definite similarity of face.

Life settled down to the new routine. Helen stayed home, and took over the schooling of the children. Somehow, she found new resources of energy to engage with them, and went out to the local library, and obtained maps and resources, and with the help of a photocopier, made worksheets for the girls, and soon had them coloring maps, and identifying states, and filling in the names of state capitals, (some of which surprised the adults in the home as well,) and, not least, began to teach Gena the keyboard more aggressively. She had slowed down the music lessons once she had started working at the construction site, but now Erin and Gena worked a little bit at the 'piano' every day, for a little over half an hour each, but that was all. "That's enough, girls," 'Aunt' Paula told them (though, of course, they knew exactly who she was), "an hour a week is plenty. You should practice a little every day, though."

"Miss, Helen, I want to learn faster!" said Erin, quietly to Helen, one afternoon.

Helen smiled at her, and pulled her into a hug. Erin was such a sweet child, Helen loved her dearly. "Come," she said, "you can do a little extra theory, how's that?" and Erin nodded. Of course, Gena wanted to do some, too.

Barbara came to visit, and Helen found herself sitting on the front steps with her, with no one else around. Barbara and 'Steve' had treasured these private moments together, and everyone kept out of their way.

"Miss Paula, I really loved your brother, Steve!"

"I know... He's great, isn't he?"

"Yes!" There was an awkward pause. Then Barbara said in a quiet voice, "I was in love with him, you know."

Helen kept quiet, feeling really peculiar. It seemed so strange to have to listen to this confession; Helen did not want to sympathize, and encourage the young woman in her infatuation, but it seemed dishonest to simply dismiss her feelings as wrong, or irrelevant, or immature, or immoral, or any number of things.

"Breaking up a family is something that causes a lot of unhappiness, dear; you have to balance your wanting to be happy, with how badly Steve, and Penny, and the little girls will suffer."

"No... I already decided that I wouldn't do anything to, you know? Break them up. But I can't help loving him!"

"Well, why not? Love isn't wrong; it's insisting on _rights_ that's hurtful. Love doesn't give you rights; love only gives you responsibilities. When you love someone, that's one more person about whose well-being you have to worry. You know? Oh, I shouldn't lay these... complicated ideas on you, sweetheart; you're too young to have to be worrying about things like that." It seemed easier to address these issues as a woman, than it had been as a man. Steve, with Barbara, had spent more time listening to the kid than talking to her. But now, Paula found new courage to make demands of the young woman.

"Oh, Miss Paula... I understand perfectly!" Helen was rewarded with a sweet smile by the affectionate young woman. "Can I give you a hug? I don't feel as bad to hug you as, you know, to..."

"Oh, sure! Come here!" Helen enfolded her in a gentle hug. Her newly liberated breasts were happy to be supported by a bra, and though they were the same breasts that had pressed against Barb only days before, Barb had completely different feelings with this hug. There was none of the guilt, but rather a lot of satisfaction.

Michelle worked hard until midnight every day except Monday, and the people at the restaurant liked her very much. She came from a very wealthy family, and she had never worked at all, all through her teen years; she had been given all the money she needed. But she was enjoying the work of waiting tables, and the interaction with the customers. Luckily, being of such a retiring disposition, she never attracted the sort of hurtful remarks that customers sometimes hurled at their waitresses. She paid attention, and got her orders served as promptly as she could, and both customers, and management, and her fellow-waitresses liked her very much.

Penny had started teaching at the Sunday-School of a church nearby. She was a religious woman, even if she did not believe in any of the miracles and other events in the Bible, and dismissed them as 'mere superstition.' And she occasionally attended church, too, after Sunday-School, and took Erin and Gena with her. After a couple of Sundays, they came home and complained that the music in the church was "Terrible". So Paula got dragged into church, to help with the music.

Helen said she would play the organ, which was a modest little electric organ, but she refused any duties that had to do with the choir, or any sort of teaching. "First of all, I'm pretty thoroughly pregnant, as you can see," she said to the minister, who grinned and nodded, "and secondly, I don't want to be out of the house more than just once a week!"

Penny was disappointed, but she was pleased that Helen would at least play for service on Sundays. "I will take charge of the choir," she said, completely surprising Helen.

Once they were home, she deplored the fact that Helen had been so firm in her refusal.

"But Penny, what if someone recognizes me?"

"Nobody is going to recognize you! You look completely different!"

"Well, no, but if I start training a choir, it'll be a whole different story!"

Penny had to agree. It was too much of a risk.

So, to everyone's amusement, Penny took over the responsibility for the choir, which meant that she had to get a service of Christmas Carols ready for the holidays. Helen did help her, and they put together a set of lovely, but not too demanding carols that everybody liked, given that there was not a lot of musical expertise in this particular congregation. Gena and Erin provided a large part of the singing talent, but their presence in the choir on Sundays attracted other young people, who had kept away simply because it had seemed such a lost cause. So the choir gradually grew into a modest affair of about twenty people, including about a dozen very young folk and teenagers, all of whom loved Penny to pieces. Penny was turning out into a talented and charismatic choir director, who found reliable assistants in the form of Erin and Gena, who by now were able to follow a line of music, and help the guys learn their parts.

Though, for reasons of safety, Helen had refused to participate in the choir, she longed to sing, and fairly soon began singing at home. She dared not sing the classical repertoire, but she sang folk songs, and Michelle having found an inexpensive guitar for her, Helen began to sing the folk songs she had neglected for so long. She had always sung folk songs, accompanied by the guitar or an autoharp, but since she had started graduate school she had not touched either instrument, except one time at the Friends' School, when she had been invited to give a recital to Gena's class.

After talking it over, Helen, Michelle and Penny decided that it was time Helen visited a gynecologist.

After Helen had recounted her medical history, including the history of Helen's pregnancies, and it had all been carefully recorded, somehow the gynecologist, Dr. Reynolds, recognized Helen. After a brief moment of panic, it turned out that the gynecologist was sympathetic to Helen's situation, and in fact very angry with the officials who had conspired to separate Helen from the children. Dr. Reynolds was a loyal admirer of Helen, and said she would obtain the records of Helen's most recent pregnancy, which had been while Helen was living with Marsha Moore, and which had terminated in a miscarriage at a hospital in Los Angeles. She also said that Helen was in wonderful shape, this time around, and was probably due in January, most likely the last week. Helen was coming along very nicely.

Helen got a lot of satisfaction with Allie. The little girl was fascinating; sometimes she'd play by herself for hours, talking to herself or to her dolls, which were odds and ends, like rocks, and doorstops. Other times, she'd look for Helen and ask her questions. She was talking now, in complete sentences. They had a few tropical fish in a bowl, and she wanted to take them out. "I want to see, Mama," she said. "I want to _talk_ to them. They can't hear in the water!" Helen tried to explain, but Allie wasn't convinced. Finally Helen had to lay down the law, and tell her to simply leave the fish alone. Allie studied Helen carefully, and went off to look at something else.

# Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving came, and the Johnsons and the Cromacks joined together for one of the merriest Thanksgivings they could remember. There were many awkward questions about Steve, and what was he doing, to which they had to invent plausible responses, but as a meal, it was a roaring success. Barbara still pined for Steve privately with Paula, but it seemed as though the memory of Steve had become more of an abstract thing. Paula occasionally got the impression that Barbara was considering herself as something of a martyr, for having renounced her love for Steve.

Some two thousand miles to the East, a pretty collie was wagging her tail, as Lorna served her a bowl of expensive dog food. "Eat up, girl," she was saying, "no point in sulking forever!" She was dressed beautifully, in a maroon gown, and wore the beautiful bracelets Becky had bought her, as well as a lovely chain, with a nice big pendant.

A few days earlier, she had visited the Nordstrom home, taken in the mail, and sorted it into piles: one containing letters to Helen from unknown admirers, one containing letters from the University, one consisting of bills, all of which were paid automatically, but of course the bills still came in the mail. Lalitha and Anselm (a member of the Impromptu Ensemble) had taken charge of the workshop, and were working on projects as best as they could.

The little Kansas farm in which Helen had grown up, and in which her father John, his wife Annie, and Annie's two children Bo and Little John lived, now had a new farmhouse. There had been a large fire the previous summer, and Helen had flown over, and completely rebuilt it. But Thanksgiving was a somber affair, with Helen gone underground. "Why doesn't she come _home?"_ John Nordstrom asked everyone, but they knew the answer. Shortly afterwards, they actually had a visit from the FBI, who sorrowfully told him that they expected to be informed if Helen showed up for the holiday. "She won't be harmed, sir, but those kids don't belong with her." John Nordstrom had kept silent, and they had gone away. If they expected him to cooperate, they were out of their minds, he thought. On Thanksgiving Day, Annie, Helen's friend and classmate, who had married her father, was in tears, and John and Little John looked at her sorrowfully. Then, suddenly, John Nordstrom clutched his chest, staggered, and fell.

Marika and Lisa were at the Johnsons' for Thanksgiving, and were trying to explain to Grandpa Johnson that Helen was on the run. How can she support herself? What about the kids' school? Marika said she didn't know; if they would only call off the search, Helen would come in, and the kids could go back to school.

Helen, by now, had lost most of her hard muscle, and was looking like a fairly typical pregnant woman. Her breasts were still not engorged, but they were getting just a little heavier, and she had to wear a larger size of bra. She absolutely wallowed in the attention and all the fussing of the other women, not least, Carol, who had taken a firm liking to this sister of Steve's.

Playing the little organ at the weekly services at the church provided an outlet for Helen's need to perform in front of an audience, but she was careful not to play pieces of such a high quality that her cover would be blown. They had spread the word that she was a music teacher by trade, but though there were numerous requests for Paula to teach various young people the piano (or the violin, which Penny had let drop was Paula's instrument), Helen steadily refused to take on any pupils.

At the last minute, the minister asked Paula to read one of the lessons for the Carols: the one about the Annunciation. Helen agreed; she had just about had it with doing nothing but accompanying the choir. She longed to sing, but reading a lesson would come close. Soon after that request, they had set off for home, with Helen on cloud nine. "Someone is happy, she gets to do one of the readings! _Yee hoo!"_ crowed Gena, while Helen tried to smack her, grinning from ear to ear. Helen's delight was clear to all of them.

Helen didn't realize this, but that December marked the absolute height of Helen's beauty. She was radiant, with an inner glow that drew all eyes, and made men and women alike stare at her in wonder. But she was turned inward, to the mysterious being who occupied her womb.

Penny, too, had slimmed down, and seemed softer, and more curvaceous than when they had first met.

"Penny, you're very pretty; I don't think I've told you that enough!"

Penny blushed, a pretty sight. Helen realized that she and Penny would never part, no matter how things developed between Helen and anybody else. There was no possibility of jealousy or deceit. They had only promised to stay together as an arrangement of convenience.

"If anything happens to me," Penny asked, seriously, "please look after Erin?"

Helen paused what she was doing, which was tenderly stroking Penny.

"What's going to happen to you?"

"No, it's not like that, I mean—I don't have any folks, so... like, you're my folks, Miss Helen."

Helen was taken aback; this was nothing she did not know, but she was still startled by how explicitly Penny had stated her feelings. She squeezed Penny tight, making her breathless. She hugged Helen, pleased with Helen's response.

"You should know by now, Penny... Of _course;_ she's half mine already."

"Isn't life strange?" Penny said, presently.

"It sure is!"

The following Sunday was the first Sunday in December, and was the date of the Carols for which Penny, Gena and Erin had so patiently prepared. Everybody was quite ready, since the carols were not very demanding, but the choir was thoroughly enjoying them anyway. On the previous evening, they had had their last big rehearsal with the organ and everything, and they ran through the entire service for Helen's benefit, to see if there were any major omissions or errors, and there were none.

On Sunday night, they all drove out to the church, including Carol and Barbara, who kept a seat for Helen. Penny had found another woman from somewhere who was a professional organist, and Helen could sit with the family, and sing with the congregation, which was what she wanted to do.

Despite Helen's frustration with the simplicity of the carols Penny had chosen, it was turning out perfectly. Penny looked perfect, in her understated, simple dark dress, and her movements were clear and economical, and the choir followed her closely. Helen was proud of her, as proud as she was of Gena and Erin. Next to her, Barb squeezed her hand, something that she did often.

Then Helen had to come out of her cloud to read her lesson.

"And in the Eighth Month..." Helen read slowly and clearly, and held every eye and ear. There was an art to reading, and Helen had it in good measure. And she loved this passage, which described the young Mary, and so skillfully explored the thinking of a First Century teenager. Helen looked over the audience, and concluded the lesson, and she looked like the angel and the virgin combined, with the radiance of the mother-to-be, and the unbearable beauty of the messenger.

She walked deliberately back to her seat, feeling a little light-headed.

"You were super!" whispered Barb, as Helen joined them, and Allie held out her arms to Helen, and the choir stood for their carol. Gena was giving Helen a thumbs-up sign, and waggling her eyebrows at her mother, and Erin was smiling her characteristic smile. Tears came to Helen, and Barb gave her a tissue, looking concerned.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing! I'm just happy!"

"Aww!"

So the carols went; it was a total triumph. Afterwards, Helen hugged Penny and Michelle, and told them she had loved every minute of it so much that she had cried. "Buckets and buckets!" said Barbara.

"We sang like crazy for the congregation carols," Barb declared, and said, of Helen, "She sings good!"

"Allie sang too; didn't you, sweetie!"

"Uh-huh! I was singing!" said Allie.

The minister thanked Paula after the service, and she accepted his thanks graciously and with due humility, and they went home.

After the excitement of the Carol Service, Helen was finding life very dull. Cut off from the world in which she belonged, already at 36 an important person, admired and respected by the music world, she was now living in a world populated only by her little artificial family, and a few friends. There was the TV, a small stereo, the keyboard, and that was all.

# The Helen Net

The following Saturday, Marika and Lisa arrived in a rented car, and after Gena and Allie had greeted her with delighted hugs, Marika was introduced to Erin once again, and Michelle.

"My god, you look very pregnant!"

"Yup! February!"

"Oh, you look so _cute!"_

"So do you both! How are things with you?"

"Pretty good! Business is slow, but we get a few jobs! Helen, your dad is sick."

Helen's eyes grew wide. "What's wrong?"

"He had a heart attack on Thanksgiving."

"Oh god!"

"He's all right. I didn't tell you, but he'd been upset ever since you disappeared. Annie's a wreck."

"Poor thing... She's all he has, except for the kids."

"No, about _you_ , stupid. She's been crying!"

"Aww. Tell her I'm OK, guys. Spread the word! I'm fine, we're all fine, me and the kids, and Michelle. She misses the dog, though."

Marika and Lisa looked at each other. "If we bring her out here, you guys could come by and steal her!"

Helen shook her head. That would give them away.

Ever since Marika had first met and spoken to Helen after they had gone underground, she had informed a few selected friends that Helen had been found, and was well and comfortable.

The idea of appealing Helen's case was gaining ground. Somehow the rumor had spread that Helen was hiding in Mexico, and there had been photos circulated of Helen performing in Mexico City, which had confused Helen, but it had been a fake, with a ringer, just to confuse the opposition. Now Marika and Lisa revealed that a special group had been formed, for the express purpose of helping Helen gain custody of Gena and Alison, and help her obtain expert legal advice. "They're getting laws passed all over the place!" Lisa said, excitedly, looking at Helen and Michelle, who were amazed, and looked it. "They even have a name," said Lisa. "It's now called the _Helen Net!_ If you get a chance, you should go check it out!"

# The Galaxy Show

Another interesting piece of news was _The Galaxy Show_. This was a new TV series that had taken off over the summer, with a very popular pilot episode. The idea of the show was that sometime in the future, the idea of sending a large, manned space vessel off gains a great deal of popular support, and over more than a year, such a vessel is built. It is so large that it cannot be built on the ground and then lifted into space, and so it has to be built in practically zero gravity, in Moon orbit. The spaceship is named _The Galactic Voyager_ , and is to be sent out with a large complement of colonists, numbering several hundreds. About 50 of them would be the actual crew, who run the ship, and would be trained specialists. The rest would be colonists, selected from all nations and ethnicities, to be widely representative of Earth society.

"It's awesome; you would love it! They've begun regular shows this fall. It's all about education, and art and music and dance; they have ideas very similar to yours. They think that everyone should be taught music and art, and that it would contribute to, like, world peace, and stuff. _You_ know!"

" _World peace and stuff?_ Why'm _I_ supposed to be more about world peace than anybody else? Anyone in their _right mind should_ be all for world peace!"

"Oh, Helen, you know what I mean. It's about thinking that art is essential, not an extra. You've talked about this forever. Anyway, guess what! They're planning to put a character in the show that's sort of you, in disguise!"

Helen was taken by surprise. She demanded more information, and it turned out that it was a person who was going to be an all-round, multi-talented woman, a musician, a dancer, a singer, an artist, in short someone who did everything, just as Helen did. And the reason she had not yet appeared on the show was interesting.

"See, she's been put in hibernation. That's like, she's _frozen_ , you know? And they're going to thaw her out sometime in the New Year, because, well, it's complicated!"

And most interestingly, the producers had given a press conference, and declared that trying to keep Helen Nordstrom and her kids apart was completely wrong, and that Helen was not merely a national resource, but a _world resource_.

" _Me?"_ Marika and Lisa nodded, grinning, amused at the way Helen was blushing.

One day, the local TV station decided to air all the episodes of the Galaxy Show, as they had begun to call the _Galactic Voyager._ Penny had remembered that it was going to take place, and they sat down to watch. The second set of shows depicted the steady running of the daily lives of the travelers, establishing routines, schools, cultural activities, and scientific activities, gradually introducing ideas and characters to the audience.

The third set of programs depicted remote studies of star systems from the ship, using robot probes, looking for inhabitable planets, or just studying interesting systems. Then came a sequence of shows that dealt with crises, social and inter-personal, and how the ship's personnel handled them, and then came the shock. On one episode, the producer appeared to say that they deplored the way Helen Nordstrom was being hunted, that the cast and crew dedicated the show to Helen and her adopted children!

They had been warned that such a statement had been made, but the reality was still stunning.

"Did I just imagine that?"

"You didn't! Cool, Mom!"

"Do you _know_ these people?" Michelle wanted to know.

"No!"

The episode was cleverly about a conservative couple who was trying to get the ship's authorities to remove a girl from the care of her lesbian parents. At the end of the episode, there was a disguised message from the producers, a sort of 'Hang in there!'

Then, to Helen's surprise, all the episodes that followed had subtle references to Helen in them. A few episodes later, references began to a character called Cecilia Yorke, who was in hibernation. After these episodes, Helen knew that she had friends out there whom she didn't even know, who were rooting for her.

[Update: OK, I've discovered sheets of manuscript of this part, so it's going to be a little more detailed. I am abbreviating, because it is just a little too verbose. When I come to the end of the stuff I found, I'll go back to reported style.]

# Messiah

A couple of days later, they were surprised with a call from Marika.

"Paula?"

"Hi, Marika! Happy Holidays, and all that! What's up?"

Marika sounded excited. "I thought you must be wanting to sing real bad, by now!"

"Oh!" Helen smiled. "I sing quietly at home, in the shower... I dare not sing outside! Yeah; I'd love to simply let go..."

"Despair no more! Your fairy godmother has heard your wish!"

"It isn't _that_ bad..."

"I'm going to kidnap you for a few hours! Be ready; I'm picking you up at 5!"

It was 4:30. Marika would say no more. Penny helped Helen into a pretty maroon dress. They had even bought black hose that Helen could wear over her ample belly. Helen hated to look at herself while she dressed, but after her dress was on, she was usually pleased with herself. The bodice had ample room for her swelling breasts, and the flared skirt draped nicely over her belly, and she looked motherly and grand, rather than shapeless and clumsy. Helen smiled at the green-eyed girl in the mirror, whose curly brown hair was pulled back into a tidy roll. Her full lips were naturally rosy, her merry eyes twinkled, and her cheeks glowed with the flush of pregnancy.

There was a bit of racket out in front, and Gena marched in to say Aunt Marika was in the house, and Marika followed close behind, looking glorious in a green dress. She had a brown wig on, and looked a very pretty brunette. They were hugging and kissing, while Gena watched them and giggled.

They were soon in Marika's rented car, flying north at breakneck speed. "Where are we going?"

"A Messiah sing-along!"

"Oh, Marika... I couldn't."

"Yes. We're singing Alto! They'll never spot us."

"Are they looking for me?"

"Yes. I know they're looking for you near the old house, in Gully Lane. Your and Michelle's pictures are being shown on local TV. The photos are old ones, and honestly, no one could tell in a million years that you're the girl in the photo!"

"Yeah... I'm fat, I know."

"No, it's the face. You're cheeky."

" _Cheeky?"_

They rented the music, and sat with the altos, and sang their hearts out. The women seated near them quickly learned that the two tall brunettes knew the work inside and out, and followed them.

Helen was astounded that she was such an excellent alto; her voice had dropped considerably. She had enjoyed singing the first chorus, where the altos led off.

They sang all the main numbers, down to the great Amen, and then to satisfy the audience clamoring for more, the enthusiastic orchestra and conductor led them through five fairly difficult Christmas Carols, and Helen and Marika sang their fill, and looked around, slightly breathlessly, at the happy faces surrounding them.

"You two know your _Messiah_ , all right!"

"Thanks! So do you!"

"I mean, you _really_ know it!!"

"Oh yes. We sang it in College."

"Ah! Where was that?"

"Ohio State," said Helen and Marika, together.

They decided to have a cup of coffee, as they were passing the restaurant where Michelle was waitressing. The hostess stared at Helen, and she explained, with a grin, that she was Steve's sister, Paula. "That's right! I couldn't figure it out!"

Michelle was pleasantly surprised. Helen fell in love all over again; Michelle was so beautiful. It has been a slow process; Michelle had at first been company, that was all, a familiar face, and, to be honest, someone with whom to console herself with sex, when Helen had been left all alone. But from the moment Michelle had offered to take poison with her, something had begun to change.

"May I bring you something to drink? We have some non-alcoholic selections for the mother-to-be..."

The girls giggled, and ordered non-alcoholic egg-nog. (Marika had stopped drinking alcohol after she and Lisa had gotten together, because Lisa had been a hardened alcoholic, and was now totally dry.)

Michelle —who was calling herself _Francesca_ , or Frankie— came back with their glasses of egg-nog, and went round her tables. It was a busy night, but by 9:30, the crowd was thinning out.

Twenty minutes later, Michelle came to their table, and served them coffee, which they had not ordered, and left her truck keys with Helen.

"What... Frankie?" Helen looked at Michelle in puzzlement, and saw fear and shock, though well-disguised. "Have you been fired? What happened?" Helen asked quietly.

"There's two FBI agents at the back."

"Oh God, have they spotted me?"

"No... just me."

Helen's heart beat as if it would explode. Then, suddenly, she was calm. She got up, and walked to the back.

"Paula, _wait!_ Come here... Paula, sit down," Michelle said calmly, and firmly. But Helen was gone, all the way to the kitchen, and she saw the two men at the back door, and a woman, at the entrance to a back hallway.

She walked to the men.

"All right; take me. Here I am."

The men sighed. "It's all right, miss, calm down. There's nothing to be upset about."

"I am calm. I'm not upset; not too much, anyway."

"What do you want, lady?"

"Let her go, take me! What has she done?"

A firm note crept into the man's voice, as he prepared to firmly put Helen in her place. Behind Helen, Marika appeared, and softly held her arm.

"Come away, Paula; you can't help." Marika looked at the FBI agents and smiled. "She's very fond of Frankie..."

Helen shook off Marika's hand. "Are you people insane? What has she done? What good will this do?" She was on the brink of tears. "Please, let her go. She's innocent!" She spoke softly, persuasively. "Listen: you'll destroy her. She'll never be any use to you. She's stubborn... look, I'm pregnant, you'll have to be careful with me. I'll come with you!"

The woman agent came up and spoke, smiling warmly. "She won't be mistreated, Ma'am. It's only for questioning. She's an important person. We don't torture people, you know!"

They were all kind to Helen. Before she knew what was happening, she was bundled out of the kitchen, and out of the restaurant, into the parking lot. Marika was helping her into the truck, asking her to drive straight home and wait there. There were two cars full of agents, watching the doors of the restaurant, and Marika was getting into her Audi. _They didn't know who I was,_ Helen thought, stunned. She had turned herself in, but they had sent her on her way.

Seconds later, Helen was driving out of the parking lot, round the block, and into a parking lot across the street. She hadn't been noticed. Marika was gone. Helen was sitting in the one piece of evidence that could lead the FBI to the house. Neither she nor Michelle had given the restaurant their address; only their phone numbers. Michelle came out in handcuffs. Helen cried softly.

The children!

Taking a long, roundabout route, Helen got home.

"They've taken Michelle!" she said to the four anxious faces.

# Running

The woman, a tall Latina, was firm with Michelle, but kind. Michelle had not said a word.

"They seem to like you back at the restaurant, Miss Smith!" Michelle nodded. "You can talk, you know; we don't bite!" Michelle nodded. The woman sighed.

"That pregnant one was _nuts,_ " one of the men said, chuckling. Michelle felt faint. It was incredible that Helen had gotten away.

"Oh my god... you know who that was?" The driver was looking out the window to make a U-turn.

"Who?"

"The one with the pregnant woman!"

" _Who?"_

" _Nordstrom! That was her! That was Helen!"_

"Is that true? Miss Smith: was that Helen Nordstrom?"

It took a few seconds for Michelle to realize that the FBI agent had thought that _Marika_ was Helen. None of them had identified "Paula" as anyone they wanted to apprehend!

Michelle hunched over, not responding. She would be dumb, _dumb_. She would not say a single word.

They were snarling traffic as they put their beacons and siren on, and were presently racing back to the restaurant. Everyone was outside in the December chill, trying to figure what was up.

One of the officers ran inside, while the other inspected the parking-lot and the customers gathered there. But the women they were looking for were conspicuous by their absence. Inquiries inside revealed that they only had a phone number for Frankie. The third woman was a stranger. Michelle, of course, refused to tell them where she lived, even after a little verbal bullying. But the phone number Michelle had given had been the house phone—at that time there still were land lines in every home—and by the time they traced the address associated with the phone number and gone to the house, the occupants had long gone. There were signs of a hurried departure, but they had taken everything.

The five of them—Marika had gone home—were in Alyssa's pool house annex. Alyssa's friends were gone for the holidays, and she had been on the point of departing for the family home in Glendale, when Helen, Penny and the gang had showed up. At least in the Annex, they had some privacy.

They sat on the rug, Allie in Helen's lap, Erin and Gena on either side, and Penny next to her daughter. The truck was parked near a grocery store some blocks away. All their belongings filled the tiny annex. Alyssa had received them warmly. She had offered to postpone her departure.

"No, what's the use? I'll leave the keys..."

"Oh, don't worry, Bonita," she said. She always called Helen _Bonita_ , which meant something like 'cutie' in Spanish.

"I keep asking for help, and you keep giving it!"

"It's nobody's fault, Bonita; you only need time until it's all straightened out. You are not a monster. This can't go on forever."

Helen looked at Gena. "Maybe we should turn ourselves in," she said quietly. "Running, hiding... it's stupid."

"No! _Mom!_... We're a team. We'll be fine!"

"But... what about school? What kind of life is this?" Helen's tears began to flow.

Gena put her arms around Helen and her sister, and then stretched to include Erin, too. "As long as we're together, it's a _super_ life, Mom! This year has been the best, totally! I got to do everything, Allie's happy..."

"Miss Helen, we'll be fine."

Over the next two days, Penny withdrew all the money in her bank account, and gave it to Alyssa. Alyssa bought them a used minivan, and they packed it up, and got ready to travel, and Alyssa hugged each of them, and set out for LA.

But where would they go? Helen and Penny had spent all day, doing laundry, preparing snacks for the road, and Thermos bottles full of coffee. Allie had been fretful all day, but Gena and Erin had been perfect.

Helen sat at the table, holding her head. "What's happening to Michelle?" Penny felt sorry.

"Call Aunt Marika!" Gena suggested.

"No! No, they'll be listening on her line, I'm sure of it."

"Well, wait until she calls, then. She'll call today."

Marika called around three in the afternoon.

"They put her in the house on Gully Lane," she said. "She refused to cooperate; so they're trying to think of something to twist her arm."

"Oh Jeeze; will they hurt her?" Helen asked at once.

"Are you nuts? She's at most been accused of contempt of court, or may be accessory to kidnapping, but they don't have any evidence yet! Relax, Helen, they're not going to hurt her!"

"How did you find out all this?"

"The _Helen Net!_ Remember? I keep telling you!"

Helen let out a sigh of impatience, and said she didn't know where to go. "I feel like turning myself in."

Marika cursed, and so did Gena. " _Mom!_ The whole point is to _stay together!"_

"Hey, Helen, go home, go to my Mom's house. She'll look after you."

"They'll look for me there," Helen said, bitterly.

"Well, Sam knows someone in the local FBI office. I'll find out whether they're under surveillance. Listen..."

It was a simple plan. Helen and company would head up to the Twin Cities, and meanwhile, Marika would find out whether it was safe to go into the Johnson's home in the suburbs of St Paul.

Penny took the wheel. The old minivan rolled out, and they slowly got on the highway, headed north.

It was acutely uncomfortable to wear the seatbelt, but Helen did, as an example for the older kids. Allie sat behind Penny in her child seat, and watched Erin and Gena play a board game. They played for a while, and fell asleep.

"How're you feeling?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"I'm fine, Miss Helen. Just relax and sleep; I'll get us there, don't you worry. We'll take I15 to Salt Lake City..."

They made frequent potty breaks, for the benefit of the kids. They constantly snacked, and drank. Helen took over the driving, while Penny passed out the evening meal. The girls sang, and gradually Helen began to relax, and enjoy the drive. She had completely forgotten that she didn't have a license, but luckily for them, nothing happened.

Penny often stole glances at the face of her beloved mistress. She could read the emotions there with great skill, by now. She could tell when Helen was at peace, or when she was lost in some deep plan, probably some idea to do with music; then in a happy memory, perhaps of Christmases in the past. Then some sad thought would make Helen almost cry, and Penny steeled herself for the outburst that would surely come.

"Why do they hate me so much," Helen murmured. Tears filled her eyes, but didn't fall. "I can't keep fighting like this!"

"It isn't fighting, Miss Helen; we simply go to ground."

"But see, they've taken Michelle..." A tear fell, and she dashed it away impatiently. A convoy of trucks were passing them, and she was fighting to keep the minivan stable against the turbulent bow-wave of the trucks.

Their special cell-phone rang, and Penny answered. It was Sam, Marika's brother.

"It's perfectly safe," he said. "Camp somewhere near Denver, like Estes Park; I know they have cabins there. Stay in a cabin; we'll see you tomorrow!"

Helen took a deep breath, and agreed. "That should be OK," she said.

The kids thoroughly enjoyed themselves at the campground. After they were in their sleeping-bags, Penny tended to Helen. "Turn that way," she said, and when Helen complied, she began to knead Helen's aching shoulders. As her tension melted away, she quietly slipped into sleep.

The next morning, Helen woke early, and started on a nice big breakfast. Penny liked bacon and eggs, like Helen, though the children were beginning to show a preference for cereal. The smell of frying bacon woke Penny, who anxiously hurried over and began to fuss.

"You should be in bed, at this hour! Just leave it; I'll do the eggs. Go on, now!"

"Relax, Penny; go get ready. I'm fixing breakfast."

Helen was pleased with how it turned out. Somehow, the best meals she ever made seemed to have turned out over a camp stove. The girls woke up, and there was a happy holiday atmosphere. All round the campground, carols and holiday tunes with ting-a-ling-a-lings and ho-ho-hos pealed from the PA system. Helen would never dream of playing these at home, but she enjoyed them all the same. She thought wistfully of all the CDs in her collection in Philadelphia, and sighed.

They were back on the road by seven. The girls were in great spirits, and Helen was careful to keep her anxiety about Michelle covered up. It was like a dream. The older girls made lots of friends wherever they stopped. Pretty women hurried over to talk to Helen, and talk about how lovely she looked, and how her pregnancy was coming along. Total strangers hugged Helen, and kissed her, just because she looked so cute!

By sundown, they were in Nebraska, but they labored on. It was almost eleven before they were in Minnesota, in a heavy snowstorm. The girls looked out through the windows, in amazement at the snow. Visibility was down to about 20 yards. Penny gave the wheel to Helen, and Helen drove steadily at about 30 mph, while big rigs passed them all the time, showering them with grimy, salt-laden slush. Then the lights of the Twin Cities made it a little easier to drive. The roads were a little better, due to new construction, and Helen got to the rendezvous around two in the morning.

Helen peered through the dirty windshield; the wiper fluid was long gone. "Wow, I think that's Sam. It is! He's been waiting out here, in the cold! Oh goodness..."

_Out here_ was a church near a small shopping strip. Helen parked, and walked over to Sam's car. Seeing Helen, he got out in a hurry. "What are you doing, walking around in this weather?!"

"Merry Christmas!" Helen grinned and gave Sam a big hug.

Sam quickly got all of them out of the filthy old minivan, and into an all-night diner, and presently they were tucking in, hungrily. "It's a crime," he exclaimed, "the house is full of all sorts of food, but you probably can't wait another twenty minutes until we get there!" Gena and Erin shook their heads, their mouths full. Helen introduced them all to Sam. "Penny is a special friend who's been looking after us for six months."

"Welcome, Penny, and thanks!"

They exchanged news, and Sam got them settled in a nice motel close by. It seemed that their days of desperate running were temporarily over.

# Minnesota

Sam came to pick them up late the following morning. It was just a couple of days until Christmas, and the Johnson clan, an enormous family of almost a dozen men and women, including Marika and Sam, of course, were dying to see Helen, and they knew fairly certainly that the house was not being watched; in fact, it appeared that the FBI was not aware that Helen was related to them in any way. The Kansas farm, however, was under surveillance, but Helen had not gone anywhere near it (except that they had driven through Kansas on the way West).

The two youngest in the Johnson family were Marika, and Heikki. They were both younger than Helen—Heikki was in her mid-twenties—but most interestingly, both girls looked a lot like Helen. Marika looked very much like Helen, except that she was a little heavier, and more round-face, but Heikki looked just like Helen had looked about five years earlier.

Heikki took the little family under her wing, and got them settled in a lovely old house about twenty miles north of the Twin City and its suburbs, in a tiny village called Ferguson's Creek. It was quite a large cottage, with a modern kitchen, and with three bedrooms, just perfect for the little family. Heikki had bought it the year before, but it was too far from the city, where she was a successful fashion designer, and where she lived in a comfortable studio apartment.

Heikki was heavily involved with the _Helen Net_ , and revealed that there was an enormous number of women, both lesbians and simply feminists, who had gathered under the _Defend Helen's Family_ banner, and had actually succeeded in getting laws passed in some states, protecting the right of lesbians and single women to adopt children.

They were all settled, and Heikki was pleased to have the little cottage occupied again. Just before she left them, Helen took Heikki aside, and asked whether she could borrow a little money. "We had to leave all the Christmas presents behind," she said, embarrassed, "but I want to have _something_ to put under the tree for the girls!"

Heikki was reaching into her hip-pocket for her guy-style wallet, but she grinned and said, "I think Penny has it all under control, but here, here's a couple of hundred, anyway!"

"No, we just brought five bags..."

"Penny's bag was mostly presents, I understand. It was to be a surprise!"

"I don't believe it!"

"Shh! Pretend I didn't tell you!" she said, and gave Helen a quick kiss, before she turned to hurry off.

"But... what about her clothes?"

Heikki nodded solemnly. "Most of them left behind."

Magically, in the night, the presents they had worked on for weeks appeared under the tiny Christmas tree in the living room. Helen turned loving eyes to Penny, who grinned with delight.

"You were supposed to only bring essentials, Penny."

"Sure! That's what I did!"

"Your clothes?"

"With Alyssa. We'll get them later; I brought enough!"

The next few days, Heikki turned up in the afternoons, and took the girls out to play: skate, or go tobogganing, and often Penny joined them, and on one occasion, Helen and Allie. They lived in a sort of winter paradise, the gentle hills were covered in snow, and it was ideal for what they wanted to do. Gena had a whale of a time, while Erin joined her very cautiously at first, but then with increasing confidence. Gena was a natural at ice skating, and took to it, with Aunt Heikki—who was an expert—as if she had been born on skates. Seeing this, Heikki began to teach Gena and Erin seriously. Gena, she told Helen, was a born athlete.

Helen wondered about the child she was carrying. Would she—Helen had decided it was a _she_ —would she be as good at everything as her oldest foster-sister? Helen felt such a strong attachment to Gena and Allie that she was beginning to feel that she could not possibly feel more for a child of her womb.

Helen felt the burden of parenthood later that day. She was supervising the girls at their baths, when she saw Gena playing with her genitals. Disguising her shock, she managed to finish up the baths, and get Gena by herself. The child told her, showing off her clit, and said, look Mom, I have this gadget, it's totally neat!

Taking a deep breath, Helen told her that her body belonged to her, and whatever she did with it that felt good was okay, as long as it didn't hurt other people.

"Hurt who, Mom? Look, I go like this... and it feels... Oh Mom, you should try it!"

Helen pulled her close and hugged her, with a smile at the innocent remark.

"You're thirteen, and when you play with your body, you have the brains to keep it under control. Right?"

"Yeah, but Mom..."

"But there are young eyes watching you. If your sisters see you doing that in front of them, they might begin doing it in front of _their_ friends, and... sometimes, it could get to be too much fun, and they could do it too often."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Do it quietly, on your own, in private, love."

"Did you used to do it as a kid?"

"Yup!"

"See, and you're a respectable lady, right?"

"I'm glad you think so, love!"

"Yes, you _are._ Wait... does doing this make you a lesbian?"

Helen was unable to breathe for a while in shock.

"Huh, Mom? It does, doesn't it. Oh gosh."

"No, darling; the things you do on your own don't make you a lesbian or anything. That comes from the heart. You want to talk about it?"

"Well... no... yes... Yes."

"Come, let's get dressed, and go somewhere private."

Mother and daughter dressed quickly, and much to the disappointment of the other three, went out for a spin in the minivan.

It was a long talk, which will be reported later. But it emerged that Gena had a huge crush on Aunt Heikki!

# Christmas

Christmas was celebrated in peace, and they visited the Johnsons, taking careful precautions, and of course Aunt Heikki visited often, and one day Gena gave her flowers, blushing in embarrassment, and Heikki accepted them graciously, and sneaked a look with Helen, who smiled and shrugged.

Helen despaired of finding work in her present condition, but early in the New Year, she finally let Penny go looking for a job. "I should be paying _you,_ not the other way around," Helen muttered.

"Miss Helen, all I want is to work for you, and look after you. I don't want you to ever bring it up again."

"Penny, we're not a couple, we're not lovers; what can I give back to you?"

"You're giving Erin and me a home!"

"No, Penny; you're giving _us_ a home!"

"Oh Miss Helen, I'm not clever enough to argue with you. Please don't make me feel stupid."

Helen subsided, and Penny headed out, a determined figure, dressed warmly against the bitter cold.

By noon she was registered at a temp agency in a town a couple of miles away, and had a job as a housekeeper at a boarding school just down the street from their house.

A couple of days later, Penny came home early, all excited.

"Miss Helen! The Principal want to talk to you! I think they want to give Erin and Gena a place at the school!"

# Ferguson School

Soon all of them were at the school. It was a lovely old school, surrounded by farms and woods.

"Miss Nordstrom? I'm Bert Frederickson, the Principal! Please come in. And these must be the young ladies I've heard so much about!" Gena and Erin greeted him politely, and Allie gave him a nice smile. "First let me tell you a little about the place," he said.

It was a private boarding school, with a fairly healthy endowment. They had about 800 students, of all grades, half of whom were full-fee-paying, the others were on scholarships. About a quarter were resident, the others lived in the community, with teachers at the school, or carefully selected families. About fifteen families lived right on the grounds, including the principal.

"About how much does it cost?" Helen asked, nervous, but curious.

"About $20,000 a year, board and fees," Dr. Frederickson said, with a smile.

Helen blanched.

"Listen, Miss Nordstrom, let me put the cards on the table. You see, I know who you are!"

Helen let out her breath slowly, and silently looked at the principal.

"Don't worry; I'm not going to turn you in. No, I think we're in a position to help each other."

Helen began to breathe again, but she was cautious. What did he want? Was it something she'd rather not do?

"How did you know?"

"I've seen you before! Let's see; you two: come with me. Penny, can you tell Marga to fix us some hot chocolate? Good!" He disappeared for a minute, and came back with a box of blocks, and Allie was soon occupied with them on the floor of the office.

"Miss Nordstrom, you're a fugitive, and you can't get work as a musician. How have you managed to feed and clothe these children?"

"Dr. Frederickson, I don't know what you're after. Until I know how we stand, I'm not saying another word."

The Principal looked at her seriously, and said, "I believe the children are in good hands. I'm a fair judge of character, and I believe that whatever you've done in your youth, these children are not in any danger from you. However, I have been a teacher for thirty years, and a principal for twenty, and I know that appearances are deceptive. So my present beliefs are subject to what I see and hear. But I believe in the principle of _innocent until proven guilty_. So if we don't have an agreement when you leave this office, it will be as if we never talked here."

Helen looked into his eyes, and believed that he would be fair.

Taking a deep breath, she began to describe how they had managed. "I have some experience in housing construction. I was a construction worker in the daytime, and a waiter at night. We were quite comfortable." Helen saw, with grim satisfaction, that he was appalled.

"Construction? My god!" He came up to Helen and took her hands in his own, and stared at the rough, calloused skin. He was almost in tears. "I can hardly believe it," he said, his voice shaking.

Helen shyly withdrew her hands, and smiled. "It wasn't as bad as it sounds, sir; I look a lot weaker than I am, because of the baby. Carpentry is in my blood!"

But the Principal shook his head vigorously. "Working two jobs... living in a low-rent home?" Helen nodded, smiling. "Not a life for you, young Nordstrom. I think we can do better; not a _lot_ better, I'm afraid. So you're living in the old Ferguson place?" Helen shrugged, and described the house. It turned out it _was_ what they called the Old Ferguson Place; the one-time home of the founder of the school and the village.

"I need a music teacher," he said. "The former one is almost crippled with arthritis. All the promising young music teachers have gone to the big cities, and we can't compete with our salaries. I can only offer you $2,500 a month, before taxes."

Helen's eyes shone. "What do I have to do?"

"Well, teach music for all the grades, K-12; train the choir, and the band. But listen, I'll give you as much free time as I can. You're expecting, and inexperienced. I'll try and find part-timers to help with some of it."

"I'll do it!"

"You _will?"_

"Oh God, yes; it's been awful not to be teaching! You have no idea how I miss it!"

The Principal grinned. "I'll have a contract ready by tomorrow, or later today! This is wonderful!" He sighed. "Now all I have to do is find a math teacher, and a physic teacher!" He made a face. "It's been a bad few weeks."

Helen smiled. "More arthritis?"

"No, old age. Two retirements, and a young fellow who never showed up in the Fall."

"So who's been teaching in his place?"

"Me. I'm comfortable with the middle grades, but... not the upper end. I think I can find part-time help there, but I'm not sure."

Helen nodded.

Before they left, Helen had been offered two scholarships, one for Erin and one for Gena. They would be Day Scholars, and pay only a token fee of $100 each for the remainder of the year, and $200 each next year. Helen would make around $1,800 a month after taxes, and Penny would bring home almost as much, ironically.

That night they celebrated. Helen had happened to mention that she was hungry for pizza, and that was enough; Penny hurried off to get a pizza with all of Helen's favorite toppings.

The following day, they all got into warm clothes, and walked out to the school, which was a mile away. Bert saw them coming and came out to the front steps to greet them. With a broad smile he handed her two sheets of paper. It was a renewable contract to teach until the summer, at which time Helen would get a contract for the following year.

Helen read it carefully; it only bound her for six months, anyway, so she cheerfully signed it, and gave a copy back to the Principal.

He handed her a set of keys, and they set out on a tour of the school. Penny headed off to the kitchens, and Allie sat happily in the carrier strapped to Helen's shoulders. The girls followed behind, looking at the ancient rooms in wonder—they were about a hundred years old, they were told. Some parts were older, dating from the Civil War. Gena and Erin were asked nicely by the librarian, who happened to be in early, whether they would help sort some of the books, and they eagerly agreed. It was a lovely library with many of Helen's favorite books in it.

"Grace, I'd like you to meet Eleanor Nordstrom. Eleanor, this is Grace Garth, our Librarian. Eleanor will be our new music teacher!"

"Oh, how nice! Welcome!"

Helen smiled and thanked her.

The Music Room was well-planned and stocked with instruments and music. The selections were traditional, and there were some pieces of dubious value. Helen said nothing, as she and the Principal sorted through the stuff. He sat at the piano and tried to play it, but it was not only out of tune, it had missing notes. Some of the furniture was broken, some of the instruments were damaged; the room looked rather dismal. The Principal turned to Helen in dismay.

Helen laughed. "You look real unhappy! It's not so bad, Dr. Frederickson!"

"Bad? It's _awful!_ I haven't been here in a while—the poor woman must hate me!"

Helen grew sober. "Well, it does need fixing up, but... a few bright bulbs and a good vacuuming will be a good start. And, you know, a modern humidity control unit would help protect your instruments."

"Humidity control? Wow; how much will it cost?"

"About $200."

"Oh! I was imagining something costing thousands of dollars..."

"No, a simple little thing. You can get a wonderful unit for about $500."

"Let's certainly get one. Bulbs, vacuuming, humidity control. Let's get the piano tuned and repaired, too."

"Can we afford a new piano?"

Frederickson sighed. "Yes, I suppose we can. Anything else?"

"Is there a copying machine?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"A computer?"

"Well, yes; we have a few Pentiums..."

"Gosh, Dr. Frederickson... you should contact some of your alumni!"

"Helen, listen; is the piano really useless?"

"Let me repair it as well as I can, then let's decide. A new electric piano might be less expensive, and more versatile."

"Wait; did you say you'd repair it?"

"Yes; I'm an experienced instrument-maker!"

"Good Lord! All right; what do you need?"

It was a lot of fun requisitioning supplies, having the staff come in and clean the room, install bright new light bulbs, a humidity control unit, clean the chairs, and so on. There was a set of recorders that Gena and Erin helped Helen to recondition. They took out all the music and organized it, and took inventory. "This is fun!" said Erin, and Helen thought that perhaps her new students would find it just as much fun, sorting music.

School would begin in less than a week. The piano repair kit that Helen had ordered arrived in a few days. She had already taken the piano apart, made the obvious repairs with pliers and hammers and screwdrivers. Now she began replacing strings, re-felting hammers, lubricating the action, and cleaning dirty parts. By mid-afternoon she had done as much as she could, and tuned the piano a trifle lower than concert pitch, to give the frame time to adjust to the tension. She went out to Bert Frederickson's office, and told him the piano was repaired.

"Well, how does it sound?"

"Why don't you come and take a look?"

"Be right there."

When he came, she was playing a 2-part invention on it. "Sounds okay," he said, grimacing. "What do you think?"

Helen paused. "Do you have a concert hall? Is there a good piano there?"

"We do have an Assembly Hall, and—I believe the piano there is worse than this one, honestly."

"Then we need a new one," Helen said. "We'll have it moved to the stage for special events. Meanwhile, we'll put this one there."

"Okay," said the Principal, with resignation.

# The Music Teacher

Helen heard that the old music teacher lived in a cottage on the campus, and decided to visit. Gena and Erin were very much into the library work, and Allie was with Helen.

Helen knocked on the door of the cottage, and a frail little old lady opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice muffled with her obvious pain.

"Hello! My name is—Eleanor Nordstrom; I've just signed on as the music teacher!"

"Oh! Eleanor, is it? Please come in!"

"Oh dear; I was told that you had arthritis, but I had no idea it was this bad!"

"It's terrible... I can hardly think... please sit down. I'm trying this new rub, but I can't even get the cap off."

Helen set Allie down, and sat close to the woman, and helped her with her rub. Feeling sorry for her, Helen began to gently massage her hands. Soon, the old lady was weeping with relief.

They quickly became firm friends. Her name was Marion, and she took a liking to Helen right away. What was more, Allie decided Marion was okay, and began to talk to her.

Helen and Marion walked back to the music room, and Helen showed Marion what she had done, and Marion was pleased. She sat at the piano, and began to play, and Helen realized that Marion was an excellent pianist. "I haven't played so well in years! My dear, you have healing hands. I'm sure of it. My word... look at my fingers! I can't believe it!"

"I wish there was a violin here," Helen sighed, "we could play some duets!"

"You play the violin?"

"Yes, that's my specialization."

"Wait; there is a violin back here... see, just the one. I kept it in the desk. I think it's valuable, but I don't know."

Helen whistled. It was lovely old unconverted 17th century instrument, a good one, the oldest she had seen. The bow was equally fine. Marion had simply hidden them away.

"Whose are these?" Helen asked.

"I don't know; the school's, I guess. Why? Are they any good?"

"I think they're worth about two million dollars!"

"Oh, my heart! Here? In my music room?"

"See, it's never been converted, and original, unconverted violins are very rare!"

"Well, let's hear you play it!"

Helen smiled, and sat down and began to adjust the violin. The bridge and the sound post had shifted, and the strings—steel strings; someone had tried to put steel strings on the ancient violin—were rusted and useless. Helen happened to have a set of nylon strings, and she put them on, adjusted the sound post, adjusted the bow, and tuned up, and played a scale.

Soon, arthritis forgotten, the two women, the one in her mid-30s, the other in her 70s, played and played and played. Allie listened, and clapped at appropriate times.

"It sounds wonderful! Eleanor, this piano—it's been fixed!"

"That was me," Helen said, modestly. "I repair pianos, too. I'm trying to talk the Principal into buying a new piano."

"Let's do a benefit! Let's do a recital, and if they charge ten dollars a person, they might raise the money they need, at the very least, half of it!"

Marion's arthritis got better daily. Every day Helen spent half an hour or so massaging her hands, and gradually the medication she was taking kicked in, and she was able to function almost normally.

The idea of a benefit recital met with general approval. It would serve as an introduction of Eleanor to the school community. So the evening on which parents dropped their children off, after supper, they had the opportunity to hear the new music teacher and the old one play a recital.

They got their money's worth. For 90 minutes they heard everything from folk songs to Handel, to Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Kreisler, Dvorak and Mendelssohn. It was a very appreciative audience. Helen smiled and spoke at the end of the evening. "We're trying our best," she said, "but you can hear the limitations of our piano. I'll play one last piece, if everyone puts an extra $2 into the box at the door!" There was some laughter, and many nods. Helen played her encore, and curtsied, to much applause, and went backstage with Marion. Marion gave Helen a big hug, and said, "You're a wonderful violinist, Elly; make a name for yourself as a violinist." Helen smiled and said, "I prefer to teach for a while, Marion."

# First Day of School

Helen and company came in early the first day of school. Gena was taken to her class, and introduced to her new classmates and her homeroom teacher, and Erin was taken to her class.

With the Principal's permission, Allie was allowed to remain in a little enclosure in a corner of the music room, where she clung to the rail, and gazed at the kids.

The first class was a bunch of 6th graders whom Helen quickly charmed into singing their best for her. Then came a set of 3rd graders, then 9th graders, more 6th graders, and so on.

By noon, Helen realized that a more detailed plan was needed. Carefully closing up the music-room, Helen went over to Marion's cottage and knocked, and Marion let her in.

Collapsing into a chair, Helen moaned that she'd taught six classes, and she was exhausted. "What am I doing wrong? I can't go on like this!"

Marion laughed, and sat next to Helen Putting her arms around Helen she said softly, "I'm sure you're doing a good job, dear! It's just very hard, that's all."

"But... but..."

"There _are_ a few things you can do," she agreed. Helen gratefully listened, and realized it was true.

She was doing the work of two people, really. But, given that, she had some short cuts. She could do half the prep, if she doubled the work she got out of it. The same songs could be taught to two grades, etc. Finally, Marion reminded Helen that the following day would be only half as bad. "Don't teach them anything new!"

Most of all, said Marion, don't waste an ounce of energy. "They know that in your condition, every movement takes much more effort. Elly, where's the baby?"

"Allie?... Oh gosh, she's in the music room!"

Marion laughed until she cried. "Hurry; I'll bring you a sandwich!"

Helen ran like the wind, and got inside the music room, and found Alison looking very resentful indeed. "Mama _bad girl._ I was crying!"

"I'm so sorry, Baby; Mama forgot you were here! I ran back, see?"

Allie held out her hands, and her Mama picked her up and fussed over her. The forgiving little girl quickly hugged her mother, and then hugged Gena and Erin who came to visit.

"Mom! Oh, my class is so neat!" said Gena. "We do algebra and everything!"

"Who is it?"

"Dr. Frederickson! He's the coolest!"

"My best class was the music class!" Erin said, loyally. Her third grade class had already been in for their music lesson.

Marion arrived with the sandwich, and was introduced around. "This is Gena, my daughter, and this is Erin, my adopted daughter!"

"Hello, Gena and Erin!"

Marion agreed to sit in, and watch Helen do the last four periods.

Following Marion's suggestion, Helen repeated many of the lessons she had done earlier in the day. She put in as much work as ever to get to know the children, but having taught the songs before, she had less work to do.

After the first class, Marion told Helen to stop five minutes earlier, give them their instructions, and calm them down before they left the room. "Or they'll burst out of here like a horde of Mongols!"

"I never thought of that!"

"Eleanor, that was a beautifully conducted class. They sang like angels! You have the knack for that!"

"Yes, they did sing well."

" ' _Well!'_ My word, if you can do _this_ well in one period... I'm stunned. It was almost two months before I... Here come the Mongols."

Marion's words of admiration gave Helen a little extra energy. She decided to teach the next class an antiphonal song that she had ready. Half the class sang one tune, while the other half sang a different tune and words. The seventh-graders were delighted.

Half an hour into the lesson, Helen stopped the singing and carefully interviewed them, insisting on quiet behavior.

"Miss Nordstrom, who's the little kid over there?" asked Jack, an energetic young man with grey eyes and fading freckles.

"It's my daughter Alice. Would you kids like to meet Alice?"

" _Yes!"_

"Only if you're very, very quiet."

"Okay, we're as quiet as mice!"

Allie was an angel. Smiling serenely, she let them shake her hand and said Hello.

"Now, when you go out of here, you'll please walk quietly. I don't want the Principal to hear that Allie is a bad influence on you kids!"

"No, we'll be real quiet, promise," said Laura, the class princess. They did leave quietly.

Marion continued to praise Helen, saying how beautifully she had managed the children. The two remaining classes went smoothly, and Helen's day was over. She had seen a quarter of all the students in the school.

"Elly," said Marion, "you are a wonderful teacher!"

"Thanks!" smiled Helen. "With your encouraging me, I could teach twice as many classes! I was half dead at noon," she confessed. "If you hadn't come over..."

"Well, someone had to tell you, else how could you know? Discipline was excellent; musically, the lessons were perfect. You needed to know what corners you could safely cut."

"And now, I do!"

"Yes, and now you do."

Marion smiled at Helen. Most of all she was struck with how much Helen loved the children. Helen fit in very well with the founding philosophy of the school, which was becoming increasingly harder to follow: to provide a warm loving place, a family for children who were unable to stay with their own families. As the school struggled along with rapidly rotating staff on the rolls, it was increasingly more difficult to maintain the ideal of a loving family, as it had been when Marion had been a youngster, fresh out of college in the sixties. And here was this very pregnant girl Elly, broadcasting love to these children! It was wonderful. Marion gave Helen a big, long hug. "I'm glad you've come to teach here," she said. "I hated to give it up, but I couldn't keep going. Now my hands are better, I could come back, but I don't have to!" Helen laughed.

# Choir and Band

Tuesdays and Thursdays were lighter, Marion explained. Three classes in the morning, then Choir, then two classes in the afternoon, and Band.

Helen started setting about getting ready for the following day, when Bert Frederickson came in. "$4000!" he said, enthusiastically.

"What's that?"

"How much we made on your concert! The new piano arrives tomorrow! They had the model you wanted, the Yamaha."

"Wonderful!"

"How did the day go?"

"Oh..."

"Beautifully," said Marion.

"Hello, Marion! Were you here the whole time? Very good of you!"

"No, just the afternoon. Bert, you have a jewel here. You should have seen her!"

"Wonderful!" said the Principal, with a wink at Helen. "I was told she was pretty good! How do you like the kids, so far?"

"Very well, thanks! They seem very nice, decent kids. Racially homogeneous, of course, but you can't help that."

Bert hung his head. "Well, you've put your finger on the problem." He sighed. "Not all of us are interested in improving the mix, but I'm glad you're on our side. Marion was, too." Marion nodded, solemnly.

Helen's little flock gathered in the music room around 3:30, and they put on their coats, and set off for home. It was snowing again, very heavily, and the wind was fierce.

"Should we bring the car tomorrow?" asked Helen.

"No!" they yelled, grinning. "We're Minnesotans, now, and we don't care about the cold," Gena said.

Gena and Erin were set at the dining room table, to do their homework, and get it out of the way, while they snacked, and had some hot chocolate. Allie was let out to roam around the house, and they knew she would lie down by herself and fall asleep pretty soon; it had been a long day for the little tyke.

Helen and Penny retired to their bedroom, and Helen lay down, and Penny began to massage the knots out of her neck and spine. Oh, how wonderful it felt! It had been the best decision of her life, to ask Penny to join her. Now Penny supplied the energy and the labor, and the motivation for her life, and in return Helen gave her nothing.

She resolved to begin paying Penny a salary. At least a token amount of a few hundred a month. She'd give Penny $500 a month. It was nothing, but it was an obligation.

"You don't have to pay me, Miss Helen."

Helen was stunned. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I just knew. Don't pay me."

"I must. If I didn't, things would change between us, Penny. I'm a much better employer than I am a... a lover. I don't want to be your lover."

Penny nestled her cheek against Helen's back. It was more to do with Helen's peace of mind than anything else. She was not Helen's whore. Helen cared for her as much as she cared for anyone. In some strange way, accepting Helen's token salary would buy Penny more intimacy than being Helen's lover would.

"All right. But I'm going to save it up, and give it back to you."

"Okay. Anything you like. I love you Penny."

"I love you too, Miss Helen."

"When I die, I want you with me, Penny. You'd better hope it's a good place."

"Oh Miss Helen... talk about something else, please!"

Helen turned around, and put her arms around Penny. At times like this, Penny wished Helen could see her as a woman, and not as a servant. It took all the self-control Penny could muster not to blurt out all that she knew to Helen. She got ready for Helen's kiss. Oh, it was so sweet.

"Are you afraid of death, Penny?"

"Yes... who isn't?"

"I'm not. There's no heaven, and no hell; you just stop living, that's all. A minute of agony, and then it's over. Peace."

"Then who looks after the children?"

Helen was stunned.

She had never thought of that.

That's what it meant to be a mother: to fear death. Suddenly death was no longer a friend.

Penny felt Helen stiffen, and realized that for all her brilliance, Helen hadn't realized the implications of parenthood.

"I didn't mean to scare you!"

"Oh God, Penny... if I die..."

"Shh... I'll take care of them. Don't you worry."

The way Helen looked into her eyes sent chills down Penny's spine. She felt Helen's baby pressing into her stomach, but she was used to it now. When Helen got emotional, she forgot everything. And Penny wouldn't have it any other way.

They fixed dinner together, and watched reruns of the Galaxy Show. Then they went to bed early.

"Penny", called Helen.

"Yes?"

"I can't sleep."

"What do you want me to do?" Penny whispered.

"Just..." Helen placed Penny's hand between Helen's legs, and sighed. Penny understood, and softly and tenderly she stroked Helen. Her eyes were closed, and Penny worked carefully, knowing what would work best, and soon Helen's breath was coming in short spurts, and then there was a long, satisfied sigh.

"That was the best one for this whole year," Helen gasped. They looked into each other's eyes, and it was magic. "Don't ever leave me," she said, in a hoarse whisper.

"I won't," Penny said. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth. Penny gazed into those green eyes—they looked more grey in the half light—and she could imagine that Helen had never loved anyone as much as she loved Penny.

Penny lay back and let Helen comfort her.

The second day, Tuesday, was a different experience from the first. The first class in was Gena's, and Gena came up to Helen with two classmates before they could begin the lesson.

"Miss Nordstrom, we think Gena should audition for the choir!" one girl said.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, sure."

"Please, can I?" asked Gena.

"When is that usually done?"

"During music class!"

"But I haven't done it so far!"

"Oh, you should. You ask: anyone to audition for the choir? And they come up!"

"But... I don't know how good they have to be!"

Gena was getting impatient. "Well, audition me, and decide later! Otherwise I have to wait a whole _week!"_

"True! Okay, class, we have a problem. Someone wants to audition for the choir! Anybody else?"

"Yeah, me!" said a little guy of about Gena's age, but with an uncracked voice. The class roared with laughter.

"Okay, come on up. Everybody else, be quiet, please."

Helen took the two of them through scales, and it was soon clear that the boy could only sing up to a B, and no lower than tenor F. An excellent Alto range.

Helen found some music and asked them to sing. Gena sang perfectly, and to Helen's surprise, so did the boy!

"Okay! You're both in!" said Helen.

"I was just kidding!" said the boy, with a grin. Helen looked at him sternly. "You mean, you _refuse_ to sing in the choir?"

"No, they only have girls singing in the high parts; all the boys are, like 10th graders and up!"

Helen snorted and said no, that rule had to go. So she asked the fellow one more time, and he said he'd sing, and the class cheered.

Helen took them through the piece she had planned for them, and they learned it quickly. Then they wanted to sing the antiphonal song she had taught the previous class. Bemused, she asked them how they knew about that, and got the obvious answer. She handed out the music, and was shocked to hear them sing it perfectly right off. They had learned it note-perfect from the other class!

Then it was time for Choir.

The choir was a group of 47 kids—now, of course, 49. Young Jerry had to sing Alto with a bunch of girls, but he didn't mind! Helen asked them what songs they knew, and soon had them singing beautifully in four-part harmony.

Just at that moment, the new piano chose to make its appearance. It came in a large crate, and was put together before the wondering eyes of the kids. Helen directed the proceedings with relaxed knowledgeability, and in five minutes, the piano was ready to tune, and in five more, it was ready to play. The team from the music store tuned it, gave them a cheery wave, and left.

"Let's hear you fellows sing with it, then!" Dr. Frederickson asked. Helen took her place on the piano bench, and nodded to the choir. She went into the introduction, and they made their entry beautifully, and sang like angels. When they were finished, they broke into cheers, and the Principal had to quieten them down with a grin, after which he said a few words to Helen, and departed.

They continued to sing, until the choir and Helen were all exhausted. Then Allie began to sing in her corner. Of course the whole choir insisted on being introduced to her, and she graciously shook each of their hands, with a cheery Hi!

Helen dismissed the choir, and closing down the music room, headed to the Cafeteria, and collected a lunch for three: herself, Alison, and Marion.

"Oh, how nice!" said Marion, and they settled down to eat.

Helen asked about the auditioning business, and learned that the kids had been essentially correct. Yes, she had kept boys out of the alto section, but that had been mostly a discipline issue. If Helen could handle it, there was no reason not to have boy altos. What about a junior choir, Helen asked, and Marion demanded: who has the time? She asked Helen to talk it over with Bert Frederickson, saying that she saw it as a big scheduling problem.

What about the Band, Helen asked.

Marion sighed. That was the weakest of all. Marion didn't know much about band music, so she had done the best she could. She begged Helen to try her best. "They were so bad, I was embarrassed to give a recital. There hasn't been one for two years." It was a very subdued Helen who returned to her classroom.

Helen asked the Sixth Graders whether they'd like to have a choir of their own: 4th, 5th and 6th grades. "Oo, that would be cool," was the response. "Just the best singers, Miss Nordstrom. No jokers like Pete, here."

"Hey, I wasn't _asking_ to sing, Moose. I said it would be cool to _have_ a choir. Didn't I, Miss Nordstrom?"

"Yes, Pete. Let's audition you folks. Who's first?"

There were six possibilities, and the next class was 4th Grade, and Helen found four good prospects. After they had learned their song and left, it was time for Band.

It was the most miserable hour she had experienced in a school. The first two minutes were the worst. They couldn't play a note right, let alone together. And it was deafening. She tried everything: scales, individual teaching; nothing worked.

Finally she asked them to lay down their instruments. She quizzed them about the band, and gradually built up a picture; a rather sad one.

Only the flutes knew how to play.

The clarinets used to know how to play flute.

The trumpets knew how to play three notes.

The horns used to know how to play three notes on the trumpets.

The percussion was dying of frustration.

Helen began to laugh, and they looked at her as if she was mad.

"Don't you think it's funny?"

"No!"

"Listen, guys; let's start with recorders!"

"What's that?"

Helen pulled out a recorder and showed them. She played a bit of a sonata to demonstrate what was possible.

"It's a sort of whistle," one boy said.

"Yeah, but it's cool!"

Out of the 14, five didn't want anything to do with the whistles. There were 4 sopranino, 4 soprano, 4 alto, and one tenor recorder. Helen handed them out, and tried to teach them the basics.

It was a disaster. They all left in disgust. Helen simply sat and stared at the door, only inches away from tears.

Bert Frederickson, Gena and Erin all walked in about the same time.

"How did you make out with the band?" Bert asked.

"Oh... Okay, I guess," Helen lied. "No... it was horrible. They're mostly hopeless. No; they're just plain hopeless."

Bert nodded, smiling grimly.

But Gena was shocked. "I don't believe it! Some kids were saying they've taken clarinet lessons for ages! I was telling them I play recorder, and they were laughing because I only started in the summer!"

"Well, you play a heck of a lot better than them, I can tell you."

"No way, Mom! Like Jerry, he plays trumpet and cornet! He said he has a trumpet in the dorm!"

"Jerry? The alto Jerry?"

"Yeah, him! He's not in the band?" Helen shook her head.

"Well," said Bert, "maybe one section at a time!"

"I tried that," said Helen. She described in detail how it had gone.

They all got progressively more depressed.

"Just do what you can," Bert said.

"Fire them, and audition for a band from scratch," Gena said.

"That's it. Let's begin with a clean slate. How do I announce that the band is being disbanded, and I'm auditioning for a new band?"

"I'll take care of it," Bert said seriously. "Let's set up for auditions tomorrow at 3. Is that good?"

"Yes," said Helen, though she knew she would be exhausted by that time. Then she brought up the idea for a Junior Choir, and Bert was all for it, and they hammered out the logistics of it.

# Jeffrey

Back home, Helen got a call from Marika, who was pleased that Helen had got a teaching job. "Ferguson is a super place," she said.

"I love it! The band stinks, but everything else is great."

They exchanged news about Michelle, who was now free on bail, and about the legislation that was going on about child custody for gays and lesbians.

Finally, Helen talked to Marika about Jeffrey, and told her everything. She wanted to contact Jeffrey, and tell him about the baby. Could Marika arrange for Jeffrey to fly over on a weekend?

"You have to talk to him first and prepare him," Marika said. She would ask Sam whether Jeffrey was being watched, but that was unlikely. If he wasn't it was perfectly safe to call him.

Helen coached Penny carefully.

Penny dialed, and Jeffrey came on immediately.

"Hello?"

"Jeffrey?"

"Yes, who's this, please?"

"Jeffrey, please don't hang up! I have someone here who wants to talk to you, but we're anxious that there isn't anyone listening in."

"Listening in? Why? What's going on?"

"Jeffrey? It's me, Helen."

"Oh my god. Oh my god. I can't believe it."

"Jeffrey, if you're not alone, I'm hanging up. Tell me quickly: are you alone? Is your line tapped? I'm wanted by the police in every state, Jeffrey."

"No, don't hang up! I'm sure the line is safe!"

"Good!" Helen took a deep breath. "Jeffrey, I have a huge confession to make."

Helen heard Jeffrey gasp. When he spoke, finally, she closed her eyes and held her temple. It was incredibly painful.

"Helen... if you had any idea how my life has been... thank god you called..."

"Jeffrey, this is going to hurt."

"Oh god, no. I can't stand it anymore!"

"This is not to say I love you, or anything like that you want to hear."

"Oh god!" Jeffrey whimpered.

"It gets worse," Helen said, grimly. "I'm pregnant with your baby!"

"What? Oh God... Oh God... Oh please, I beg of you, let it live! I'll do anything. If you want it, keep it. Or give it to me, I'll look after it. Oh God, oh God... that's so wonderful! Please let it live!"

He was getting incoherent, and Helen spoke sharply. "Jeffrey, listen! It's been seven months, kid; of _course_ I'm going to have the baby. It's due in February or March. I just wanted you to know in case you wanted to be around when I delivered."

"Oh God, that's wonderful! Yes! Yes, I want to be there! Oh Helen... my heart is so filled with love and joy for both of you, the child and the mother... I think I'm going to die of pure happiness! Oh God, life is beautiful! Oh Helen..."

Helen began to cry, and Jeffrey comforted her.

"Oh Jeffrey—I don't love you... but I love you! I feel like such a bitch for hurting you, but I'm so happy that you're my baby's Dad! I'm not making sense, I suppose..."

"Can I come see you?"

Helen said yes, he could, and set the plan in motion. Marika arranged for the tickets, and reported that Jeffrey would arrive in St. Paul at 10 p.m. on Friday.

Wednesday went smoothly. Helen picked up 10 more kids for the junior choir. The Principal made the announcement that the band had been dissolved, and Helen heard a huge sigh of relief all across the school. Only the band itself was in total shock. Seven of them came running to the music room at 10.

"Miss Nordstrom! Did you shut down the band?"

"Yes, dear; you guys can't play!"

" _I'm not in the band anymore?"_

"Yeah, what happens to us, then?"

"Miss Nordstrom, I can play, really! I can play flute okay. Am I out, _too?"_

"Yes," said Helen firmly, "you're all no longer in the band." They began to swear, and Helen frowned, and held up her hand. "But you can all audition again! You can audition for more than one instrument. If you don't make it as a clarinet, you might make it as a flute, or whatever!"

All through the day, she repeated that story. She'd had a rough night with Jeff, and all this was wearing her down. After lunch, Marion came over, again, to keep her company. "I'm going to pay you for being here for me, Marion. What a difference it makes!"

Marion laughed. "You're pregnant, Elly; everything seems huge when you're pregnant!"

"I'm curious," Helen said. "Are you married? Do you have kids?"

"Yes; he's dead; God bless his soul. He was older, and he died a few years ago. I have two boys, one in Arizona, one in Florida. I see them only occasionally! Joe was home for Christmas, and Frank will be around for Easter, he said!" Helen smile, and then the next class came in.

Marion sat in on the band auditions. It was unbelievable. Some thirty kids auditioned. Ten of the old band players auditioned, and only four made it through. But the amazing thing was that there were fifteen new players they acquired; flutes, clarinets, trombones, horns, a bassoon, and a tuba, they said they'd stayed out of band out of embarrassment, because it had been so terrible. After they left, Marion covered her head in shame.

Helen said that perhaps she had put Marion in an awkward position. "I could have done it more gradually," Helen mused. Marion laughed. "No," she said, "this was the best way. Right off, you have a band. I'm mortified, but no more than I deserve, really. I should have done this years ago."

Helen gradually met all the teachers. They were all very decent folks, and happy to have Helen on board. Not one of them knew who she really was, except Bert Frederickson.

The pressure to move Helen on campus started soon. "We need someone young and vigorous," the older teachers said.

"We need someone with experience, and a good disciplinarian, like you," the younger ones said.

"We need a fun teacher like you!" the students said. And everyone wanted Allie on campus to play with!

On Friday, Helen drove the minivan out to the airport, some 40 miles away. She was alone. Somehow, she and Jeffrey needed to find an emotional equilibrium, and she didn't want to tip the scales with her family by her side. Jeffrey walked hesitantly off the ramp, squinting into the light. He looked thin and unhealthy. Helen walked slowly forward, feeling awkward. When Jeffrey saw her, his whole bearing changed, and he projected pure, unreserved pleasure and joy, and love. Helen let him hold her, and rested her head on his shoulder. If only she were in love as much as he was!

"I'm Elly, here, OK?" She warmed him with a smile. He sobered quickly, and then smiled. He held her at arm's length and devoured her with his eyes.

"Every human being should feel what I'm feeling right now," he said softly.

"Jeffrey... don't get yourself into a state. You know everything isn't how you want it to be."

Jeffrey stood, looking bewildered. Helen took his arm and led him away towards the baggage claim.

"Is there... nothing for me?"

"Of _course_ there is: a baby, with luck. And a sort of family that will always welcome you."

Jeffrey sighed. He has such an expressive voice that Helen almost wished he wouldn't talk.

"Don't you love me—at _all?"_

Helen turned to face him. "We've had this conversation before, Jeffrey. Back then you said you understood shades of love. You've _always_ known that I care for you. If this baby is confusing you, I apologize. I feel exactly the same way now as I felt when we... made the baby. I love you more than millions of women out there, but not as much as some special girl out there who will be your love." Helen paused, feeling rotten, and slightly angry. "If this baby complicates your life, all I can say is: I'm very, very sorry. I'll keep her out of your life as carefully as I can."

"Oh Helen," he said sadly, as they walked slowly towards the baggage claim area again, "we think in such different ways! I'm trying to put myself in your place... and it's impossible." They were at the carousel, and Jeffrey found his bag right away. Helen led him out to the minivan.

Just as Helen began to think she was causing Jeffrey more pain than pleasure by inviting him to visit, he said the opposite. "I'm so glad you let me visit," he said.

"Why? I'm just realizing how hard this must be for you."

"See, that's the difference. You can't believe how happy I am to see you! I think women are that way. If there's something they can't have, they'd rather not see it. For me, if I can't have it, let me at least _look_ at it!"

A strange sadness passed through Helen. "For six months, I wanted to see you. It isn't love, Jeffrey; it's... an odd thing. You're the father of my baby! It's like an invisible thread that pulls at me. In my womb, there's a little person, with your stuff—your chromosomes in her cells! God, I'm glad I'm a woman! I'm thankful for every moment of emotional torture I feel!" Helen drove in silence, while Jeffrey studied her in confusion. "I wish I was normal, Jeffrey, so you and I can marry and be happy! But then... I think of Michelle, and all the women I love... and I know that I'm as happy as I can be."

"You're right," Jeffrey said, startling Helen. "Probably, if you were like other girls, I wouldn't love you the way I do!"

Helen laughed, and they held hands the rest of the way.

Tired and cold, they got into the house, happy to be out of the January wind. Jeffrey was introduced to Penny and Erin, and they sat him down, and made him eat.

Penny was soon in love with him, and Erin adored him while he ate, and Gena chuckled. "Is he going to stay?" Erin asked, in a loud whisper.

"No, I'm just visiting!" Jeffrey told her with a smile. "I say," he said, "this is awfully good!"

"It's Penny's specialty," Helen said, smiling indulgently at Penny.

After he had eaten, Jeffrey asked to speak to Helen privately.

"It's no use, Jeffrey," Helen said in an almost inaudible voice. She knew only hurt could come of this little chat, and tears stung her eyes for Jeffrey's sake.

"Please, give me this one chance," he asked.

Helen sent the others away, and they sat in the living-room, as if they were a courting couple, in the half-light.

Jeffrey suggested all sort of arrangements. Helen rejected each one, and each time, she felt just a little worse.

"Helen, he said finally, "I'm desperate." Helen really looked at him, then, and saw how his flesh seemed to have melted away. His face was almost normal, but his arms and body were just bones. Concerned, Helen laid her hand on his body, as if to infuse into him a little of the flesh she carried with her. He had suggested seven mad plans, and she had rejected all seven of them. Now, sick of saying no, she resolved that she would try her hardest, if at all possible, to accede to his next request.

"At least," Jeffrey began at length, "at least..." he seemed to drag the words out, "... if I came to you... every few months... would you... kiss me? You kissed me once... for the sake of that memory...?"

"Yes," said Helen.

He came to her like a dead soul, and held her as if she were some fragile thing. They kissed. At first she let him kiss her, as if it was a charitable deed she was performing for him. But then her lips remembered the sweetness of this boy—the boy whom she had made into a tortured man—and they kissed as if, indeed, they were in love. Helen's heart told her to speak, and say that she loved him. After all, what was love? He loved her so desperately, he'd let her do what she wanted: sleep with any woman, have numerous lovers, refuse to let him sleep with her! They were only words—words that would make him very happy, and which would hurt her not at all.

But her lips remained silent. Her tongue only flirted with his. She willed herself to be what he would like her to be. She was tough, and hard, and gross, and lazy. But to Jeffrey, she was soft, and warm and fragrant and beautiful. He gently kissed her forehead, and all the love he had stored in his soul for seven long months welled out, perfect and glowing. As if the sad, hard, bitter words of earlier in the day had never been said, his lips worshipped her as the queen of his heart.

# Saturday

Early in the morning, Jeffrey woke to a racket. Helen was gone, and outside he heard all the women talking at once: Helen's warm sweet voice taking to Allie, Allie yakking back to her; Penny talking to Erin, Erin talking back excitedly, and Gena talking with an unknown voice. Visitors!

Jeffrey quickly cleaned himself up, pulled on a fresh pair of jeans from his duffel bag, and a long-sleeved knit shirt. They kept the temperature low here.

"Jeffrey! You're up!" said Helen. Her eyes glowed as if there was some understanding between them, but of course there wasn't.

The third adult was a tall blonde girl who could have been Helen's sister. Helen introduced her as Heikki, her cousin. It confirmed his vague suspicions as to Helen's ethnicity: she was definitely Scandinavian, even Finnish, though her speech didn't betray that fact at all.

Heikki talked easily with Jeffrey. She was almost exactly a younger version of Helen, but exaggerated. Bigger, bolder gestures, more vigorous speech, slightly higher-pitched voice. They were planning activities such as skating and tobogganing.

Jeffrey was whirled into the mad mood of Saturday morning in Ferguson's Creek. The girls knew all about tobogganing, and took turns taking Jeffrey down the slopes. They all clamored to be the ones to go with Jeffrey, even Heikki and Penny. But the best was to go screaming down the slope with Helen.

Every chance he got, Jeffrey kissed Helen. And one time, she found him, and asked for a kiss. Heikki, too, wanted kisses. Finally, Jeffrey kissed Penny, just to make sure no one was left out.

"No piano?"

"No... Gena, go get the keyboard, sweetheart!"

"No violin?"

Helen shook her head, smiling. One of the foremost violinists in the world, and she didn't have a violin in her house.

"But there's an incredible old violin in the school! Wanna see?"

"Sure!"

Gena looked at her mother, amazed. It was as if she was a child again, excited, joyful, fun-loving. And Jeffrey had done this! It was so funny how Jeffrey was so thoroughly off-balance! But Gena couldn't keep her mind on Jeffrey very long, when her beloved Aunt Heikki was in the house. Today she would kiss her! This was the day that Aunt Heikki would know that she, Gena, was in love with her!

Jeffrey, Helen and Allie dressed warmly, and set out for the school, leaving Penny in charge. It was a lovely walk in the stiff breeze, but the sun was bright, and the sky was blue. Helen wore a knitted cap with a jaunty pom-pom on top. Her eyes were bright with sheer _joie-de-vivre_ , and her lips curved in a happy smile, echoed in Allie's face. It was uncanny how the kids were picking up Helen's mannerisms.

Helen let them in through the postilion gate, and there were a dozen or so kids of all sizes playing in the snow. When they saw Helen they ran over and greeted Allie. They wanted to know whether Jeffrey was Helen's boyfriend.

"Are you?" Helen asked Jeffrey mischievously.

"I'd like to be!" was his reply.

"She's our best-est teacher!" confided a young lady to Jeffrey. "She's like, a total music wiz!"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! She plays the piano, and the violin, and she can sing—oh so beautiful!"

"Any music teacher plays the piano, idiot! Don't they, Miss Nordstrom?"

"Yes, kids; music teachers are supposed to play piano."

They were at a side entrance to the school building.

"Okay, one of you can come in, and keep Allie company. Who will it be?"

"Me, me, me!"

Once they were inside, Jeffrey asked, incredulously, "They _live_ here? How many?"

"Oh, let's see—there's around 800 total, all grades, and 200 are boarded on the premises. The rest travel from home, or are boarded in the village."

"Wow. And you teach all of them!"

"Yup!" Helen sighed. "I'm so glad I have the experience. I used to teach tennis, you know, Jeffrey."

"No, I had no idea!"

"Yeah, tennis camp. That prepared me for dealing with hordes of kids. Otherwise... Jeeze."

"So what's the secret?"

"To what?"

"Dealing with hordes of kids!"

"Oh. Juggling!" She grinned at him. She was impossible.

She led the way to the music room, and while Allie and young Nathan played with blocks, Helen showed Jeffrey the violin, and taught him how to place its age and origin.

"First, the overall construction. See, the angle here is typical early 17th century. On the back... this design..."

It was very instructive. She was a born teacher, and with her personal magnetism, she could focus his attention easily. In 20 minutes he had learned more than in his entire lifetime about Baroque violins. Then he asked to play the new electronic piano, and she set it up for him. It was a marvel. It had the touch of a real piano, but the versatility of an electronic instrument. She put music in front of him, and took up the violin. Nathan and Allie watched while they played together. And then they stopped and looked at each other. He reached out and drew her close, and she murmured, "You'll embarrass Nathan, Jeffrey." Then he smiled at Nathan and Allie, and the moment passed.

# Fixing up the House

They got back for lunch, and Jeffrey joined in the business of getting the house fixed up. Heikki was taking measurements in the basement, Penny was stripping peeling wallpaper from a bedroom, and Helen and Jeffrey installed a new sink in the kitchen. The Helen who patiently taped the nut and adjusted the wrench was as far a cry from the smooth celebrity who had charmed the AMS convention as East was from West. That Helen had been radiant and dazzling, and her beauty had hurt the eye. This Helen was earthy and simple and scarred and unthreatening. Capable, yet vulnerable. She would bend, but not break. She had on a heavy corduroy jumper over a heavy sweater in bright multi-colored stripes, and heavy black cable tights and black leg-warmers.

"There!" she said, smiling happily, "All done!" And she banged her head as she tried to get out. Jeffrey cracked up, laughing helplessly, and Helen punched him. Soon they were hugging and kissing, making up.

Around six, Helen got a call from Bert Frederickson. Apparently Marion had also played the organ for Sunday service at the school chapel. "I think she can still do it, but she wonders if could do it just this once. There's a $200 a month stipend attached to it!"

"Oh. Er, who conducts the service?"

"I do. And, er, there's a small choir... oh dear, I forgot to tell you all this."

"Dr. Frederickson, I don't mind doing _some_ of it, but not _all_ of it!"

"Well, why don't you do it this once, and you can decide how much of it you'd like to take on? Choir practice is at 7 in the school chapel."

"Okay... I have guests for the weekend..."

"Oh dear... I'm awfully sorry."

"May I bring them along?"

"Of course! Have you had supper? We'd be happy if you'd be our guests at the dining hall. Dinner is just being served!"

So the seven of them drove up to the school, and were let in by a senior, and conducted to the dining-room, a big room in which two hundred noisy kids were eating Saturday dinner. Gena and Erin found friends, and disappeared into the long tables, while Helen, Penny, Jeffrey and Heikki were given places at the teachers table. It was an excellent pot-roast, with a variety of vegetables.

Helen kept the introductions vague, though it was clear that Heikki and Helen were related, and that Jeffrey was very fond of Helen. Allie was quite the lady, fastidiously picking away at the slice of roast she was served. Helen had sliced it up into morsels, and let Allie feed herself.

By seven, Helen had a good idea how the Sunday worship went. There were about 15 members in the choir, not all of whom usually showed up. They just learned the hymns, unless they spontaneously decided to sing a little anthem, or were requested to sing one for a birthday or festival. With old-time courtliness, Bert Frederickson invited Heikki and Jeffrey to the service the next morning, and said that it would be appropriate to sing an anthem tomorrow for the opening of term, and the special guests.

"There you go!" said Heikki, laughing, "A special Heikki Johnson anthem!"

"Yeah, like, 'O Lord, it's hard to be humble, but I'm doing the best that I can!" The table roared, with Heikki laughing the loudest of all.

This time, there was a record turnout of 20 kids and two teachers for choir practice. The organ was a versatile electrical one, about 10 years old, with a full pedal board. Suddenly, Helen realized she knew very little about playing an organ in practice, though she knew all about them in theory.

"Would you like me to play?" asked Jeffrey, softly, with a smile.

"You play? Yes! I need time to figure it out!"

The four hymns were chosen: an Epiphany hymn, a beginning of school hymn, a hymn of praise, and a hymn of thanks, all well-known ones. The parts were learned in short order, and they sang them enough to know that there would be no problem.

"An anthem... what shall we do?"

"Mom, what about the opening chorus of 147? I love that!"

"No, darling; it needs a full orchestra. And without the score..."

"Hey, no problem; 147—I know it..." and Jeffrey began to play. In seconds the choir was clamoring to sing it. "Yes, yes, yes!" they chanted. Helen grinned. "It's tough!" she warned.

There was pandemonium.

Thinking furiously, Helen got a piece of paper, and wrote a hurried note, and gave it to Heikki who was watching from a pew.

"What's this?"

"Can you contact Marika, and ask her to get that for us?"

"Marika's back in California."

"Yes!"

"Oh. Okay."

Meanwhile, Gena had resourcefully printed the words on a blackboard, and placed it in front. The only actual part Jeffrey was certain of was the Bass, and the four basses were learning it already. Helen joined Gena who was teaching the part to the soprano line of four girls and two boys aged eight to eighteen.

It was difficult because it was in German. Helen stopped the music, and taught them the words carefully. "Don't be upset if we don't get it ready for tomorrow; we'll do it next week! I promise you, it's worth it!" They nodded impatiently, and learned the words slowly.

Meanwhile, Heikki was driving to St Paul, talking to Marika on the phone. To her amazement, Marika was in Ohio.

"Sis, can you lay your hands on BWV 147?"

"BWV... like, the cantata?"

"I guess; it's for church, at the school. It was Helen's idea!"

"Shh! Are you _crazy?"_

"Oops! Sorry!"

"Oh, wait... Helen has all this on line! Has she forgotten?"

"I don't know!"

"Hang on..."

It was. Soon Heikki was turning around, and heading back to the school, typed in the location, and there it was: BWV 147, edited by Helen Nordstrom, _et al._

"Hey, it's asking for an e-mail address."

"Just do it; it's for keeping statistics."

"Oh. I log in as myself?"

"Yeah."

So Heikki became a registered user database, and hurried back with 30 singing copies, and one full score, and one piano reduction.

"Wow! Where did you get all that?"

"I'll tell you later; just get going."

It was now 8:30, Penny, Heikki and Allie were drowsing off despite the noise. Helen was losing concentration, and was beginning to feel it was a crazy idea. Only the two teachers, Jeffrey, Jerry the Alto, and Gena were perfectly focused. Jerry was almost hopping with impatience.

"Okay, Mom, we're ready!"

"No, the tenors are not real solid..."

"Yes, they _are_. Jerry was helping them."

"Yeah! They're fine!"

Helen, a dull headache firmly set in her head, rapped for quiet. "We're going to take it slow this first time. Get the feel for the texture of it. If you get lost, signal me, or... Jerry, or Gena. Jeffrey, make sure the basses can hear you."

"Yeah. Will do."

"Jerry, I expect the altos will be okay."

"Yes, Miss!"

"Gena?"

"Yeah!"

"Here we go!"

There was an amazed quiet as Jeffrey played the introduction with its thrilling high trumpet line. Helen remembered the very second that Jerry realized that it _was_ a trumpet line, his ears perked up, and a thoughtful expression came over his face. _Uh-oh_ , she thought, _trouble_.

Then they were into the chorus, and all her cares were forgotten. It wasn't perfect, it was ragged, but nobody missed a single entry, or sang a wrong note. And Gena's face was transformed with pure joy as she nodded emphatically and sang her little heart out, committed to the slow deliberate pace her mother had set. With the inevitability of Bach, the piece ground to its glorious conclusion. They stood looking at each other, until Heikki and Penny cheered wildly from the pews.

"It's magnificent," breathed the teacher, Joanna Getchell, who was singing with the sopranos.

"That's a trumpet part!" said Jerry.

"Now we do it at the proper speed!" said Helen, and exchanged nods with Jeffrey. She beat a bar, and they were off. Jerry had snuck out to peek at the full score, but Helen chased him back. "Sing softly, and listen to each other," Helen instructed, and they began to sing. It was exciting, because of the clarity of the rhythms. Helen's eyes were on Gena. With all her heart she prayed that the child she carried should be as sweet-natured and as brilliant as Gena. What a team they made: she, Gena, Heikki... and Jeffrey. Her love for Gena and Allie threatened to overwhelm her. _I'm too emotional now to do serious music_ , she decided.

"Well, what do you think? Shall we do it?" The answer was a unanimous _yes!_

"Miss Nordstrom, I could learn the trumpet part for tomorrow!"

"No, Jerry; it's a very difficult part for a trumpet in D."

"But I can play up there! I swear!"

"Jerry! I don't think you should try it. Now, no keeping people up all night with trumpet playing. Promise me."

"Aw, please, Miss Nordstrom..."

"Promise me."

"Oh, okay, I guess I promise."

Helen was so exhausted, she only knew that they were back in the house by 9:30. Gena was watching the Galaxy Show which she had recorded while they were away.

"Is this the guy who..."

"Yes."

"He's cute! Grab him, Helen; he's perfect! O God, if you don't, I will."

"You'll destroy him."

"I know, but who cares?"

"I don't know, Heikki... there's nothing for the two of us together. He'll just be the baby's dad, that's all. I want that to be all."

# Sunday

Again, the next morning, Jeffrey was woken by the excited chatter of the girls. They seemed to be flitting in and out of the room he had been given, and he surmised that it was where they kept their better clothes.

"Oops! Did we wake you?" asked Erin, wide-eyed. Jeffrey smiled and said it was time to wake anyway. In spite of her smile, he noted that she kept her distance, apparently ready to run. Gena poked her head in and walked boldly up to Jeffrey and asked cheerily if he'd like a cup of coffee.

"That would be lovely," he replied with a smile. She was already dressed in a traditional-style dress, a shade too large for her, and Jeffrey again guessed that it was handed down.

"Isn't she pretty?"

"Who, Gena?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Yes. You're pretty too! I think you look like your mother, Erin!"

She looked so happy, he knew he'd said the right thing.

"Gena is a real neat girl. Will you be her daddy?"

Jeffrey was surprised by the question. "Um, hmm. I guess it depends on Helen; she prefers that we should be friends."

"Oh."

It was odd, conducting this intimate conversation with the little girl at the foot of the bed, not quite a frightened deer, but definitely a skittish colt.

"You should give her flowers," suggested Erin, and Jeffrey's soft heart went out to the child. So he had at least one ally in the house! Then Gena came in with his coffee, light and sugared, the way he liked it, and said, eyes glowing, "You should see Mom!"

"Why, what's she doing?" asked Erin.

"She's all dressed up!"

Smiling to himself, Jeffrey made to get up, and the girls retreated rapidly, Erin looking alarmed, and Gena looking mischievous.

Jeffrey slipped into the bath, carefully showered and shaved, and went into his room to change. All the women seemed to be at the end of the hall talking excitedly. When he emerged, with corduroy jacket and tie, he got appreciative sounds from the entire household.

"Almost as handsome as Steve," Gena remarked, bringing the house down.

"Who's Steve?" Jeffrey demanded, trying to sound unconcerned. Helen shushed Gena and slapped at her. Helen looked lovely, her hair pulled back, dressed in a full, dark red velvet gown and black opaque hose and ankle boots. Heikki looked a vision in blue and green, and Penny looked lovely in beige and brown. They piled into the minivan, and Jeffrey was given the highly desirable shotgun seat. It was still just seven; the service was at eight, but they had been invited to breakfast with the boarders.

The dining-room was filled with chattering kids who turned to say 'Oo' to Helen's queenly entrance. She quietly greeted them with a 'Good morning, kids,' and they answered, 'Good morning, Miss Nordstrom!' in a soft chorus. In one short week, Helen had charmed them completely.

They ate fast, and hurried to the chapel. It was a beautiful European-style chapel with a high ceiling, and a lot of wood paneling, but was well-lit with five floods that hung from the ceiling, in addition to the sunlight that would soon stream in through the stained-glass behind the communion table.

Jeffrey got comfortable, and began to play a series of quiet pieces from memory, while the choir got into their simple robes. There was even a robe for Helen, which unfortunately was too small. Dr. Frederickson consulted with Helen for the last time, and they filed into their places.

The first hymn was announced, and Jeffrey played the introduction nice and loud. Helen glanced at the body of the chapel, and saw that it was absolutely packed to capacity. All 200 seats were full, as were 40 extra chairs placed in the middle and a line of boys stood round the outside walls.

Helen sang with the choir for the hymns, standing next to Erin. It was incredible what the little organ was capable of with a knowledgeable hand on the keyboard. The opening hymn was the school hymn, Helen was told, and the singing was superb. Then there was a prayer, and a reading, and another hymn, _O for a thousand tongues_ , one of Helen's favorites, and she sang her heart out. The next reading, a psalm, was read by Marion, and Helen smiled with pleasure at her friend, who read well. Then it was time for the anthem.

Helen smiled at the little choir, and Jeffrey at the keyboard, and indicated the time.

The school had never heard anything like it. From the first thrilling notes on the organ to the rapturous singing of the choir, most definitely led by young Gena, to the high florid trumpet stop that was startlingly convincing, to the last emphatic chord, the little congregation sat stunned.

The anthem was cleverly followed by a wonderful him of thanks in which the congregation expressed its pleasure.

In his short address, Bert Frederickson welcomed everyone back, the resident students, visitors from the village, the faculty and staff, and new teachers, Miss Eleanor Nordstrom, and her family. (Eleanor was, in fact, Helen's name; _Helen_ was just a diminutive she had been called as a child, and kept using ever since.) Helen, seated next to Jeffrey, found her hand in his warm one.

Then Dr. Frederickson welcomed all the other guests, including Heikki Johnson, and Jeffrey Gibson, who so kindly played the organ today, and so well! His brief remarks after that had to do with giving thanks. Never give up hope, he said, because something will eventually come. He had been in a panic about losing Marion Lessig's services. But Miss Nordstrom had turned up, and he had high hopes for the school and Miss Nordstrom.

He spoke a little about the school as a family, and the rights and obligations of the members of a family, and then wound up.

The closing hymn was apparently a favorite, and it was sung out by 250 happy voices. After the benediction, Jeffrey cleverly played the accompaniment of the anthem as a recessional, filling in the voice parts as he could, a tour-de-force of organ playing.

Marion's eyes glowed as she spoke to Jeffrey about the organ. "You make me want to play again!" she said. He graciously invited her to play, while he showed her the registration he had used on the organ (his choice of organ sounds). Her fingers hurt so much, she could barely play. "Elly has such a healing touch," she said, looking up into Jeffrey's eyes. "That girl is an angel, I think sometimes."

"Elly?"

"Why, yes, your young lady! I call her Elly; what do _you_ call her?"

"Oh, er, Elly, of course!"

"Did somebody call me?" Helen asked, having turned to them.

"I was just saying you have healing hands, Elly, that's all."

"Oh Marion, they look bad. Give me your hands." In a few minutes, Marion felt her joints loosen up, and began to play more easily.

"That is one service I will never forget," declared Bert Frederickson. "You will never match the glory of it, never! The organ, oh my word!"

"Oh, I'm sure Elly can learn it!" Jeffrey said, grinning. "After all, she's an M.F.A!"

"No, just an M.A.," said Helen, surprised.

"I was speaking to Dr. Singer, and I believe you satisfied requirements for both degrees! And... well, there are some other details they can tell you!"

"What details?" demanded Helen, but Jeffrey stubbornly refused to give.

"And you, young lady; you sing like an angel, as do you, young Erin! I'm proud of our two most recent Scholars!"

"Oh, she's almost _profesh'nal!"_ said Erin, staunchly, grinning up at the Principal, and indicating her idol, Gena. Gena blushed, and put her arm round Erin, and gave her a little kiss on the head.

"Well!"

"Yes, I enjoyed that. Dr. Frederickson, it looks as though you don't let your music teacher have _any_ free time at all!"

Bert hung his head. "It's really supposed to be two positions, er—Elly. But we pay so little, nobody'd take it."

"I worry about when the baby comes," Helen said.

Somehow, everyone there got a strong sense of with how much fear Helen regarded that event.

"Are you being seen by a—a gynecologist? Perhaps not, under the circumstances, eh?" asked Bert, softly.

"What circumstances?" asked Marion, confused.

"Elly has been —unemployed for six months, Marion... it's a long story. Shall I find a good one for you?"

"Wait, wait," said Heikki, "I think Sam and Alice know somebody. It's okay, Dr. Frederickson; we know some —dependable people."

"She's a high-risk case," Penny volunteered. "She's lost three babies already."

"Oh, my god," said Jeffrey, overwhelmed. "I'm not leaving until that's settled!" Helen flashed him a warning look.

"It's just that the records are hard to get," said Penny.

"Why, hard to get?" Marion wanted to know.

"Well..." began Penny, and quickly subsided.

"My previous pregnancies... oh Marion, I'll tell you later!" Marion nodded unhappily, resentful that everyone seemed to know something that she didn't.

# The Doctor

"We're going straight to Sam's place," Heikki insisted, and they did.

As soon as Sam heard about Helen's conversation with the gynecologist in California he was suspicious. He asked for her name, and disappeared into his office. Twenty minutes later, he emerged, smiling, and handed the phone to Helen.

"Hello?"

"This is Dr. Reynolds."

"Oh, hi! Sorry to have left in such a hurry!"

"Well, let's just say, at least the baby won't be born in a prison hospital!"

"That's true! Well, I'm here, you're there... I'm getting a little worried."

"Well, listen. I have a good friend in St. Paul, but I'm told you live in Ferguson's Creek."

"Yes!"

"Well, my mother practices close by, in Lake Edward. Her name is Susan Cohen. I'd trust her with everything. And I can tell her your history, and send her the copies of your records that I snuck out of the hospital!"

"Oh, perfect!"

"You'll like her. She's pretty hip!"  
"Oh, I don't care, as long as she can spot trouble."

"Exactly. Can I call your phone still?"

"Yes. I'll wait."

Susan Cohen agreed to see Helen that very afternoon, which was convenient, considering Helen's work schedule.

# Conference with Jeffrey

"How many months as a man?"

"Oh... June through October—five months. It was—different!" She searched his face. "I'm not a real traditional girl, Jeffrey." She looked a little anxious. "Under the glamorous surface, there's all kinds of odd things that have gone on. I'm no prize."

"You're talking as though you're worried I'd lose interest in you!"

Helen blushed and looked at her hands. "I don't know what I'm worried about—or what I want. I... want a kiss. Would you kiss me?"

Jeffrey kissed her tenderly. He was getting more cautious about these kisses; after one of them, they either ended up in bed, or with him getting more frustrated than ever.

"I think I've found a perfect girl for you," Helen whispered.

"You!"

"No... a sixteen year old blonde called Barbara. Now don't say a word. She's the most beautiful thing you ever saw. Determinedly heterosexual, vivacious, sweet, innocent; oh Jeffrey... if I was a boy... damn! You _must_ meet her, and take her with you, or _something!"_

Jeffrey sighed. "Is she a musician?"

"No."

"Has she been through college?"

"No."

"Does she have two lovely children whom I adore to pieces?"

"Jeffrey! No."

"Does she live with a little girl who advises me to give her flowers?"

"Who?" Helen blushed prettily.

"Erin."

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Helen, at a loss for words.

"It's not your beauty that drives me crazy."

"Oh. My ugliness, then."

"No. Your soul. I just can't go off with a sixteen-year-old beauty and be happy. I'm sure there's someone perfect for her..."

"Oh Jeffrey," Helen said, clutching him tight, "this girl has the most beautiful soul. As soon as I got to know her, I told myself, this is Jeffrey's soul-mate. Anybody else would destroy her. It has to be you! Listen, I'll call her... and you can talk to her!"

# Jeffrey talks to Barbara

"Wait! Wait a minute; I didn't say I would! Helen, I don't _know_ her! I'm going."

"Hi! It's—er, Paula! Remember me?"

Jeffrey heard an excited female voice, but not what was being said.

"We had to leave in a hurry, Barb. Oh, it's a mess... Frankie was arrested for something she didn't do... She's totally innocent. But we thought they'd take the kids and put them in foster homes... Yes... exactly. But they're safe with me. I'm with friends in... yeah. How are you?... Where your mom?... Uh-huh."

It was a while before Helen steered the conversation to boys. Finally, she made the plunge.

"Barb, I have a friend with me, a good friend. I want you to talk to him! Well, just trust me!... Oh, about anything! Tell him what your plans are... Oh, he wouldn't; he's the soul of kindness! Okay? This is Jeffrey!"

"Hello!"

"Hi! I'm sorry, Jeffrey, but I haven't a clue what's going on!"

Her voice was clear, and incredibly expressive, and warm and gentle.

"Well, I was here visiting..." ( _Paula_ , said Helen.) "... Paula, and she said she knew this wonderful, wonderful girl in California who was pining for someone to rescue her from a dreary existence!"

"Oh!" She had a nice giggle. "That Paula! I'm quite happy here, actually! Well, no, I'm not. Did she tell about... about... anybody?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Well, it doesn't really matter; I don't want you to think that all I care about is boys, or men, or whatever. I was such a nothing before Steve and Paula came. Now I'm reading, I'm learning to play the recorder—that's a flute that you blow in the end, a really soft-toned instrument—and I'm getting interested in art."

"Great!"

"I wish I could see Paula! Are Penny and the girls all there? All safe?"

"Yes, all safe, except..."

"Frankie."

"Yes."

"She was a lovely person. Very quiet, but she had the prettiest, most expressive eyes. Steve was totally in love with her. I... well, yeah. God... Jeffrey... anyway... Tell me about yourself."

"Well, I'm a graduate student at the University of Rhode Island, studying for an MFA, like Paula."

"What's that?"

"A master's degree in music."

"Wow, Paula has an M.A.?"

"Well, yes."

"Oh wow. She's such a humble person! And tell me about your studies!"

"Well, it's about Bach and early music. It so happens that Paula is an internationally well-known expert on Bach. So I went to visit her and... I guess I'm a little in love with her!"

Helen was about to have a fit. She kept saying _don't, don't, don't! Oh goodness!_

"And I'm in love with Steve! Isn't that crazy? I know I can never have him... but there can't be anyone in the world like him. Gosh, I can't believe I'm telling you all this!"

"Oh, it's all right. Keep talking! Wait, I'll send Paula away, so you can tell me all the details!"

"Yes. Paula doesn't know any of this."

"Okay, this is private," Jeffrey told Helen.

"Jeffrey, I didn't mean you to talk for hours!"

"Well, tough. I'll pay the bill. Now, please!"

Helen reluctantly left, and found that lunch was ready, and sat down to eat. "He'll be along," she explained.

"Is she gone?"

"Yes! Go ahead!"

"Well... I fell in love with Steve, and I felt so guilty when I met Frankie and the children, I wrote him a note, and said, well... not to visit me and Mom again."

"Very proper."

"He stopped coming right away. But... I couldn't cope. I couldn't eat... it's a stupid teenage thing. I got sick, and then I got sick when I tried to eat."

"Aha. Happened to me too, as it turns out."

"Why?"

"Well..."

"Paula!"

"Yes!"

"Oh my god, you're the father of the baby! Her husband doesn't know!"

It got very strange. There was no way Helen could have prepared Jeffrey for the complicated cover story they had invented for Steve to disappear, and for Paula to arrive in his place, but Jeffrey managed to navigate the maze with the help of Barbara herself. In between filling in each other on the various details—some of them entirely fictitious—that they did not know, they also revealed to each other the tragic loves that had grown between each of them and Helen, in her various guises, and each began to appreciate the qualities of the other that came across on the phone: Jeffrey's kindness and sincerity, and Barbara's innocence and strong sense of morality, which she had to compromise when she found her passion for 'Steve' too powerful to endure.

"I only know that... Paula has the most wonderful soul I have ever known. I think if I never see her again, I shall die," confessed Jeffrey, at long last. That was the magic of Barbara: you couldn't keep secrets from her; you had to tell her everything, and she would forgive you.

"That's how I feel about Steve. But I'm not going to die. But I can never date these guys out here. After Steve... you know; I've never talked to a boy like I talked to Steve—or to you. I'm going to be celibate. I'll never marry. God, it's going to be hard... I don't know how I'm boy-crazy, yet I hate boys. I hate life. I'm all confused."

"I'm just Paula-crazy!"

"Well, you're not sixteen!"

"True!"

"If I can last out until I'm your age, I can handle the rest. Oh God... I made Steve touch my breasts... is this bothering you? I have to tell someone, and I guess it's you!"

"Well... I'm real uncomfortable, Barbara."

"Okay, I'll stop." She sounded really sad and upset, and Jeffrey felt like a jerk for cutting her off. But the thought of 'Steve' touching a sixteen-year-old's breasts was a little too much for him.

"I'm sorry!"

"No, I have to respect your feelings. Thank you so much for talking to me, Jeffrey!"

"Oh... I'm glad Paula connected us!"

"You're the only boy I have talked with, you know. Maybe you can keep me sane! No, I'm kidding."

They traded phone numbers, after Barbara assured Jeffrey that her mother would probably much rather she talked with a graduate student in Rhode Island than a high-school senior in California. When Jeffrey came to the dining room, lunch was almost over. Helen asked him awkwardly whether he'd like to come with her to the gynecologist. As he hesitated, Heikki, Penny, Alice (Sam's wife) and even Gena began to nod emphatically. "I guess I would," he said.

# The Doctor

They were driving out to the doctor's office, and Jeffrey was at the wheel.

"So what did she say?"

"She talked up a storm!"

"Well?"

"She got to the part where Steve grabbed her breasts, and I called a stop to it."

"Oh my god," Helen covered her face in mortification. "Oh Jeffrey, if you met her, you'd forgive me. Don't you understand? It's who I am, it's what I am! At least she's sixteen, Jeffrey! Barb is... a _woman_. Jeffrey, she's a delicate _flower_. She must never feel hardship. And you, too; you were made for a peaceful, settled life of culture, and warm family fellowship. Not poverty, not deprivation. And if I ever get out of this mess, I'll see that you two live a comfortable life. I _swear!"_

"Helen, after all you've been through, why can't _I_ suffer a little?"

"I think you've suffered enough."

"A little hardship isn't bad for anyone. I don't like the idea of this _little flower,_ Barbara. If she's worth her salt, she can take a little rough with the smooth."

"Well, rough is what she has now. She lives in an economically depressed community, unable to relate to the rough young fellows in her school; her mother is a construction-worker, bringing home just $900 a week, before taxes."

"Wow."

"I'm half in love with her mother, too. A wonderful woman, Carol. They'd adore you. But the social difference is serious."

"It's not the social difference. It's that... I'm in love with the _mother of my baby!"_

When Helen walked into Susan Cohen's office, the doctor knew at once that she'd been crying. Susan Cohen was a slim, silver-haired woman in her late sixties. She most definitely had Native American ancestry.

"My daughter has given me the low-down—no pun intended!"

She turned to Jeffrey and said he could be present the whole time. Jeffrey squirmed, but stayed. "We're not married, but he _is_ the father," Helen said.

"And you don't plan to marry?"

"No," said Helen, while Jeffrey said "Yes!"

Susan laughed merrily, as she got the ultrasound scanner ready. "It's usually the other way round!"

"Oh, well, our Helen is a thoroughly modern woman."

"Good for her," said Susan, and Helen stuck out her tongue at Jeffrey.

The gel was applied, and suddenly, there was the fetus on the screen!

"Well, he certainly looks in wonderful shape!"

"He? Is it a boy?"

"Yes; I'd say very definitely yes. See?" There was no doubt, the baby was a boy.

Susan wanted to perform a vaginal examination. It was then that she said she could see where the problem was. She explained that Helen's cervix—the opening of the womb— looked ready to dilate too early. The standard treatment, she said, was to sew it closed.

"There's a risk."

Jeffrey held Helen's hand, and faced the doctor. Tears pricked at his eyes.

"One: once the birth begins, she has to be rushed to hospital and the stitches removed, or we risk rupture of the uterus. A ruptured uterus usually kills the mother." They nodded soberly.

"Two: there's a risk that she'll go into premature labor right away when we begin to stitch up the cervix. Then all we can do is deliver the baby. Right now he isn't ready. But... despite that risk, I'd like to do it right now."

"This minute?"

"As soon as possible."

"How soon afterwards can I go to work?"

"I'd like you to rest in bed at least one whole day, preferably two. Helen you're an incredibly healthy girl. But... you're also an incredibly valuable person. If anything goes wrong, it's not just any old woman, it's Helen Nordstrom."

"Oh, Dr. Cohen, don't worry; I don't come from a family that likes to sue!"

Susan smiled. "But I come from a family that loves music, and admires you, Helen! I'm more afraid of _them!"_

They laughed.

"Can it wait until Friday?"

"Yes. Until then, we can fit you with a sling that puts the weight of the baby on your shoulders, rather than on your cervix."

It was a clever piece of engineering, and Helen saw its action at once. It was basically a swim-suit made of webbing carefully contoured to support the belly without crushing it. It felt wonderful, after Susan Cohen had carefully fitted it. Jeffrey felt odd to see Helen standing naked in front of a doctor, and to his surprise, Helen seemed to feel awkward too. Then he realized that Helen must feel an attraction for the doctor. What an incredibly topsy-turvy world.

Noticing her embarrassment, the doctor quickly handed Helen her clothes. "Relax, Helen; I've seen millions of naked mothers-to-be!"

"Oh, no... it's just that I'm so hideous and shapeless, right now... not that I'm vain, but..."

"You look absolutely lovely. The most beautiful pregnant woman I've ever had in my office!"

Helen held her breath. "Really?"

"And I'm also happily married, so..."

Helen covered her face and blushed, and they all laughed together. "I hate it when I'm so obvious!" Helen said. "Dr. Cohen, you're very attractive; I guess you know that!"

Susan Cohen laughed. "So it's true what they say about you!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Helen, gravely.

"You're a very patient man, Jeffrey!"

"Yes, he is," said Helen, kissing him on the cheek.

"Will you be here for the procedure?"

"Yes!" said Jeffrey, and "No," said Helen.

He stayed. Every day he helped her with the harness, went in with the family to school, helped Helen conduct the classes, with the permission of the Principal, ate lunch with Helen and Marion, and helped get her started with the band and the junior choir.

With the band, Helen knew the theory of all their instruments. Now she learned to play them.

Seeing Helen play their instruments, learning from scratch, shamed the young players into doing their best. The trombonists, a girl and a boy, were among the better players. Accustomed to getting away with sloppy playing, they resented the fact that Helen could tell an off-note. By Thursday afternoon, they were playing more or less in tune.

On Thursday afternoon, Bert Frederickson called Helen in a fit of anxiety. "Helen—can you help me with some math?"

"Now, now, Dr. Frederickson; you know you have to do your homework by yourself. Shame on you!"

"This is no joke; I can't remember how this stuff goes! It shouldn't take more than, say, 20 minutes."

"Come on over, then. And bring a calculator; we're all music folks here!" He said he would be right there.

It took an hour. Helen could see that Bert was in deep trouble.

"Dr. Frederickson: do you know any music?"

"No, not much; why?"

"If you cover my classes, I could do the math for you."

The talk turned to why they couldn't hire new faculty, and eventually to why their investments were not performing so well. Apparently their investments were all in Real Estate, which at that time was a very conservative sort of investment, which meant that it brought in very little in earnings. Helen said she could help the school invest its endowment more aggressively, and gave him Becky Singer's name and address, and said she would arrange for the consultation to be conducted free of charge. (This was also a clever way of indicating to Becky, and her mother, Dr. Martha Singer, where Helen was hiding.)

So Helen helped the 12th graders with the math lesson. It was simple Related Rates, but Bert had been in deathly fear of it.

"You _like_ this stuff!" the students accused Helen.

"Sure! Why not?"

"It's _icky!_ You're given a little here, a little there... it's just _grubbing around_ for stuff! It's _undignified!"_

"Well, listen. That's detective work. A little here, a little there, a name here, a face there, an address... You kids wanna try a puzzle? Okay. Professor Einstein is giving a true-false quiz. There are five questions..."

It was 3:00 p.m. on Friday, time to head over to Susan Cohen's office. After much discussion, they all went. As Penny said, "If anything happens to you, Miss Helen, I don't want to know second-hand."

There was even an anesthesiologist. Jeffery wasn't allowed in this time. They worked on her for an hour, and finally came out smiling.

"I may have been wrong," said Susan Cohen. "She may not actually need the sutures at all, so... I'm waiving my fee!"

"Oh. She'll insist on paying you," said Jeffrey, shaking his head, and Penny nodded.

In a little while, Helen opened her eyes. It was a beautiful sight for all of them. "I never thought I could long to see those mean little green eyes, Miss Helen!"

Helen only smiled, feeling dopey. The surgery site was beginning to ache. Dr. Cohen came by to tell her the good news. "It actually looks in good shape. I will check you in about a week."

Helen held out her hand, and Dr. Cohen took it. "I'm glad you're my doctor," Helen smiled. "You're so beautiful!"

"So are you, dear. Now, relax; I have an ambulance ready to take you home."

"Woo-woo!"  
"No, no sirens; this is just so you stay flat on your back until Monday."

"Okay!"

"Be good now!"

So Helen was taken home in style, for a hundred dollars or so.

# A call for Barbara

Jeffrey went into the basement, and locked himself up. He dialed a number on Helen's cell phone, and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hello, my name is Jeffrey Gibson, and I'm..."

"Oh! Jeffrey! Wait, I'll get her."

" _Jeffrey!"_

"Hi!"  
"Where are you? I called and called!"

"I didn't leave. We took Paula to the doctor, and they said she needed surgery. It was just today."

"Oh my god, my poor Paula! What's wrong? What kind of surgery?"

Jeffrey explained to Barb, who was almost frantic with worry.

It was amazing how much of Barbara's personality came through on the phone. Jeffrey got the impression of a sensuous, passionate girl who was keeping herself under careful control. Though she opened up to Jeffrey, he noted that she carefully sounded him out before letting loose.

He could tell that she needed to share the sex episodes that took place between her and 'Steve' with some sympathetic ear. Most girls of sixteen were already sexually active, but Barb could only re-live those moments in her mind. What she craved was not sex, but interaction with a male. She wanted to talk dirty with a nice man.

"It must be hard for you to be there... if Paula lets you... you know... it would be okay; but if she refuses to get a divorce... I feel sorry for you."

"Yeah. We kiss sometimes... and we do other things... I'm not comfortable talking about it..."

"I'm torn, too... I want to tell you about the stuff Steve and I used to do... or rather, I used to do to Steve... but it's like betraying him. Have you met Steve?"

"Well..."

"If you knew Steve, I wouldn't tell you. I don't want to affect how you feel about him."

"No, I... I've never actually met him."  
"Well... shall I tell you?"

"Oh... okay."

"We walked into the woods, and... I put his hands on my breasts. Oh Jeffrey... he was so tender and gentle! Then... I made him suck my breasts... Is this disgusting you?"

"No, no; people do these things."

"He sucked them... and I had an orgasm! It's stupid, I know... and then... he cried, and we cried together. We were so full of guilt. But I love him, Jeffrey. If you know what love is, you'll understand."

"I do... I understand."

"I'll never see him again."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"At least, there's Paula!"

"I think I'll see her again someday, but... anyway, I love Paula, but more like a sister."

Jeffrey blinked. Sometimes Barbara's self-censorship made her thoughts hard to follow.

"Jeffrey... would you tell me about you and Paula?"

"I'm too embarrassed..."

"Please!"

"Why?"

Barbara explained that she was a _very sexual person_ , but she could never go out and have sex with _some stud_ , as she put it, because she had to love him first. At least this second-hand sex was safe.

"Aha. So it's like, one of those phone sex things."

"What's _phone sex?"_

"You know—the 900 numbers!"

"What's that?"

God, she was innocent. And ignorant. Jeffrey explained awkwardly. "... You know? 'Tell me how it feels;' that sort of thing. It's big business!"

"Oh God. I guess that's what I want." She was silent a while. "I guess that's pretty disgusting, huh?"

"Well... I don't know. Whom are they hurting?"

"I don't know, either. But I don't want to hurt _you._ "

"Why not?"

" _Why not?_ I don't want to hurt _anyone_ , least of all you!"

"Why not, Barb? After all, you don't know me!"

"Of _course_ I know you...we've been talking, haven't we?"

"But we've never met, never seen each other!"

"It's better this way. The eyes can deceive. But the thoughts, the ideas are what are important. I can tell exactly what kind of person you are."

"Okay, tell me."

"Well-educated, of course; restrained, polite, kind... very kind. Responsible. A bit of a coward, I'd say—and I am, too, so it's not a put-down, okay? Hmm. I think you act on your emotions, but you like other people to act rationally. No, that's me. I'm seeing myself in you, I guess. I think you're warm and tender. You should hear the way you talk about Paula! I wonder if Steve talks about me in that way! Of course he doesn't."

"Now my turn!"

"Okay!" There was so much anticipation and eagerness in that one word, Jeffrey would remember it forever. In his mind Barb became simply a sweet, lonely girl, reaching out for companionship, nothing more. It was the moment he realized that he was falling in love with a voice.

"You're an innocent, sweet-natured girl, intelligent, vivacious, very reserved, easily frightened, with rigid moral values, a very healthy libido, who considers herself superior to her classmates. Gosh, I can't believe I actually said that!"

She sounded sad when she replied. "It's sad, but it's true. I should stop feeling that I'm superior and simply say: I'm looking for someone different. A civilized college boy. I have to go to college, and then to grad school. God, if Paula was here...I'd do all that. Paula made me feel I could do _anything_."

"You stick with that, Barb. I promise to help you."

"Oh, thank you, Jeffrey! You have no idea how hard it is to believe in myself. I know I can do it, if there's someone near to me who believes I can do it. Other than Mom; she believes in me, but... I need more. Thank you!"

"Sure!"

"Jeffrey?"

"Yes?"

"Would you please, please, please talk sexy to me? I know you don't know me, but... oh God... sometimes my body aches for sex so much... I feel like sliding a kitchen knife into my... you know... and fucking myself to death."

"Oh please, dear God, Barbara, don't ever say that again!"

"Jeffrey, it's _true!_ You have no idea how intense it is! Sometimes I want to... No. Jeffrey?"

"Yes?"

"If we were face to face, and I asked you for a kiss, would you kiss me?"

"I guess I would, yes."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!...Why did you decide to do it? Do you know?"

"Because you're lonely, and... I like you!"

"Yes... I'm lonely, and I like you too. I'd kiss you if you asked me." The last sentence was touched with a little shyness that she managed to get across.

"Okay, kiss me, then!"

There was a soft smack. "There!"

"We'd better stop."

"No, no, no!"

It got pretty steamy for a while, but Jeffrey talked her out of indulging in really disgusting phone sex, and she reluctantly agreed to be reasonable. There were miscellaneous snuffling noises. She had just accused Jeffrey of not caring, and he had gently reminded her that that clearly wasn't true.

"I guess I know you care... I'm just silly. Jeffrey?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to talk to you again. Please? Next time... I'll behave. I'll try not to put you through that again."

"It's all right, Barb... after all, I was the one who called!"

"Is it okay to say: I love you? Like, not _in love_ , you see? Just, I love you."

"That's fine. I love you too. Very much."

"I love you very much, too!"

"Sweet dreams, Barbara!"

"Good night, sweet prince!"

"Good night!"

"You hang up first!"

"On the count of three! One, two..." Click.

# Talking to Penny

When Jeffrey went up the steps, Penny was waiting for him, reading a book. She turned to him and smiled. He felt guilty, as if he'd betrayed Helen in her own house. He explained that he had used a calling card.

"That was very thoughtful, Master Jeffrey! I'm sure it would have been all right, though!"

"Don't call me _Master Jeffrey!"_

Penny smiled patiently. "I guess it's a defense... I'm close without being involved, I'm out of the running in... you know, the love equation! So I'm helpful without being a competitor!"

"So you're not Helen's..."

"No."

Jeffrey sat down near her.

"Penny, do you think I'm good for Helen?"

"Yes, I do. But... my opinion..."

"Erin wants me to make it with Helen."

Penny blushed. "Did she actually say that?"

"Not in so many words, but—yes!"

"Master Jeffrey, we all do! But it's what Miss Helen wants that matters!"

"But you would lose a lover!"

"Please; don't talk like that. It's really hurtful."

"But isn't it true?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't care. I just want to... be near her, look after her... She's so magical! She's a gentle, loving girl. Only sex confuses her. She needs to be looked after."

On Saturday, Jeffrey awoke feeling like crap. His lewd conversation with Barbara (it had actually gotten a lot more lewd than was reported above) haunted him. He had dreamed of a pretty blonde girl who masturbated while she talked sex with him on the phone. Then he was married to Penny, and thoroughly hated himself.

After Gena had brought him coffee, and kissed him shyly on the cheek, he washed up and dressed, and went to check on Helen. One look at her, and all thoughts of other women fled his mind. Helen sat quietly, twisting the edge of her sheet in her fingers. She looked tired, but she smiled at him. She let go of the sheet, and sat still, but there was a slight furrow on her forehead.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit. Could you get me some Tylenol?"

"That's all?"

"What?"

"That's all? Tylenol? Nothing stronger: Codeine, Demerol, whatever?"

"No, no; I can't. Any drugs I take, the baby gets, too! Somehow the drugs get across, Jeff."

He brought her the Tylenol, and she gratefully took it. Her green eyes caught him and held him.

"You're going to be a great Dad."

"After I finish school, will you let me stay with you?"

Helen sighed. "I want you to fall in love... and marry, and be happy, boy. I don't want you hanging around me, hoping for the impossible. I want to live a happy life with Michelle; if it doesn't work out, it'll be some other girl. Remember how it was in Philly? Michelle and I would be —sleeping— and there'd be a knock on the door..."

"Okay, okay, I was a pain. Don't rub it in."

Helen's face softened. "You were so innocent. You still are."

"Not really. A lot has happened."

"Like what?"

"Barbara and I are having phone sex." The words simply spilled out; he couldn't stop them.

"Are you, really?"

"Helen... she's an incredibly lonely kid. You didn't make it any easier."

"I'm crazy about her. If she came here and asked me to kill, I'd kill. Oh God... why did she have to be such a homophobe?"

"Is she, really?"

"I don't know, Jeffrey," Helen said, impatiently. "She _thinks_ she is, so she _is_."

"After you deliver, you could be Steve again."

Helen pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "After I deliver... I will be a mother." She stared the ceiling. "I won't have time for anything else. God, why did it have to be a boy?"

Jeffrey was hurt. "Don't you want to have a boy?"

"No, Jeffrey, I wanted a girl. But... I'll love it, just the same."

Jeffrey sighed. It was all too much. "I wonder if Barb would like to adopt a baby boy."

"Oh Jeffrey, please... I was only joking. If I love you, why can't I love my baby boy? I'll just put little dresses on him, that's all."

Jeffrey started laughing and sat down on the edge of her bed, and smiled down at his beloved. She smiled back, and he knew she loved him in her own way.

Gradually, the goings-on in the house began to impinge on them. Heikki had arrived. As soon as Jeffrey popped his head out, everyone came inside. "We weren't sure what you were doing!" Gena said, tactfully, and a little breathlessly. "Mom! Aunt Heikki has brought you a little lap-top!"

It was an old 1 GB of memory, 10 GB disc-drive model with a built-in wireless modem. In a minute, they were gone, leaving Helen and Jeffrey behind.

"Let's plan for the service," she said eventually.

"Okay."

"You'll be on your own!"

"Marion will be there. I wish I knew how you do that thing with the hands!"

"I just... hold her hands... I don't know; it's very intimate. I tell myself that I love her, and..."

"No, I couldn't do that."

Helen smiled and reached for the phone. She spoke to Dr. Frederickson, and soon had an idea of the theme for the service, and hung up.

"We don't _have_ to have an anthem, really."

"But I'd _like_ to!"

Helen smiled at him beatifically, and Jeffrey felt flushed with pleasure. She loved the fact that he wanted to do something extra; they were both like that. If he had brought it up, it would degenerate into an argument about how incompatible they were, so they both smiled moved on.

"Any ideas?"

"I was thinking... two big choruses in a row..."

"I was thinking the same, but you're here; that's the reason. You're not here _every_ Sunday!"

Jeffrey was deeply moved that Helen considered his presence a cause for celebration. In her eyes, he saw that she had inadvertently expressed precisely that. But he saw rather than an attempt to downplay it, a defiant tilt to her chin; she stood by it.

On with the task at hand. But the electricity between them made progress very slow.

"Let's do something in-between. A nice, tranquil, sedate chorus."

"In English."

"Yes."

"Like... O Taste and See?"

"Perfect! Gena and Jerry!"

"No, pick someone else. Gena shouldn't run away with the choir, Jeffrey. Spread it around."

"Okay, let's find the music."

They were a perfect team. It was as if they had one mind. They thought similarly, had similar tastes, or complementary tastes; they had similar attitudes to so many things. Decisions were easy, and Jeffrey was sure, they were good ones. They had it all worked out by noon.

"I guess I ought to get lunch going. You could tell me what to fix."

"No. Just stay with me."

Jeffrey's heart almost jumped out of his chest. She smiled, a mischievous smile, and he fell in love all over again.

All week long, Helen had tried to set aside the problem of Jeffrey's infatuation with her. They worked so perfectly together, it was easy when she let her mind wander, to imagine that they'd be together always, bound by the child, their genuine fondness for each other, and his love for Gena and Allie, and even Erin. Erin adored him, Helen knew. Somehow, over the course of the morning, Helen gave up the fight, and told Jeffrey that she would marry him. Jeffrey went almost berserk with joy, and Helen felt guilty. She had made him promise that he would not ask her to give up Michelle and Penny. He could not understand what Penny had to do with it, but Helen refused to elaborate.

The family returned, and crowded into the bedroom to give a detailed account of all they had done. Heikki looked incredibly sexy in her ski-suit, and the adoration in Gena's eyes spoke for itself. Helen saw Erin and Jeffrey have an excited non-verbal conversation, and wondered what all the excitement was about. Penny seemed to know, and she looked very pleased.

After lunch, Jeffrey got Helen's permission to call Barb on her cellphone.

"Oh Jeffrey, I thought you would never call!"

"Why?"

"Why, because, you know... all that disgusting stuff... I don't know; _you_ know!"

"It isn't disgusting, just... very intimate."

"Jeffrey... I want to see you. With my eyes."

"It's very expensive, Barb. I didn't pay for my own ticket. Marika arranged it. She's a friend of Paula's."

"I... I could drive up there... no, I couldn't." She sighed audibly. "When they were here, I felt like there were people who could help us with stuff! Now they're gone... it's just Mom and me."

"Yeah, they're like that, I imagine. Paula and I had a long talk this morning."

He told Barb the gist of Helen's decision, revealing as much as Barb needed to know about Paula. He had to tell Barb that Paula was in love with a woman, and no, she wasn't married.

"Gosh... she hid it well. I never suspected."

"Did she..."

"No! We were just very close friends. I used to hate gays, you know. But Paula is so _different_ , so normal, so... such a lady!"

"She is. I love her like crazy!"

"I understand. Oh man, do I understand, hah!"

"How's school coming along?"

"Oh, okay, I guess. I'm having trouble with math, that's all. I..."

"What's the problem?"

She described it, and Jeffrey showed her what to do over the phone. She couldn't believe how easy it was for him! She asked him for more help, in English, social studies, science, and literature.

"You know _everything!"_

"I've been through high school, Barb; I have a certificate and everything!"

"Now you're making fun of me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Jeffrey, where are your folks?"

"In Maryland."

"Do they know about Paula?"

"Er... not exactly. They know _of_ her, but that's different."

"Is she famous?"

"No, no. Just in her circles, I guess."

"She looks a lot like that Helen, the violinist."

"She does? No way!"

"Yeah, you know, if she was thinner, and younger, and not pregnant—yeah... they look kinda the same, I'd say."

"Not at all. I happen to have met Helen, and they don't look anything..."

"You _did?"_

"Oh yes. She visited Providence last year. Thin and tall, god... she was like a goddess, all golden and shining. Oh, you should have seen her!"

"I love her to bits. I used to watch her on TV..." She sighed. "We have her Christmas Special taped. Oh, it's the cutest thing; everyone in quaint 1998 clothes!"

"Yeah, I grew up with that one! She looks the same... look, I have to go. Talk to you later!"

"When will I see you?"

"I'll try and figure out something!"

"Call soon, Okay?"

"I will! Bye!"

"I love you!"

Jeffrey was taken aback. " _Why_ did you say that?"

"It just slipped out! I'm sorry."

"Barb... we're not in love."

"Okay."

"No. That's not what I want to hear."

"Jeffrey... you know I'll tell you anything that'll make you call again. I have nobody but you to talk to!"

"You have Paula!"

"I don't; I don't have her number. Wait... is this it...?"

"No, that's my Maine number. I'll have her call!"

"Oh, super! Please, Jeffrey, can I just say, I love you?"

Jeffrey sighed. "If it makes you happy."

"Wanna know something?"

"What, Barb?"

"I wrote your name, 'Jeffrey', on a Band Aid, and stuck it over my heart! It's there all the time! It's like my heart says 'Jeffrey' every time it beats!"

"I don't know what to say."

"I just wanted you to know. Bye, Jeffrey!"

"Bye."

What a mess. Jeffrey sighed. Between them, Helen and Barbara were playing Ping-Pong with his heart, and it was losing its appeal. He went into Helen's room to tell her that Barb wanted to talk to her.

# Sunday with Marion

Sunday came around, and Helen carefully got out of bed. She put on the support, and immediately felt a lot better. Jeffrey helped her at every step, and they drove to the school, and Helen walked slowly to the dining hall, and received a friendly but concerned greeting from a troop of middle-schoolers who were early for breakfast.

"I'm not sick, kids; I've just had minor surgery. No need to be worried!"

A group of girls enthusiastically stated that they were looking forward to the anthem. "Mr. Nordstrom is a keyboard _wiz!"_

"My name is Gibson, kids; _Gibson._ _She's_ Nordstrom, _I'm Gibson!"_

"You're not married?"

"No," said Helen, testily. "Not yet!" said Jeffrey, grinning.

" _I'd_ marry him, if he asked me!" said Jessica, a rather forward 9th grader.

Helen went up to the chapel early, and sat with Marion, and while they talked, she massaged. "Now I'll be fine, for about an hour," Marion said, sourly. "In this cold, nothing helps. I'm not as much use as I thought I'd be."

"You're conducting?"

"Oh, they don't need much today." Marion looked thoughtful. "When Jeffrey goes back, what's going to happen?"

"We'll figure something. You conduct, and I'll play."

"You know you're the choir specialist, Elly! With your talent, you should be making records! Oh my god... _that's_ who you are."

Helen looked at Marion, expressionless. Marion snatched her hand away from Helen's fingers, and moved away. To Helen's relief, she did not cause a scene, but it would have been clear to anyone looking at Marion's face that she wanted to be as far from Helen as possible.

They sat that way for what seemed like an eternity for Helen. Marion sat quietly, trembling slightly, looking ill. Bert Frederickson and Jeffrey looked at Marion expectantly, but she didn't move.

"Aren't you going up?" asked Helen, eventually. Marion made as if to say something, but kept silent. With an effort, she got up, and went into the vestry. Helen slowly stood, and went outside.

Inside, the service began. Helen stood out of eyeshot of those inside, and thought of what had happened. She had never encountered such intense dislike, and felt miserable and afraid.

The singing was wonderful. The prayers were barely audible, but the hymns were great. The anthem, a quiet one, was okay. Helen sighed with relief. She quietly went down the chapel steps, and out to the car, and got inside, and sat, shivering in the cold.

"Miss Helen! What are you doing here?" It was Penny and Allie, come to check on her.

"It's Marion."

"Yes, I saw her. What happened?"

"I guess she figured out who I was. She suddenly realized a lesbian had been massaging her hand." Helen's face flushed bright red. "I swear, Penny, I just did it out of pity."

"Of course!"

"At least, I _think_ I did!"

"Oh, for Chrissake. Jeeze, it's cold... where can we go to get warm?"

"I can't show my face. I can't face anybody."

"Give me the keys...let's just drive around."

She strapped Allie in, and started up, and drove slowly out the gates, and along the road. Helen pulled out a tissue and held it to her watery eyes.

At least she wasn't bawling. She had a little pride. But it hurt like hell. She had been very fond of Marion.

After a while, she realized that Penny was talking to her.

"Am I right?"

"What?"

Penny sighed. "You didn't hear a word I said!"

"No... no, I was thinking, Penny."

"That's okay, as long as it's not round and round in circles!"

"Yes... it was circles. Good guess." Helen could tell that Penny was controlling herself with difficulty. She loved Helen so much. "I'm sorry; tell me again, I'll listen."

"I just said... that as long as you knew in your heart that your motives were pure, you needn't make it worse by feeling guilty."

"Yes... you're right."

The car was getting a little warm as they turned back into the gates. A small crowd was watching from the top of the steps. Suddenly Helen felt bold. She felt reckless. She'd go and humiliate herself in front of Marion, and humiliate Marion in the process. She'd apologize profusely, and make her feel like a jerk.

Helen painfully climbed the steps again, and, ignoring the puzzled inquiries of the students and teachers, headed towards where she knew Marion would be: in the vestry. She didn't care. Let the Police take the children. Let them throw her in jail.

Gena and Erin were talking earnestly with Jeffrey, who seemed to be calmly replying to some question while he put away the music. The girls called after Helen softly, but she ignored them. She held Allie in her arms as if she were a talisman against all that would deny her the right to be a mother.

Bert Frederickson stood in the vestry, and Marion was talking to him.

"...Very poor judgment." It was the tail end of some emphatic declaration, and clear enough. Dr. Frederickson smiled awkwardly at Helen, embarrassed by Marion's attitude. He shrugged. Helen felt tears coming. She carefully closed the vestry door.

"I'd like to have this out, please. I can't work—I can't teach—with this thing hanging over my head."

"What thing?" Marion asked.

"I don't know. If you have questions for me, ask them now. It's only fair that you should ask them, and it's only fair that you should hear the answers. In my heart I'm satisfied with how I've conducted myself. Go on."

Marion flinched. "I don't even know enough to ask the questions. Better people than I have decided that you're... I don't know. I don't know!"

Helen took a deep breath. "Please listen to my story. I became friends with Gena and Allie's parents. They died unexpectedly within days of each other, and I looked after the children. I formally adopted them with the consent of their grandparents, and at the wish of their mother, before she died. Then I was intimidated into giving them up, with threats about revealing some indiscretions from my college days. Then Gena and Allie hated their foster family, and ran away, and came back to me..."

"I don't know, I don't care! I'm not able to verify your story, Elly, or whoever you are. This is a respectable school, and if there's a scandal here, fifty teachers will be out of a job! It's a simple matter of common sense!"

"But let me finish! They ran away..."

Marion replied through gritted teeth. "It doesn't _matter!_ It's irrelevant. You don't understand. You people only care about yourselves. Everyone else be damned."

"You're disgusted because I touched you."

" _Yes!_ How _dare_ you touch me?" Marion was trembling with anger.

"Touch you? What? _What_ did she do? Helen: what's this touching business?" Bert Frederickson was livid. He stared at Helen, believing the worst.

"She has Arthritis; I massaged her hand. I was trying to be nice! Oh God, I want to die! I can't live with such hate! I forgot that she might not want it! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay? I'll never touch you again! I'll never touch _anyone!_ It's just my _way!_ Oh God, I can't stand it anymore!"

"Marion, I'll see that she stays far away from you. Will that be all right?"

There was a knock on the door; it was Jeffrey. Behind him were Penny, Gena and Erin.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" asked Jeffrey politely.

Bert cleared his throat, and explained briefly, with a rueful smile. "Marion has realized who Helen is, and has taken offense to being touched by her. I think it's better all round if Helen doesn't touch _anyone_ , staff or students. I know she meant well, but people have different needs, for space, as we all know, and it's a general rule: no touching. Marion, it's her first experience teaching in school, and..."

"For the record," Jeffrey said, quietly, "I do not believe Helen has touched any students. Marion is the only one, and she only touched her hands, and with Marion's approval. Am I right, Marion?"

"Jeffrey, I had no idea who she was. I'm just very old-fashioned, and I don't like being touched by... homosexuals. It's just the way I am." She sighed, and looked at Bert, putting a lot of meaning into her glance. "It appears that it's too late to do anything. We'll just have to be very careful about the whole situation. It's very explosive. It might cause more harm than good to... raise an alarm now. I'm going home. I'm not going to talk to anyone. This is your business, Bert. I've been in this school for fifty years, and I care about what happens here."

Jeffrey seethed. "May I speak?"

"Go ahead, Jeffrey. I've given up, anyway," said Marion.

"Look. Helen doesn't live on campus. All her teaching is done in public. She's eight months pregnant. What's she going to do? You've both watched her teach for two weeks. My belief is that if Marion's personal feelings were not involved, she'd agree that Helen's presence at Ferguson promises nothing but the greatest benefit to the school. I find it absolutely incredible that prejudice and hearsay should be valued more than evidence and experience. Helen... I'm concerned that you should lie down real soon. This is a bad time to be standing around for hours." He put his arm round her, and she wept on his shoulder. Jeff guided Helen to the door.

"They don't listen to me, they listen to you!" Helen said, bitterly.

"Stop crying before we go out," he instructed. She drew a deep breath, and stopped crying. They walked straight out through the chapel, down the steps, and into the car. Penny took the wheel.

"I hate them all! I hate them all," spat out Helen. "God, how I hate them!"

As Penny drove home, Gena began to cry quietly, and Erin with her. Helen longed to get out and comfort the girls. Her whole uterus felt numb. Did Marion hate Helen and Jeff and the baby, too?

Helen stumbled out as soon as Penny brought the van to a stop, and turned to the two older children.

"Come here, girls... oh, please don't cry! None of it's your fault. People are just stupid, that's all!"

"Mom, please don't hate anyone! You're a loving person! You know that? That's why I love you... if _you_ hate people... it's the end of the world! It _is!"_

Just when Helen thought she would die of bitterness and shame, she felt a soft kiss on her arm. It was Erin, too unsure of herself to talk to Helen, but too loving to leave her feelings unexpressed. Helen felt the gall drip away. She stared at the little girl in amazement. Her blue eyes looked trustingly at Helen. "I think you're nice," she said firmly.

Penny waited until everyone who had a prior demand on Helen had had their turn with her, and guided her to a seat, and made her comfortable.

In the afternoon, Bert Frederickson paid a visit, and talked to Helen who was lying on the sofa.

"Helen, I'm sorry this happened."

"It's all right. It's not fun being a lesbian, Dr. Frederickson. I must keep my hands to myself. My hands, and my heart." She sighed. "Six months. I can do it."

"It was just a careless move. This is a very conservative society. You should have guessed this would happen."

"Guessed? How? I've never stopped myself from comforting someone in pain!"

"Well, now you know."

"Yes, indeed. Each new day brings new wisdom."

"Helen. I'm on your side, you know. I had no intention of stopping you from teaching. A contract is a contract."

Helen looked at him uncertainly. He looked back, with no hint of amusement or deceit. Helen had to assume that his intentions were honorable, and always had been. "I thank you," she said, simply and sincerely. "I'm grateful, and I'll try to give you honest service."

"Oh Helen, I know you have, and you will. I thought Marion was talking about some outrageous piece of foolishness."

Helen nodded, silently.

"How was the operation? Successful, all round?"

"Yes, thanks. I'll be fine. I'll stay here for the rest of the day... tomorrow I'll be fine."

Bert Frederickson only stayed long enough to chat quietly with Penny for a moment, and say a couple of words to the children. Jeff was inside somewhere.

After lunch, Jeff sat with Helen, and held her hand until it was time to leave. They said their goodbyes, and Penny drove him to the airport.

The next day, they drove to school. There was new snow on the ground, and the air was crisp. Helen and the two girls re-arranged the music-room so Helen could stay seated most of the time.

The bell rang, the rolls were called, the National Anthem was played, and her first class raced in at top speed, as they always did.

All night Helen had been rehearsing a short speech. She would declare simply that she was a lesbian. Yes, she was in love with a beautiful lady, and someday they'd meet her. Then she would respectfully ask them to follow a simple rule: she wouldn't touch them, and they wouldn't touch her. It wasn't that she didn't love and care for them; it was just a precaution.

They sat in a semicircle round the piano, and Helen looked at them, and she couldn't bear to say the words. Half of it was positive, the other half was negative! It reinforced the negative connotations of love between women, not the warm, loving positive ones.

She went straight into the lesson.

The morning wore on, and at noon, Penny brought her lunch. Now came the ordeal. Marion usually helped her all afternoon.

Penny ate, and left. Helen sat and waited for Marion. It was the first school day since she arrived that she hadn't eaten lunch with Marion.

Marion came in at around 12:40. Helen took a deep breath, and smiled. Marion smiled back uneasily.

"Hello, Miss Nordstrom."

"Hello, Marion. Please call me Elly."

"All right." She moved carefully and deliberately, stowing her bag and boots, and putting on the sandals that she wore indoors.

She came as close as she dared to Helen, and held out her hands with a wry smile. The fingers were twisted into agonizing shapes. Helen nodded, all her resentment melting away.

"I'll play, you talk. See, there's your copy on the table, in the green binder."

"Oh. Four sets... for the whole afternoon."

"Yes."

Marion had a nice relaxed style. The kids were instinctively better behaved, sensing that Helen wasn't able to deal with the usual nonsense. Marion had a rather dry contralto which she used effectively, and Helen concentrated on accompanying.

Marion was gracious in the way she treated Helen. Their manner towards each other warmed up gradually, until Marion was moderately relaxed by the last class.

"This is so easy! Having you at the piano makes all the difference!"

"Good. I'm glad. It's been a good day!"

"Yes. Well, see you tomorrow!"

"Thanks again, Marion."

The next day was similar. The morning was as usual, except that Helen stayed seated, even for the choir rehearsal. The afternoon had Marion come in. She brought her lunch, and ate with Helen and Penny. Her hands were worse, and she was distracted by the pain, though she tried to disguise it.

In spite of all her attempts to ignore it, Helen felt Marion's pain. By the end of classes on Friday, Helen was exhausted, not from teaching, but from seeing Marion suffer in silence. Marion hurried off with a quick word to Helen.

Helen tidied up, and dressing warmly for the drive home, left a note for Penny and the girls. Then she picked up her bag, and slowly walked to Marion's cottage.

"Elly! This is a surprise."

"May I come in?"

"Well... for a moment.... Elly, I'm not feeling too well."

"I know. I'd like to do your hands."

Marion looked away, and shook her head vigorously. "No. I can't."

"All right." Helen saw the bottle of pills she had been trying to open. She opened it and got Marion a glass of water, and a little milk, which was how she took her medication. Marion wordlessly took the pills.

"Penny and the girls are meeting me here," Helen explained. "I hope you don't mind."

"That's okay. Please sit."

Helen sat, not in her usual chair, close to Marion, but near the door. "I'm glad we've come through this so well. I'd like to be friends, Marion."

"I _am_ your friend. I'm just getting used to who you are, and what you are."

"Who I am? I'm Eleanor Nordstrom. My father is John Nordstrom, and I was named for Eleanor Murray Krebs, my mother's college friend. What I am—I'm a music teacher. I taught theory as a graduate student, and musicology, and math. And I'm a violinist, and... I had a choir."

"You know what I mean!"

"Oh."

"Yes."

Helen looked at Marion's face. She had kept all disgust out of it; all that remained was a colorless face that showed pure distress. Helen decided to gloss over her complicated love-life.

"In the abstract, I guess, it must sound threatening to you." To her credit, Marion didn't nod, but sat frozen. "...but what it means is that—I'm in love with this wonderful, sweet woman. The police arrested her, and I'm told she's been released, but is being watched by the FBI. I'm in love with a woman." She looked at Marion, and shrugged. "As a teenager I did some crazy things, but... I'm older and wiser now. I daresay you had a few escapades in your youth!"

"Elly, the story I heard was that... you were in the sex business. I... I don't call that an _escapade_."

Helen paled and flushed alternately. "The _sex business?"_

"Yes!"

"You mean the adult entertainment business!"

"What's the difference?"

"Adult entertainment is R-rated movies. The sex business is prostitution. I used to be a dancer... I danced nude. It was... twenty years ago. I was never a prostitute." Helen was flaming red now. "I could easily have been a prostitute, but I never was." Marion's expression of reproach was hurting Helen, adding to her upset over Marion's arthritis, which she couldn't help. Soon they'd have to stop talking when Penny and the girls arrived to get her.

"I know you need to be clear about the stuff I've been into. Well... nude dancing, lesbianism... nude photography."

"You make it sound so innocent. No sex involved!"

"Well, of course there was. I had sex with my friends. I wasn't married... I was a wild one. I never drank, I never had drugs, but I had a lot of sex."

Marion shook her head sadly. "We have less in common than I realized, Elly. I can be civil, but no more."

They heard voices outside. Helen rose, clumsily.

"Thank you for your time."

"Thanks for helping me with the bottle."

"Why don't you put the pills in an envelope?"

"Oh... I..."

"Let me open it for you."

There was a knock. "Let them in, Elly."

Every Friday afternoon, something drew Helen to Marion's cottage, where she talked to Marion about her college days. They were sort of friends, now. Not in the warm, affectionate way they had been, but a more cautious, formal kind of friendship. Two weeks after the big crisis, Marion hinted that her homophobia had been caused by an encounter in her childhood.

"What did she do to you?"

"She slid her hand up my leg."

"Eugh! How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"I'm very, very sorry."

"Why should _you_ be sorry? It wasn't you."

"So this was in the Sixties."

"The late fifties, yes."

"Who was she?"

"My English teacher."

"Did she try it again?"

"Yes... several times." Marion's face showed sheer agony. "She was my favorite teacher before. After that... I hated her, I hated English, I even hated school."

"I'm not surprised in the least!" Helen felt the burden of Marion's anger and disgust. Marion was more honest with her feelings now. She knew Helen well enough that she could express herself more openly. "Is she still alive?"

"Oh no; she died in '65, '70, something like that, I believe."

Helen took a deep breath.

"Marion... if I tried to be that woman, and I ask your forgiveness, will you try to forgive her?"

"Why, Helen? What's the point?"

Helen shrugged.

"It's stupid. I'm... past all that. I think you'd never do what that filthy woman did to me. Filthy, disgusting woman! Oh, how I hate her!"

"Please."

"No. Don't be silly, Helen." She'd started calling her 'Helen' now. "Let's talk about something else. We've given her more of our lives than she deserves. Certainly, far too much of _my_ life."

"Do you believe in life after death?"

"No—yes—what difference does it make?"

"Well, imagine that she loved you... she certainly desired you. Surely the hurt she caused is a burden on her soul. Imagine that her spirit watches you now, and your hate and disgust must be terrible things for her. I would imagine that after death, love and hate is all you feel. Who was there to love her? Let me help you set her free."

"You're crazy! I've never heard such nonsense! Helen, you're losing it."

"Indulge me!"

"No!"

"It's important to me. Let me do this, and I'll leave you in peace forever, if that's what you want."

"Helen..."

"I beg of you."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just listen, and pretend."

"Go ahead then. I can't believe I'm doing this!"

Helen closed her eyes for a minute. Then she looked at Marion, and it was as if Helen _was_ her teacher. Then she spoke in a voice thick with emotion.

"Marion... I'm deeply and utterly ashamed of what I did —tried to do— to you. You were a young girl, placed in my care, to teach and protect and nurture. But my loneliness and desire drove me mad... I lost control. But there's no excuse. I've hurt one of those I love most. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. You are a forgiving child, kind and understanding. Warm-hearted. Vivacious. Innocent. Beautiful. You have a beautiful soul! I can't bear the thought that you'll hate me forever! Forgive me, and release us both."

Marion held her face in shock. "Oh God... that's her. That's her to the last word. When she spoke, it was pure poetry. And that's how she looked at me. Oh... I'm so afraid!"

"Marion...forgive me. Say the words!"

"I forgive you!"

Tears poured from Helen's face, and Marion watched in shock.

"Helen... what's going _on_ here?"

"I'm so happy, that's all! Don't you feel good?"

"Yes... yes...it's as if I don't care anymore... as if it's not so disgusting after all!" she said in wonder. Helen nodded, face wet with tears, but very, very happy. "How did you _do_ that?"

"I tried to imagine what she must have felt, and let you deal with her as an adult. As an adult, she didn't frighten you, and you understand love, desire, loneliness; the conflicts that must have tormented her. Her desire to protect and love you and her need to touch, and be touched. That's the tragedy of child molestation: that the children don't have an emotional framework to understand adult motives. So it's an incomprehensible act of aggression. It's the incomprehensibility that's frightening and traumatic. Years later, even as an adult, the traumatized child still controls your memory of her."

Marion wasn't noting any of this. She was focused on one fact that shone out over the confusing details.

"I'm no longer afraid of you. I used to be, but no more!"

"All I want now," said Helen, wiping her hands on her dress, "is to massage your poor hands, Marion... I swear I have no designs on you. I swear on all that's holy!"

Marion held out her hands.

Later she asked Helen how she could tell what Miss Temple —that was her name: Edith Temple— would have said. "Vivacious, forgiving, beautiful..." she blushed, "...all that!" Gradually her fingers were loosening up. The pain was gradually letting up as Helen worked away. "You could have made it all up... but at least: _forgiving;_ surely that didn't make sense!"

"You _are_ a forgiving person. Back then, you didn't have what you needed to forgive. I think forgiveness is a habit, and it leaves its mark on your eyes. You're a happy person, and you've taught hundreds—thousands of kids. There's no such thing as a happy, unforgiving teacher!"

Marion laughed.

There was a knock on the door, and Marion called out, "It's open!"

The sight that met the eyes of the visitors was an amazing one. Helen was seated next to Marion, gently massaging her hands.

"That's enough, Helen. Thank you!"

"Please, give me the other hand."

"It's fine; you've done enough!"

Helen smiled at Marion sadly. "I'm embarrassing you, aren't I!"

"Oh Helen. Well, here, if it means so much."

Helen took the reluctantly offered hand. Marion was still not happy to have her hand held by a lesbian before an audience. Then little Erin peeled off her mittens, and took Marion's other hand, and began to imitate Helen, making Marion laugh. Penny smiled, leaning against the door. Gena slipped into the kitchen and put on a kettle of water. Penny followed her.

# Answering Machine

When Jeffrey got home to his apartment, he found his phone-message system full.

"Jeffrey, it's Barb!" She sounded shy. "I'm sorry to bother you; I'll call later. My number is..."

"Jeffrey, it's Barb again... I'll call back."

"Jeffrey, it's Barb Cromack. Maybe you're there, and feeling a little odd to answer. I... I just want to talk, that's all."

"Jeffrey, it's Barb! I _so_ enjoyed talking with you! Please call me again!"

"Jeffrey, I thought you were getting back this weekend. I'll call you at Paula's, but... I don't know... I should just talk to Paula, first, I guess. It feels weird. Anyway... when you get this, call me."

"Jeffrey; I'm not going to call Paula's number. So... when you get home, please call me, okay?"

"Jeffrey, it's Barb. Would you _please_ call me? Perhaps... I said things that made you feel... icky. I'm very, very sorry. We'll talk about whatever you want! I'll be careful, okay? I'll be very, very decent. I don't want you to feel I'm some kind of loose woman. Girl, I mean. I'll call back, then. I really want to talk to you."

"Jeffrey, please call me."

"Jeffrey, this is Barb again. It's like, real late; maybe you're asleep. I'll call when I get back from school."

"Jeffrey... you know who this is." There was a long pause, and sounds of crying. "I'm beginning to realize that... I'm just silly... too silly to really think of boys, or men or... anything. But, Jeffrey... something in your voice tells me that maybe we have a chance... and something in my heart says... it's not just sex, but something more... no, something... different. Art, music, ideas, conversation, people, children... try me, Jeffrey... I know I'm just a kid, but I want to be a wonderful woman. I want to do it all: study, learn skills, be a parent, a good citizen, a good wife, a partner. And to prove I'm the best... I'm willing not to touch anything but your hands for a year. It will be a test for both of us. Do you think I'm crazy? You must help me. I'll get a job, go to school part-time, maybe. Oh how I long to talk to you! I have so many ideas... but when I talk to you, I say stupid things. My mind gets onto sex... but you inspire me all the time." There was a pause. Then she spoke in a whisper, and revealed that she had learned how to masturbate, and the rest of the message went completely down the drain, and ended with a click.

"Jeffrey?" It was a hushed whisper, very quiet and contrite and fearful. "I'm so sorry. That was out of line. I apologize. Sorry... I was in a bad way. A classmate gave me a videotape... I'll tell you sometime. Please call me; I'm worried about you."

That was the last one. Jeffrey was wiped out. For one thing, Barbara had a magical voice, innocent and clear, but the way her tongue caressed her syllables made her voice very sexy. The masturbation phone call had him on the brink of an orgasm himself, but the next one was, strangely, even more erotic.

While he stood amazed, the phone rang, and he let it ring, hoping it was Barb, and he could listen in. It was incredibly intimate, like listening in on her private thoughts. It _was_ Barb.

"Hello, Jeffrey!" Sigh. "Where are you, Jeffrey?..." She sounded languorous, as is she was drugged, or masturbating. "You're on a plane... you're flying... I've never flown, you know that?... I'd like to fly... naked... through the air... no, not naked; dressed in a filmy robe, my hair streaming... I want long hair... long, long, long... my hair is too short. I'd fly low, slowly hovering over a body of a young boy... is it you? He's thin and innocent, white as snow..., and I just brush his chest with my breasts... and he lies there and laughs! Oh Jeffrey..."

"Hi Barb... I just got in!"

"Jeffrey!" The delight in her voice could never have been faked. "Were you listening all this time?"

"No, I just stepped in!"

"Oh God... delete all your messages! They're all from me! They're all dirty, filthy things!"

"Aha! You've been burning up the wires with your X-rated fantasies!"

"Yes! How'd you guess?"

"Well, you want them erased!"

"Oh, yeah! Jeffrey?"

"Yes?"

"Listen, eight students from my school are being chosen for a visit to Washington D.C. That isn't too near you, is it?"

"Well, only about a few hundred miles."

"Really, Jeffrey, that's not a lot, considering right now we're about 2,000 miles apart."

"I guess not, no."

"I'd like to see Washington, D.C...."

"What's it for?"

"Well, this airline offered our school the eight tickets to visit the Smithsonian... I guess one of our alums is a big shot in the airline. We'd get to stay in a hotel for 3 nights... it's really cool."

"So you're really coming?"

"No, silly; the kids who're going haven't been chosen yet! We have to try out. I need to give a 20 minute speech about the cultural influence of the Nation's Capital."

"Shall I help you?"

"You know this kind of thing, don't you?"

"Well, I only live half an hour from Washington D.C., that's all."

Jeffrey... where's Rhode Island?"

"No, my _home,_ where my folks live!"

"Oh, I forgot! I'm not usually this silly!"

They chatted for a while. It was easy, unlike with Helen, where every word and thought mattered. With Helen, each of them strained to fathom the other's subtlest thoughts. With Barb, conversation was lively and interesting and unpredictable, but as easy as —flying naked.

Somehow, they talked about sex quite a lot, but rather than being a depraved, pointless conversation with only prurient value, it helped to explain their relationship to each other, and to Steve/Paula.

Presently Barbara declared that she was feeling so horny that she would have sex with anything that moved. If Paula asked her to have sex just then, she said, she'd do it.

"Oh, Barbara..."

"I know me. This is why I want to meet you... I think I would love you, and... the thought of you would calm me."

"Probably would... I'm not a hunk."

"I'd like to watch you... making love to Paula!"

"You're an animal!"

Barb laughed. "Aren't we such a pair? How does it feel like messing with the mind of a teenager?"

"Delicious! Actually, I think you're messing more with my mind, Barb!"

"Jeffrey... I promise you... if you marry me, I'll be delicious _forever!"_

# The Grammys

Helen had released several record albums the previous year, with permission from several orchestras with which she had performed, including the Chamber Orchestra of Ohio, a little experimental orchestra that she had started while still in college, but which had taken on a life of its own after she had left, and with sundry other orchestras around the country. This is what Marika and Lisa did: they made field recordings, of live performances. Their claim was that they could record anything, anywhere. They had invested in some amazing microphones, not very expensive, which had on-board media, and which could be set up almost anywhere, and which recorded at very high bitrates. The girls would merge and mix the audio streams later, in their studio. Now, of course, the technology is commonly available, but at the time that Lisa and Marika had begun their little company, it was cutting-edge technology.

Helen had also made recordings with her own little orchestra and choir, the _Impromptu Orchestra and Chorus_ , and the Bach B minor Mass had sold so well, it had been nominated for a Grammy Award. The Academy was furious at being unable to have Helen Nordstrom present at the awards, but Helen won two awards anyway, and accepted via an Internet phone. The awards had been televised with clips of Helen performing, and still photographs of her. People were buying her discs in droves, and pirate copies of her violin performances were apparently being sold on the Internet.

That night, as Helen tucked Gena in bed, and she had told Helen how she, Allie and Helen were a team, and with Penny and Erin, too. She unexpectedly said, "Someone is looking after us. I'm beginning to believe in God, Mom."

Helen said nothing. That vague belief in a good God was something that came from both of Gena's mothers. And to her surprise, Helen realized that she wished for Gena greater things than she wished for herself. They kissed goodnight, finally, and Helen went to bed.

The talk in Helen's classes all the next day were about the awards, especially in the earliest classes. A lot of the talk was about the images of Helen they had broadcast on the screen.

"Isn't she cute? So tall and straight—like Joan!" Joan was the queen of the school, a bright girl, the idol of all the girls, and captain of the girls' soccer team, and the desire of all the older boys. "But the hair! It's thick and curly, like Nancy's!" And so on, and so forth. When they asked Miss Nordstrom, she said she believed that they could do greater things than Helen, and went onto something else.

"You talk like her!" said one seventh-grader, with a keen ear, and Helen said that maybe it was a regional accent.

James

As Friday came near, everyone wished Helen luck, and all day, teachers stopped by to hug her, and tell her that they'd be thinking of her. The students had given her lots of cards, wishing her luck, until her desk was full of them.

While Marion and Helen tidied up for the weekend, they talked about the impending delivery.

"Good luck, Elly. You know I want you back safe and sound." Marion clasped her hands together. For two weeks, Helen had massaged them daily, and they were close to being fine. They were smooth and straight.

"Mom! Hi, Miss Marion!"

"I'm almost ready, girls! Well, Marion..."

Marion took Helen's hand in both of hers. It was the most intimate thing she had done in weeks.

James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson was born around 11 p.m. that night. Penny held Helen's hand while Heikki fetched Jeffrey from the airport, and then Jeffrey stayed with Helen. The cervical sutures were removed, and within moments, Helen got her first contractions spontaneously. Jeffrey's head was in turmoil, because on Monday night, Barbara would be arriving in Washington D.C. with seven other kids from her school.

# Penny's Secret

Penny had been keeping a secret. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago, and kept it from everyone, including her husband and her child. After she had met Helen, she had lived in fear that Helen would discover the secret because of how her breast felt during sex, but Helen did not have a clue. A little after Easter, Penny began to feel very ill indeed, and she could not keep it hidden from Helen. She waited until Friday, and told Helen everything privately. Helen blanched, but kept her composure, and they went in to the big medical center in St. Paul, though Penny thought it would be enough to visit the emergency room at the local hospital. The girls were not too concerned at this stage. They said that they would keep Penny overnight for testing, and the family returned home.

On Saturday morning, a call awoke Helen, and she was told that Penny had died in her sleep.

The girls were standing outside the door, and they knew from Helen's face what the news was. All four of them were in tears, and shortly baby James began to fuss, and Helen picked him up, and tried to comfort the infant as well as she could.

She reached out to Heikki, the only one she could think of, and Heikki came, and they couldn't think of what they could do except to lie quietly, while Helen went in to the hospital to make funeral arrangements.

Little Erin was unnaturally calm all through Saturday, except for displaying grief and anxiety when they had to go to the hospital, and then to the funeral parlor, to witness the last rites for the wonderful woman who had shepherded them through that horrible year. The children tried to be brave, but it was hard, because Helen looked clearly devastated, just as much as Erin was.

Early on Sunday, Erin crept into Helen's room, and came to stand by her bed. "Miss Helen . . . are you awake?"

"Yes, darling," said Helen, making room for her on her bed. She had planned to invite the little girl into her bed, but had got distracted, and anyway, Gena seemed to have taken charge of her little adopted sister. "I can't imagine how sad you must feel!"

Erin's face had been grave, but now it crumpled, and she began to weep softly. Helen put her arms around her, and silently comforted her. She had been so overwhelmed at her personal loss, that she had almost forgotten what it must be like to lose a mother. Helen's mother had died in a freak accident when she wasn't much older than Erin, but here the little girl had conducted herself with almost unnatural control.

After a long time, Erin confessed that her greatest reason for being upset was that Penny had gone without giving her "any instructions!" Helen realized that she had not gone through Penny's personal effect, and Helen was sure that there would be _instructions_ there; maybe for Erin, but surely for Helen.

There were. In a beautiful and brief letter to Helen, parts of which she instructed Helen to read out to Erin, she commended Erin to Helen's care, and Helen had now three daughters, and one little son.

# Acting Principal

One day, principal Bert Frederickson was ill, and didn't come to work. It was getting close to the weekend, and Helen decided to call him at home. There was no answer, and Helen began to suspect that he had got into an alcoholic binge. She headed out to his home, close to the school, and knocked on the door, which was wide open. She went inside, and found Bert passed out, holding an empty bottle of alcohol.

Helen was with him a long time, and we need not go into the details of what transpired there. It is sufficient to say that Dr. Frederickson was both a chronic alcoholic, and clinically depressed. Once he had regained consciousness, Helen discovered that he was intensely attracted to Helen, convinced that Helen could not possibly reciprocate his feelings. The breaking point had been reached with Helen giving birth, and his feeling that she having rejected even a young and talented man such Jeffrey Gibson, would never give Bert a chance.

Helen persuaded Bert to ease off the alcohol, and to take a few days off, and seek medical help.

Bertie Frederickson had not appointed an assistant principal. By a convoluted sequence of circumstances, it so happened that the only one who was acceptable to the school faculty was, of all people, Eleanor Nordstrom. It may have been that the teachers, for cynical reasons, did not want the responsibility, despite the increased salary, or it may have been that Elly (as they called Helen at the school) was inspiring them with how well she related to everyone in the school, and how smoothly things had been moving for a couple of months.

Bertie had been admitted to the hospital, and they had found that his liver was in critical condition. Bertie maintained that it was all silly fussing, but gave up pretending that it was all a joke when faced with the possibility that he might not survive the school year.

"There are worse things that could happen to the school, than to have you replace me as principal," he said.

"And have me sent straight to jail, and my children taken away from me? You've forgotten I'm . . . a fugitive?"

"Oh, don't be silly; nothing's going to happen to you!" But he didn't sound so sure.

He was brought home by ambulance, where Helen had to help him dress for work, and came in to the school just long enough to call a special staff meeting, and discuss the appointment of an acting principal. Whoever it was, Bert reminded them, would have to see the school through graduation, summer school, and the usual summer maintenance of the school buildings. To her dismay, Helen was unanimously approved to be the acting principal, and when she protested, everyone solemnly promised to help her in every way. Bertie was conveyed back to hospital by the ambulance that had been waiting.

A teacher had to be hired to take care of the classes Bertie had been teaching, but in all other ways, there were few changes. Helen had to sit at the principal's desk all the time that she was free, and for a while it seemed that there were only routine matters to deal with. Then she discovered the most annoying aspect of the principal's job: discipline. Bertie's secretary, Marnie, was very helpful, and explained how Bertie had handled the problem. She got on-the-job training with the first student who was sent in to her.

Helen listened carefully to the problem and assigned a punishment. Marnie told her that punishments were often to help out at the office after school, as well as to lose some minor privileges, such as playing outside during lunch break.

It was already 3, and fortunately the day seemed to be at an end. Helen read the notes in the blue folder (where she had put the instructions Bertie had written out for her) and realized that Bert had long seen this day coming. There were careful suggestions on how to deal with practically everything: problems with discipline, problems with uninvolved parents, the buildings, food, everything.

At 3:20 Marnie came in, and she and Helen exchanged a long look of commiseration. "How you doing?" Marnie asked, not unkindly.

"Oh well, pretty good, considering," Helen replied thoughtfully. "How do I remember what punishment I gave whom? What's all this..."

Marnie explained that Bert kept two sets of records; one for the daily punishments, and an official one, for serious and repeated offenses. She offered to help Helen keep track.

She smiled. "I know this is hard; I'll help as much as I can!" Helen smiled gratefully, and Marnie smiled back, but quickly looked away. Helen wondered what that could mean.

Gena and Erin marched in, looking for Helen, and stared to see her at the Principal's desk.

"Wow! I guess she got a promotion!"

"No, no, Dr Frederickson is ill, that's all."

"Hey, Mom, do you get to give detention and stuff? Huh?"

Helen shook her head, wearily.

They walked down to the music room, all dressed and ready to go home, and met with Marion, and Kim, a part-time music teacher who had been hired to take some of the teaching load off Helen, and a number of other teachers who had come looking for Helen. They were all apologetic.

"We didn't think you'd be put on the spot so suddenly," they said, looking remorseful. "This is a mess for Kim here; now she's going to be as busy as you used to be!"

"No," said Kim, "Elly's gonna teach four hours every day. So she's going to be —I don't know—real busy, I guess!"

Helen looked at Marion.

"Elly, I'd be glad to help. And let's look for a way to have Allie taken care of, so you only need to worry about James."

"Yes, it's getting too tricky to keep them both."

"But," said Kim, vehemently, "if you wanted to keep James with you, I'd say that was wonderful. He's so quiet."

There was disagreement about that. Half the teachers there—about four—agreed, while the others disagreed. Helen bent her head and declared she was keeping James. "If I'm seen as not doing the work right, then I'll answer to that accusation when it comes."

After a quick early dinner, Helen and the whole family headed out to the hospital.

Bert had a private room, and they were allowed to visit. He looked very poorly, hooked-up to the drip, and squinted at them in the half-light.

Clearing his dry throat, he greeted them.

"Hello, the Nordstroms! Checking out the old wreck, eh?"

Helen smiled and shook her head, and gently stroked his brow. "How are you feeling?"

"How'd it go?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Oh, fine; everyone is pulling tighter, so far."

"You'll do fine without me," he said, and grinned at the girls. "How are _you_ two?"

"Fine!" they chorused.

It was an awkward visit, and Helen realized Bert preferred to be left alone. He definitely didn't want the children visiting him. She promised to call him when she got home, and they left.

"Man, he was so _mean!"_ declared Gena.

"No he wasn't, he just wasn't too friendly," corrected Erin. "He's an important man, not our _friend,_ Gena."

"Bert is very sick," Allie gave her diagnosis. "He has a fever." Gena and Erin cracked up, much to Allie's delight.

Helen hugged baby James. Bert had not even glanced at the infant. He was very much preoccupied with himself, she realized, and probably blamed Helen for being in hospital.

When Helen called that night, Bert was waiting.

"Hi!"

"Thanks for visiting, Elly. I was in a bad mood; I'm sorry!"

"I didn't _think_ you were, at first, but I realized pretty quick. Well you're sick, Dr. Frederickson; of _course_ you'd be miserable."

There was a slight pause before he replied. "Wait, what happened to Bert? What's all this Dr. Frederickson stuff?"

"I didn't want to... to presume..."

"Oh, _please_ presume!" He seemed to be eating something. "I hate being in bed, out of circulation—I _hate_ it!"

"You have that nice TV; why don't you watch it?"

"I never do; I'm not a TV person."

"What about a computer? Shall I bring you yours?"

"What can I do? I feel so hamstrung."

"I'm sorry. I feel responsible for your predicament. I thought it made sense at the time."

"Well, you've probably saved my life."

"Oh, you know very well you had to take the first step. It was probably the last difficult thing you've done in a long series of difficult things, I'm finding out."

"Tell me what's been happening."

Helen told him. She'd have liked not to bother him with details, but she realized that he needed to feel in touch. He neither approved nor disapproved of the things she had done. She knew that if she wanted, she could call him at the hospital and get advice.

It was nice to talk to him. She hung up, and wondered whether they could ever be more than friends. Would she like to live with this man, now more than sixty?

Joan came for her violin lesson, and she got Allie and James settled, and she, Erin, Gena and Joan went through the one-hour lesson. Gena and Erin had perfect form with their little baroque violins, while Joan was almost as good, and well prepared.

The next day, Helen planned everything out carefully. She put the younger children in a little pen in the office, and waded through Bert's stuff, making calls, announcing over the PA, receiving visitors, and so on. She had to take breaks to teach Bert's calculus classes, and then it was time to go to the music room.

By now everyone was accustomed to seeing Helen walking the halls, carrying James in his carry-seat in one arm, and holding Allie's hand with her other. When she was in a hurry, she'd carry both of them. Everyone kept suggesting that she should invest in a two-seat stroller, but she worried she wouldn't be able to get it in and out of the car.

She began to notice the older students. With Penny gone, she was beginning to think them increasingly in a sexual way. The weather was getting warmer, and the girls were lightly dressed. In the closed environment of the school, Helen was nervous about what could happen. On the surface, she showed nothing. She was never alone with the students. Memorial Day had been difficult, when she and James had been surrounded by a bunch of older girls, all in their swimsuits, and Helen had got very anxious. How did men _cope?_

After lunch, Helen got barely settled in the Principal's office, when trouble started. The woman teacher in charge of the girls' dormitory stopped by on her way to class. One of the girls, a 10th-grader, had got out of the building at night, and had gotten caught trying to get back in through a window.

"What's the normal procedure?" Helen asked.

Mary-Ann, the teacher, shrugged. "One warning; sometimes, dismissal. I'll get her here at three."

"Who was she meeting?"

"Didn't tell. Very tight-lipped. Maybe you can loosen it."

"I'm not going to deal with it all by myself, Mary Ann. I'll talk to her, and then I'm calling you."

"Sure, Elly."

Then it was a couple kissing in the hallway. Then it was a boy being unruly in class.

The choir was scheduled for practice at 4, and the band at 7. Helen was anxious about both. In addition, there was a drama festival with four brief one-act plays on the day before the concert. It was to be four days of presentations for the parents, culminating in the Honors ceremony and Graduation, all just two weeks away.

When the night-wanderer arrived, she was tight-lipped with Helen, too. She did not reply to questions such as where she had gone, whom she had been with, or whether she had done this before.

Helen explained calmly and reasonably that they _had_ to know; it was obvious that if girls started wandering about at night, people would stop sending their daughters to school there. "I wouldn't send Gena here, if I knew that the girls didn't stay in their dorms at night!"

Silence. Helen stayed outwardly calm, though inside she seethed with anger and frustration.

Then she relaxed. It was out of her hands; if the young lady was unrepentant, they couldn't let her stay. She smiled politely at the girl, and tidied her desk, and called for the Warden. The girl looked a little taken aback at Helen's behavior.

"You must be relieved to get out of this place," Helen grinned. "It really doesn't suit some girls, I know. Justine, I want you to know that I'm not your enemy. I'd like you to write to us, and we'll send you all the news..."

"Miss Nordstrom, I can't go away! My parents would kill me!"

Helen stopped grinning, and looked concerned. She really was a nice girl, just stubborn and adventurous.

"I'll help all I can. I'll talk to them, and explain that, as far as we know, nothing really _happened_. If..."

"But if nothing happened, _why_ are you sending me away?"

"Justine, our rules are clear. Whether something happened or not, if you break the rules, you have to be sent home. We're not trained detectives, Justine; I can't be going round the grounds with dogs..."

"But nothing _did_ happen! I swear! We were just kissing under the apple tree! Swear to God!"

Helen was angry. She was angry that Justine vacillated between defiance and cooperativeness, angry at herself for expecting a 14-year-old to be mature and consistent.

"Let's start over. You _want_ to stay."

"Yes!"

In the end, Helen got a plausible story out of her. Justine and she worked out a plan for penalizing her, as well as a verifiable program for improved behavior. They shook hands on it, and Justine left with a sealed letter for the Warden.

By the weekend, Helen knew that Bert wasn't going to be back for Parents' week and graduation. Their visits at the hospital were usually tense at best, and often stormy. Helen realized that she was being emotional with Bert. She tried to be calm and relaxed, but he incited her with some remark about the school. It was as though Bert hated the school when Helen tried to ask him for an idea to improve something or other, and when Helen complained, Bert couldn't bear to hear anything critical about the school.

Finally, Helen turned to leave. "I'm making your condition worse," she said, as mildly as she could, and ushered the kids out.

"Gena!" called Bert. "Keep the little ones outside for a second, will you?"

"Sir?"

"Go wait in the reading-room, kid. Take Erin and Allie and the baby!"

"Oh, okay," said Gena, looking at Helen questioningly, and Helen nodded, closing her eyes.

"Please come here... Elly."

Helen turned and took a step closer.

"Please... come here," he repeated, indicating a spot close to the bed, on his right. She shook her head. "Then close the door, please."

Helen complied. He spoke. "What do you want me to say? That I love you?" The words came out reluctantly, almost dragged out. His face was flushed, and there was perspiration on his brow.

Helen managed a smile. "I'm sorry; I guess I'm just stressed out!"

Bert laughed and covered his face. "You're doing fine, you're doing okay," he said wearily. "It's just that... I want so much to be back, to see your moment of triumph..."

"There's no triumph; things are barely dragging along; it's all going to hell in a hand basket."

"No it isn't; it's better than ever! Better!" Helen shook her head. " _Yes!"_ insisted Bert. "You never see it; that's why it looks terrible."

Helen sighed. It was possible. But over the next week, when she had to do the end-of-year work for both the principal and the choir and the band...

"Did you call a staff meeting?"

"Er, no. Should I have?"

"Just do it. Divide up the work. Let 'em decide who does what. Appeal to them. They like you. They'll help."

"Okay. I'll try that."

He nodded. She bent and kissed him, and he seemed to shrink away, and Helen wondered what that could mean. But things seemed to be all right between them once more.

They had come home in somewhat somber mood, and Gena and Erin went off to do homework without being prompted.

The next day was Sunday, and Helen would be in charge of the service. She called Sue Reinecke, the honorary chaplain, and asked her to help. To her surprise, Sue backed out. Helen asked that Sue should at least lead the prayers. "Aww," said Sue, "you do such a nice job with them! _You_ do it!"

"I've never done them!"

"I... I was told that you led the prayers at breakfast one day."

"Oh Sue... listen. I'll conduct the service, but _you do the prayers._ This is the acting principal."

"Well, jeez, if you're going to pull rank on me..."

"Yes. I can't do everything."

"May I get kids to help?"

"Of _course!"_ Sue sighed with relief, and rang off.

"Mama. _Play_ with me," lisped Allie, as Helen idly tickled the baby. Helen turned to look at Allie, and felt a pang of sympathy for the child. From being Helen's pet, the little girl had become the older sister to this little person, James, and by and large, she endured the change of fortune very well. But today, even her patient heartfelt neglected.

Helen said that she would play anything Allie wanted. Would she like to help with supper? Allie looked at her doubtfully. It sounded too much like work.

On weekdays, Gena helped with the food; Helen simply could not do it alone. Today, though, Gena was hidden away somewhere. (Helen did not know that she was helping Erin with her homework.) Helen decided that she wasn't made for working all day, and running a home for four young children all night.

"Gena?" she called, and Gena came hurrying. "Would you help me with supper, kiddo?"

"Sure. We were doing homework."

"Oh. Well, this won't take long. Grate me a little cheese?" Erin joined them, and the four of them cooked, Allie 'helping' in her own way. It felt ridiculous for all five of them to go everywhere together, but what was she to do? At least she should get a couple of seniors to babysit for her for a little while, Helen thought.

Helen simply chose her favorite hymns, without regard to theme or season. They were all happy hymns, tuneful and joyful hymns of praise. The choir went through them all quickly, and Helen selected a couple of readings that she liked. She did not know her as Bible well as she ought, she felt, but she knew where to find her favorite passages. Allie thoroughly enjoyed the time she spent with her babysitter: Jerry's roommate, Arthur.

Our gang was invited by the wardens to breakfast at the school the next morning. "You've got enough to do, you don't need to be fixing breakfast on Sunday, too," they said. "You just come on over, and bring the kids!"

Everyone was up and ready, to drive over to the school on Sunday morning. It was a luscious breakfast. Then everyone looked at Helen. She suddenly realized that she was in charge. She tried not to show how annoyed and frustrated she was. Someone more experienced should have been in her position right now. Had they no sympathy for a single mother of four?

A senior student called David was firmly established as organist, and Marion was directing. The choir was not problem; they were singing a modern setting of a psalm.

Helen looked nervously at the clock. It was past time. She had worn an old brown dress, and felt dowdy. She wasn't going up to the pulpit; she would conduct the service from the lectern.

She looked out over the congregated members of the school; the chapel was packed. She smiled at the familiar faces in front, and got grins back. She announced the first hymn—a favorite at chapel—and David launched into it. She was pleased at how well they sang.

There was Sue's prayer, a reading, then another hymn, and another reading, and so on, until it was time for the brief address the principal usually gave. Helen leaned on the lectern, and looked out over the sea of expectant faces. She wondered what to say.

She explained that this was her first time doing this, and they smiled encouragement. Taking a deep breath, she reminded them of the parable of the talents. She said Dr. Frederickson was ill in hospital, a little like the Master in the parable. "I realize that the Master was supposed to be Jesus, but let's stretch it a little; Dr. Frederickson is the Chief. We have all been given some responsibility, especially me. We can do three things. We can mess things up, run riot, and leave the place in a shambles. Or we can simply do almost nothing, the minimum that we must to avoid getting in trouble. Or we can do our best, to make everything as good as possible, giving back double for what we've been given!"

Whatever the students and faculty had expected, this wasn't it. Compared to the other faculty, most of them big, tall people, Helen looked very average, even a little frail.

The last hymn was sung, and Helen pronounced a benediction. After a few moments of silence, they all came to Helen, to give her a hug, or a pat on the back. A couple of them remarked how similar her style was to that of Bert Frederickson, and a couple of others said that it was a refreshing contrast. Helen was amused, but agreed with both opinions, and thanked them.

She sat down with David for a quick lesson. He was becoming a competent organist, and all she could do now was to steer him towards the best music for him. These days he was playing Bach preludes and fugues for the recessionals with confidence.

The children had gone home with Marion. After the lesson, Helen was surprised to find a couple waiting for her; it was Eric Richardson, and his wife Stella. Stella offered to babysit for Helen.

"Wonderful! What times?"  
"Any time. Eric and I are up around six, and really, I'm ready by six-thirty." They lived in one of the faculty cottages within the school compound, and they described where it was. Stella had four boarders, all boys, but when they were at school, Stella had no duties. She loved children, and arrangements were made quickly. "I can use the money, and I can use the company, and I _know_ you can use the help!" she said. Helen smiled and nodded, and they shook hands on the agreement. Stella had big, strong hands, and stood a tad taller than Helen. She had the freckled grin of a tomboy, and seemed to long for the company of kids.

Joining the children at Marion's cottage, Helen told them the news about the arrangement with Stella. Allie wanted to know who she was, and Helen told her it was a lady who lived close by Marion's house. Asked if she'd like to meet the lady today, before she went over on Monday, she said a cautious yes.

Helen smiled at her youngest daughter. It was amazing how the sweet-natured baby was developing into a sweet-natured little girl. She had a pretty heart-shaped face; and with straight bangs, her pretty rosy mouth, and thoughtful brown eyes, she was a delight. Allie's birthday was Wednesday; she'd be two.

They stayed and chatted with Marion a little longer, and ran around the cottage in which they were quite at home. Marion had toys for them, and they were putting some puzzle together while Helen held James in her lap and talked to Marion.

Helen consulted with Marion about what to say at the staff meeting.

"You'll be fine," Marion said. "I was listening this morning, Helen; you have a gift for speaking." Helen blushed, but Marion stayed serious. "Not oratory—though you may be good at that, too—but just plain speaking. It was super. It put everyone on their mettle. Very nice."

"But I was steering clear of my problems. At the staff meeting, it will _all_ be—my problems."

"Not necessarily. It will be about _getting the work done_. How can we get together to have the best Parents' Week ever?"

"Yeah... yeah; I guess I should stop trying to think of it as _my_ problem."

"Absolutely, dear. You're doing wonderfully, for all you have to work with. I really hope Stella works out; from all I hear, she should be wonderful. Loves kids, does a great job with the four boarders. She's a very nice girl." At that, Marion gave Helen a meaningful look, as if to say: hands off. Helen only colored slightly, and didn't respond otherwise. Marion's expression softened. "It's been hard for you, I know."

Helen looked at her hands. "Well... not harder than it has been for you, Marion."

Marion sighed in exasperation. She didn't like to talk about sex even under the most relaxed circumstances. But with a homosexual, it was nigh impossible; everything could be taken another way. What was worse was that they had had a serious conflict already.

"I don't want to argue. I just thought you would like to know that at least one person has an inkling of what you're going through, that's all."

Helen took a deep breath, glanced at Marion, and spoke to the open room under her breath. "I keep myself occupied—think of work all the time." She looked at Marion. "I'm very fond of Bert Frederickson." Marion looked immediately interested. "Not enough for anything to come of it," she added, not too hastily, but she was anxious not to encourage speculation. "He needs me, I need him—all I have to keep me going is an occasional hug from him. He's lonely, too."

Marion shook her head in wonder.

"Yet you seem to radiate happiness and calm!"

Helen shook her head, echoing Marion. "I'm sure I don't know why!"

It was a little frightening to face fifty teachers crowded into a library on a Monday afternoon, with kids peeking in at the door, wondering what was going on.

"I feel very odd, conducting this meeting," Helen began, trying to be as upbeat as possible. "I wish one of you had volunteered to be Bert Frederickson's assistant! But I'm not going to quit until the job is done.

"It doesn't look as if the principal can play a major role, or even be here at all. So we have to do it all ourselves. I know planning has been going on for a month or so; the choirs, both of them, and the band and the orchestra, they're nearly ready. I'm ready with little performances from each class. For everything else, here's what I'd like: Let's make a list of things to do, and divide it up. I can't possibly do everything Bert did, _and_ everything Marion did. I guess I'm asking for help! Okay, let's make a list."

It worked like a charm. There was a huge list of things that had to be done; a blackboard full. Marnie was there, writing down everything. Then it was all divided up between about a dozen teams, from the entertainment team and the Prizes and Honors, team down to the Scheduling team. It was all done in half an hour. Helen exhorted each team to keep everyone informed of relevant information. The Scheduling Team, of course, was the nerve center of the whole operation, and Helen made sure she and Marnie were on that one.

Afterwards, Helen collected all her things, and headed out to Stella Richardson's house, where the girls had agreed to go after school.

"There she is!" cried Stella, and Allie ran to Helen and leaped into her arms, crying "Mama!" That inspired Gena to give her mother a warm hug, and behind her was Erin, shy and retiring. Helen kissed Erin's head, and asked Allie whether she had a good time. She nodded eagerly. "They have a sandbox!" she reported, eyes wide.

"Really?"

"Oh, Eric went out and got one yesterday!"

"Just for _her?"_

"Just for her!"

"I'm going to pay for it," said Helen, looking in her purse.

"Absolutely not! Every home should have one," said Stella, with a grin. You just had to grin with Stella around.

The four boys stood around, watching with amusement. They were Gena and Erin's friends, and clearly enjoyed the company.

"Why don't you go home, clean up, have dinner, and maybe come back and do your homework here; give Mom a chance to relax a little?"

Helen could hardly believe her ears. "That would be lovely," she sighed. "I'd like to keep James with me, if the girls don't mind it..."

"Oh Mom, please let's do that!"

So that's what they decided. After James had let go of his mother's so-wonderful breast, the little gang went home, washed, ate, and came right back. Stella wouldn't take extra money. Helen said that they had to negotiate a flat rate, and named an amount that made Stella gasp. Helen said it was worth every penny, and the school was going to subsidize it. Stella accepted.

# Vicky Rhodes

At six in the evening, Helen found herself miles away, at a nearby mall, getting her hair trimmed and conditioned. James slept in his stroller, while the hairdresser's clever fingers soothed Helen's scalp. She told Helen she had pretty hair, and Helen smiled. She looked in the mirror, and liked what she saw. It was the same light brown, but it had a luster that was very attractive. On an impulse, she decided to have it braided. The hairdresser asked quickly whether she could do a pretty French braid, and Helen agreed. Her hair was now grown up to the middle of her back, and Helen was pleased with it. She gave the girl a big tip.

Mother and son then set out for the Mall bookstore, but on her way Helen saw something that made her stop. Outside the bookstore, a woman was standing whom Helen recognized. And clearly the woman recognized Helen, too.

Almost twenty years ago, when Helen had begun seriously surfing the web for pretty girls, she had found lots of photos of a certain popular blonde model called Susan. She had had long straight hair. She had been pretty, with expressive blue eyes, a face that could be sensuous or mischievous or romantic, a wide, expressive mouth, nice perky breasts, and the body of a dancer. She had had beautiful, tiny hands and feet. At one time, Helen had owned some fifty-odd photos of this girl alone.

And there she stood, staring at Helen. It was twenty years later, but she had changed hardly at all: she too was now a brunette, and there was no doubt in Helen's mind that this was the same woman. She was still slim and voluptuous, and she, too, had a baby in a stroller. Her breasts were a little heavier, her hair a little untidy around her forehead, and pulled back in a more grown-up style, but it was the same woman.

They smiled at each other, almost at the same time, and they were serious again. "Hi!" said Helen, and she said Hi. She smiled at James in his stroller.

"How old is he?" she asked, in a clear West Coast voice and accent. She had smoked, and given it up, Helen guessed, just from the voice.

"Just three months," Helen said. "And yours?"

"The same!" she replied. "Got a minute?"

"Sure," said Helen, feeling slightly breathless. They went outside.

"We've never met, but you recognized me!"

Helen blushed. "Yes; at least if you are who I _think_ you are..."

" _Was._ I'm trying to lead a normal life," she said, and smiled cautiously. "She's my third. Natasha."

"She's lovely!" Helen said. She wondered what to say next. "Do you... do you know me from..."

"I think I recognize you. Actually, I collect your photos, too!"

"Oh!" said Helen. "You have the wrong person. I wasn't a model..."

"You're Helen Nordstrom."

"Yes," Helen admitted. They were far from anybody who could overhear them.

They continued to stare at each other. She had called herself Susan, Helen remembered.

"I'm... in hiding," Helen said, just to say something.

"I know," she said at once. "Listen, are you in a hurry? I'd like to talk, if you have time."

"Well, I have until about eight, I'd say; I just came in to get my hair trimmed..."

"It looks great! _You_ look great! You could have been a model," she said, her voice low with admiration.

Helen smiled. She seemed nice, just as Helen had imagined her. It had been long ago, before videos on the Internet had become common, and so Helen had only been able to guess at her voice and speech. And she had aged very gracefully indeed.

They decided to sit at a shelter in a park nearby.

Her name was Vicky Rhodes. She had gotten tired of the porn industry, and decided to quit. She had cut her long blonde hair and colored it brown, drastically changed her appearance, and moved to Minnesota. She had substantial savings, and decided to attend college. She'd met a boy, fallen in love, and told him everything. They were now unhappily married, but she was content.

"I'm not going to leave him _ever._ He's a good dad to the kids; he's good to me. He's just paranoid that I'll go back to the business. Even unhappy, I'm happier now than I was then."

"You're so lucky. It's easy to throw everything out, and not find anything again, I suppose."

"Yup. What about you? You're bisexual."

Helen was taken aback by the blunt statement. She told the woman most of what had happened, until Penny's death. "It's already a month or two, but... it's hard."

"Why don't you start dating?"

"Dating? There's nobody in that little village, Ferguson. Have you heard of it?"

Vicky smiled. "I think so; it's pretty small, I know. Are you looking for a man or a woman?"

"I'm not searching; I just want my Michelle back."

Vicky nodded, looking sympathetic. They were both nursing their babies.

"When I got married, I gave up women," Vicky said, softly. "But it's been hard." She glanced at Helen, clearly trying to gauge how much she could reveal, how intimate they could be. "Peter won't let me have a... girlfriend. I _told_ him I'll be careful; I'll keep her out of his hair; the kids will never know. But it's kind of a phobia." She looked right into Helen's eyes. Helen had slavered over those eyes a thousand times, and here they were, expressing a longing that made Helen's blood pound in her veins.

Well, they weren't really expressing a longing; they were just very intent. Vicky sighed and half-smiled. Helen searched desperately for something to say, to keep the woman with her, talking. Helen told herself that she, Helen, was a celebrity. Vicky was as fascinated by Helen as Helen was by Vicky. But compared to Helen's understanding of the other woman's fame, her own importance seemed to fade to nothing. She had begun to believe that Helen's own fame was a mere illusion, a brief one.

"Don't you miss the fame, the attention?"

"Uh-uh. Nope. I miss the lifestyle, sometimes. The girls were so pretty, the guys were cute, too... but there was no way I could have a child in that... mess."

"Is that why you gave it up: to have a baby?"

"Oh yes. Not for _him._ I was quite open about it."

Helen looked at the drowsing James and smiled affectionately. "Sometimes I forget how hard I fought for him," she said, and Vicky couldn't help smiling with her. It pleased Helen greatly that Vicky liked her. Vicky had had sex on camera with some of the most beautiful men and women in movies, both porn stars and legitimate stars. She had dared them to resist her on camera, and won! Oh, she had been so gorgeous in her late teens! Helen began to recall fantasizing about meeting the girl, seducing her, making her lust after Helen. And here she was, still an amazing figure of a woman, quite slim, with a strong, flat stomach. Only her breasts were heavier, after the children. Half Helen's mind raced, trying to think of a way she could make a move on the woman, while the other half realized that all they could do was talk sexy.

Vicky had asked her what her life was like, and Helen had told her. She had said that at night she slept with the girls, just for the company. At least they were warm and affectionate. Vicky smiled. She and Peter had just agreed to sleep separately. Once a month they just had to do it; it was a desperate need. The rest of the time, she couldn't stand his jealousy, and he couldn't stand her aloofness.

"Can I buy you a drink? Coffee, or ice cream, maybe? I'm trying to think, what do I know about you?!"

Helen was puzzled until she realized that many celebrities made public their preferences about all things. Helen tried to think whether she had done this. Vicky grinned at Helen's intense concentration. "No, I don't think you've told us your favorite flavor of ice cream!"

It was remarkable how compatible they were. If anyone had told Helen that she would make friends with a porn queen, she would have laughed at the idea, but Vicky was excellent company, and they had many things in common.

She was much more formal than the persona she had presented on camera. As a teenager she had been relaxed, very in-your-face about her nudity, but always with a smile, and with intelligence, a sort of raunchy kid sister. She was still charming, but perfectly formal and unassuming, graceful, and utterly respectable.

"These days, I drink mostly coffee," Helen admitted. "I used to drink tea, but there's just so much coffee around, it's hard to resist!"

"Of course you'd prefer tea; I forgot you were also a _singer!"_

Helen grinned. "I haven't sung in more than a year!"

Vicky looked indignant. "That's such a shame!" she said. She led the way to a coffee shop she said she knew. "You know, I don't think you realize exactly what you are, and what you did."

Helen raised her eyebrows. She had known exactly what she had done, except that she hadn't been allowed to continue doing it.

"You see, people thought you were squeaky-clean, you know; Miss Perfect! Then..."

"Oh, that's what people _thought_ I was. Actually, I've got around; well, I don't want to get into details, but..."

"Exactly! When it came out, the way you handled it—I think it was brilliant! I felt—and I don't think I was alone—that you were sexually active, but you were completely professional about your work, and very private about your sex life. And you were high-profile about your work, and your sex-life was totally for recreation, and not for publicity."

"Certainly not. I've never cared about publicity."

"See, that's really different! All these Hollywood types, they use sex to keep themselves in the news, see?"

Helen nodded. "And you're impressed that I didn't care."

"I think that's impressive. I've seen the film of you dancing—you're an incredible artist. You're a _total_ artist; every fiber of you is music and dance."

Helen blushed. "That's how I felt when I was a teenager! I'm very grateful that you should say that. And I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the... business, and I wanted to meet you so much!"

After coffee, they walked to where they had parked, and Helen realized how late it was.

"I'd better get back," Helen said. "This has been fun! Please call me; I'd like to stay in touch!"

Vicky looked plainly uneasy about that. "Why don't we just meet here? I usually come shopping on Mondays, and wind up at the bookstore!" Helen gave her her phone number, but Vicky refused to take it. She said if it was found lying about the house, there would be trouble. Helen reluctantly accepted that, and stepped away, departing unwillingly from the other woman, who was as lonely as Helen for company of a certain kind. Suddenly, Vicky came to Helen, and gave her a hug with her free arm. "I know it's hard," she said softly. Taken unawares, Helen yielded to the hug, and turned to kiss her. But Vicky turned away. "No, no kissing," she said softly. But she held her cheek against Helen's, a disquieting but tender intimacy. Helen felt Vicky's leg pressed between her own, and her warm belly against Helen's hip. There was something utterly sensuous about that embrace. As they pulled reluctantly apart, Vicky breathed out in a long sigh, and said, "There! That should keep us for a few days!"

Helen was driving away, her mind still on the encounter with Vicky. They had exchanged a few more words, about the children, and remarked how handsome both children were. Helen had said James was a mellow boy, but Vicky had said Tasha was a wild one. She would normally be creating a ruckus by now, she had said. Helen had said she didn't look like a troublemaker, and they had laughed. Vicky had a sweet, infectious laugh. She was a lovely mix of maturity and youthfulness.

"We're speeding, kid," she said to James, "keep your fingers crossed, sweetheart!" Just a mile or two from the school, the car almost slid off the road into a shallow ditch, and Helen only recovered by braking to a standstill.

Helen couldn't help crying out as the minivan slid a little towards the ditch, and James, still strapped in his car seat, facing backwards, began to cry in fright. Helen began to talk calmly to the baby, and he quietened down. Helen wiped her tears; they were both safe and unhurt, and the car seemed to be all right, for the most part. She slowly opened the door, and stepped into about four inches of stagnant water. She walked slowly around the car, and found that it was unhurt.

Helen got back inside the car, and began to talk to the boy, who made talking noises back to her.

"Your mother is an idiot, Baby James," she said, and he cooed back. "Yes, an idiot. What was I doing, driving like that? We could both be dead, and poor Gena and Erin... oh _God!"_

James seemed to talk to her earnestly, and finally Helen pulled herself together, and tried the ignition. The car started. With great difficulty, Helen worked the car out of the ditch, going backwards and forwards countless times, working the wheels at an angle out of the mud. Not a soul passed them. They were presently back on their way to school.

Helen had been determined not to tell Stella about the accident, but it came out.

"Oh Mom!" cried Gena, running to hug her. "Where? Where did it happen?" Erin looked at Helen silently, her eyes full of tears. She was hunched up, her arms hugging herself. Allie sat in the middle of a pile of toys, looking at everyone quizzically.

Stella smiled awkwardly, and said that she hated to send Helen away in this condition, but Helen said she needed to get home and get herself together. "Did you have a good time, except for the accident?"

"Oh, yes,... yes," said Helen vaguely.

# Graduation

Helen met Vicky once more, at the bookstore, and said that it was graduation week, and she expected to be up to her eyebrows in work, and might not make the next Monday. Vicky was looking lovely, and though Helen did not know it, Helen had been in Vicky's thoughts the entire intervening week, so much so that her husband had noticed. Helen only observed that Vicky's eyes looked a lot hungrier than they had been the last time. So when, Vicky had asked, was graduation? Helen had told her, and they reluctantly parted.

Vicky's neighbor had a daughter, Fiona, who attended Ferguson, and was just about to graduate. Vicky managed persuade her husband Ryan to visit the neighbors, and to talk to Fiona privately, and casually asked how she was getting on at school. She immediately brightened, and regaled Vicky with stories about their new acting principal, Ms. Nordstrom, and how everyone loved her to pieces, and how sweetly she spoke, and how lovely her kids were, and how sad the girl was about having to graduate and leave the school.

Vicky brought up the possibility of attending the graduation, when the adults were all talking together, and Fiona and her parents were eager that they should come along. Ryan somehow smelled a rat, because Vicky had hardly taken an interest in the neighbors, who were actually Ryan's distant cousins.

Helen was going crazy with getting the choir and the band ready, and she gave up on the more difficult band pieces she had wanted to prepare for the parents, and concentrated on getting a few easier pieces ready. The choir point blank refused that plan for themselves, and insisted on working hard with the challenging program they had started with, and within days, they were ready to sing them perfectly. Hearing this, the band got together without Helen's knowledge, and came up with a plan to play the harder pieces Helen had set aside. The stronger players talked at their laggard colleagues, and said that _they'd learn their parts perfectly,_ and the others only had to pretend to play! These harder pieces—two of them—were really lovely, and the back-benchers eagerly agreed to the plan. They surprised Helen at band practice, and said they had learned their parts, and were ready to go. And somehow they were!

The plays being practiced by the senior grades were beyond perfect. A senior orator was found, and when Helen visited Bert in hospital, she was able to report that things were going amazingly well. Bert smiled; he had already heard from other parties that this was the case.

What follows is a summary of the numerous events and incidents that took place in the following days.

The day before graduation, the drama festival was presented, with brilliant success.

On the day of graduation, Bert was brought to school by ambulance, but found that he was too ill to stand, so he had to watch the proceedings from a sheltered place. The event was to take place in the playing field, and bleachers had been set up to accommodate the parents, and a low platform had been set up as the stage. Helen had rehearsed how things would take place, and she conducted the band, which did a good job to the surprise of the whole school. Then the choir sang, and that too was wonderful, but the school was a lot less surprised.

Then it was on to the awards ceremony, and with all the careful planning, it proceeded briskly, with the crowd cheering furiously.

Vicky and Ryan were seated with Fiona's parents, and while everyone watched the stage with interest, Ryan stole a glance at his wife, and was surprised to see how intently Vicky was staring at the woman who was presiding over the awards. Then he stared at the woman on stage, and a bell rang in his mind: he had seen her _somewhere,_ he was sure. It was almost all the way through the awards until he realized who it was. He quietly got out of his seat, and walked to the edge of the crowd, and dialed 911.

About half an hour later, when the diplomas had almost all been awarded, a couple of unmarked cars quietly arrived, and parked under the trees, and Ryan went to meet the men and women getting out of the cars, and Vicky saw it. For a moment she rested her head on her knees, and battled her fury, to get it under control. She, too, slowly made her way out of the seats, and worked her way towards the back of the stage.

The Police and the FBI did not make their move until the festivities were decently concluded, and a couple of them approached those were clearly managing the event, while a couple more waited until Helen seemed to be free, and spoke to her, politely informing her that she was under arrest.

"Where do we need to go? I have to make arrangements for the children," Helen said calmly.

"You should bring them along," said the woman. "The judge wants to see them."

# Trial

They were taken to the Federal Building, and told that they would be made comfortable in a hotel, and would meet with a lawyer in the morning.

Helen and the children spent a sleepless night at the hotel, with little James crying for a long while before he went to sleep. There were numerous friends ready to help, but Helen asked only for Heikki, whom she asked to speak to the Ferguson School administration on her behalf. Helen knew that Heikki was clever enough to do all that was necessary to ensure that the kids would be safe and comfortable after the trial was over.

The police and the FBI were not actually hostile; they joked about what a merry chase Helen had led them, but it had been the phone call that had led them to her. It was some days later that Helen learned who had made the phone call.

The lawyer assigned to Helen was a very well-known defense attorney for cases like that of Helen.

Most of the counts against Helen were dismissed, except for those about evading arrest, and Helen was sentenced to six months in prison, suspended. As long as Helen did not behave inappropriately for a parents of four children, she would not have to serve time.

# Summer

There were numerous matters to take care of once Helen and the kids had been released and they returned to Ferguson. Of course Helen had to straighten out what would happen to the principalship of the school. Then she had to pick up the pieces of her graduate school program, and all the musical matters in which Helen had a hand in the Philadelphia area. Then she had to visit the Gibsons, who were James's grandparents in Maryland, and finally, there were messages waiting for her from Galaxy Studios! Robin Friend already had a list a mile long, of various musical organizations that wanted Helen to perform with them, and before long, several friends had arrived at Ferguson, to help with anything that Helen might need.

Bertie was in rapid decline. He had watched Helen being taken into custody with dismay, wondering whether it had been anything he had done that had given her away. On the way back to hospital, he had suffered a stroke, and he was quickly put on medication. As soon as he was well enough, he handed in his resignation; it was clear that he could not go back to be principal of Ferguson School.

Helen had a meeting with the Trustees of the school, and they discussed the problem. They insisted that the reputation of the school would not be seriously compromised by Helen's legal problems. They would continue to offer generous scholarships for Gena and Erin, as recommended by a number of faculty. They would advertise for a principal, since none of the teachers were eager to take on administrative duties, and nor were their colleagues anxious to lose their teaching services. Helen had to agree to help find a replacement, and to see the school through the summer.

When Helen contacted Martha Singer, her graduate school advisor, she learned that she had been approved for a Doctorate, and it only remained for her to give an informal defense of her thesis, for which they accepted her presentation at the American Bach Society. A committee was assembled, and when Helen flew to Philadelphia for the defense, she found herself giving a presentation in quite a large hall. It was filled with scholars eager to hear what she had to say, and she described briefly what she had already described in Rhode Island, and it was received with much applause.

Helen met her Philadelphia friends, including the Singers, specifically Rebekah Singer, who was the manager of Helen's corporation, and of course Lorna Shapiro, the young dancer, whose secret love for Helen was still not known by anyone, and Lalitha, and her son Suresh, and Suresh's wife Trish, and their baby Megan Grace. Then Helen hurried back to Ferguson, having picked up a few essentials from their house in Semple Street.

In Ferguson, Helen found Cindy O'Shaughnessy, a family friend who dearly loved Helen, having taken over the task of looking after three girls, Gena, Erin and Alison. Becky Singer had agreed to support some of the deferred maintenance that Helen had insisted the trustees had to undertake, and Helen hired contractors to begin the work. Meanwhile, Helen returned Jeffrey's numerous calls, and was informed that she had to personally explain her refusal to marry Jeffrey, face-to-face, to his parents in Maryland.

What Galaxy Studios wanted was to invite Helen to play a continuing role in their television series _The Galactic Voyager,_ which Gena and Erin now watched religiously. Helen, Cindy and the four children were invited out to Seattle, where the studios were located, and their plans for Helen spelled out in detail. Gena and Erin were present, and were highly enthusiastic about the prospect, much to the amusement of the Galaxy folk.

Helen agreed to sign the contract, and they asked whether Helen would film a few scenes before she left. In the story, the younger folk, born on the _Voyager_ (an enormous space vessel, you will recall; almost a traveling space station, completely self-contained, with supplies to last many centuries) were becoming demoralized and restive, and the management of the vessel had, in desperation, decided to bring a certain celebrity who was on board, out of hibernation. In preparation, they wanted to show scenes filmed before the celebrity, Cecilia Yorke, had been put in hibernation, to the on-board population, over their TV system.

The first scene would show an emissary from the _Galactic Voyager_ project visiting Cecilia in her home. This is already sometime in the future, so Cecilia's home, and her costume, would all be futuristic.

The next scene would show Cecilia in a workshop, inventing a new instrument which she could demonstrate immediately.

The next scene would show Cecilia, and her beloved companion, both being put into hibernation. They would strip completely nude, walk through an antiseptic spray, lean against an upright recliner, and be connected to an IV that would sedate them, and inject them with the chemicals for hibernation.

Talking it over with Cindy, they thought that a wonderful choice for Helen's companion would be Annie Nordstrom, a young woman who had married Helen's widowed father. Annie was sent for, and having agreed to an ongoing role in the series, Helen and Annie acted the several scenes they wanted. Helen did not yet know this, but many years later, it was only the income from Galaxy Studios that provided Helen with the means to live.

# Jeffrey and Barbara

Jeffrey had met Barbara and her classmates and their chaperones in Washington, D.C., and been conscripted to guide the contingent of teachers and students who were traveling with Barbara on the fabulous visit to Washington around the sights. By the end of the visit, as can be expected, Barbara and Jeffrey were hopelessly in love, but of course, quite unable to give their company any hint of the state of affairs. That had been in March.

The end of June, during a long-weekend, Barbara persuaded her mother to accompany her to Minnesota, to visit 'Paula'. She had spilled the beans to Jeffrey only after the plans had been made, and Jeffrey decided to visit Ferguson, to make sure that Barbara did not complicate matters.

Once the Cromackses approached the Twin Cities, Barb called Helen's number, and Jeffrey had prepared Helen for this call. Helen answered her phone with calm, and some amusement, while Jeffrey watched; and graciously welcomed the women to the state, and to her home. Of course, this was something Helen had wanted, but not necessarily at this time. Of course the fact that Helen was taken into custody, and the trial, had all been broadcast on television, and by now Carol and Barbara knew exactly who Helen was.

When Carol met Helen and Jeffrey, and after she had finished reproaching Helen for deceiving her, and after she had declared that Helen made a lovelier brunette than a blonde, it was a happy gathering, and we leave out the details, but as Jeffrey and Barbara slipped out of the house for long rambles in the fields and woods, Carol turned to Helen, with stars in her eyes, and said that she could not hope for a better companion for Barbara, no matter how wide the gap in ages, than Jeffrey.

"Barb is... innocent; naïve," Carol said, haltingly, searching for the right words. "But she's... older than her classmates, Paula—I mean, Helen! I'll never get used to that!" Helen grinned at her. Carol shook her head; every once in a while she returned to the topic of how unbelievable it was that their friend Paula was in fact Helen Nordstrom. But she returned to the point she was starting to make. "She couldn't find a young man who was her equal mentally, you know what I mean? She's like... a thirty-year-old woman in the body of a seventeen-year-old."

Helen had to agree. Barb's vocabulary was now enormous, and the precision of her expression was amazing, and it was getting difficult to follow her conversation if she was talking about anything the least bit complex.

The young lovers wanted to share a bed, and Carol was very uncomfortable, but Barbara promised that they would not be intimate. Carol reluctantly allowed it, privately telling Helen that she was fairly sure that Carol meant what she said, and that Jeffrey seemed trustworthy. Helen could not see how trustworthy any red-blooded boy could possibly be in that situation, but she allowed it.

Within a week, Carol and Barbara had moved to a town nearby, Barbara had been registered at a junior college, and Jeffrey had been hired as Helen's replacement as music teacher for the school. Barb's birthday would be in October, after which Carol said that the youngsters could marry, if they still wanted to do so.

# Kansas

Helen had to meet with her family in Kansas soon. Erin had never met her adopted grandfather, and Helen knew that John Nordstrom, and Erin O'Brien and young James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson would hit it off famously.

And so it was. Grandpa John was presently walking around with little James in his arms, and holding Erin's hand, and they inspected the horses, cows and ponies, and watched the chickens, and walked around the farm, while 'grandma' Annie debriefed Helen in detail.

Annie (a classmate of Helen's, on whom Helen had had a crush from tenth grade on) adored Helen, and the feelings were mutual. Annie had a boy, Bo, from her failed first marriage, and Little John, from her marriage with John Nordstrom.

The Nordstrom were not as musical a family as Grelly's family, but that did not prevent Grelly from loving John Nordstrom dearly. Due to various circumstances, Old Elly did not pursue John Nordstrom; at first, her husband Tom had been alive, and Elly was loyal to him; Tom had realized that he was not Tomasina's father, but with typical generosity of spirit, overlooked that fact, and brought up Tommy as his own, until he died. By that time, John Nordstrom had fallen in love with Annie, and they were happy together.

Gena and Alison were perfectly comfortable in the Kansas farm, and Annie (whom they regarded as more an aunt than a step-grandmother), and Annie loved the two sisters dearly. Alison was a truly sweet child in every way, while Gena was teenager who was bright and adventurous, and ready for anything. Once James had been handed back to Mama and Annie, Gena and Erin were off riding ponies and horses, with Uncle Little John, who was, of course, just a couple of years older than Gena.

All their plans were described to Annie, but of course, as you will read, the plans would get changed very shortly.

# Janet and Family

This chapter is just a stub, and will be fleshed out as time permits!

Sixteen years earlier, Janet Krebs Kolb was a woman who was on a honeymoon tour of the west, with her husband Jason. It so happened that they were driving past the town in which Helen's father had his farm, and Helen had just given up trying to get his help to make her way to college, and had decided to hitch-hike instead. She had made her way out to the highway, and had flagged down the first vehicle she saw, which happened to be Jason and Janet. They had picked her up, and thus Helen's story had started. In a few days, Janet and Helen had found themselves strongly attracted to each other, unknown to Jason, and continued their intensifying secret relationship while they headed back east to the home of Janet's parents, Elly and Tom.

Now, more than a decade later, Elly, her daughter Tomasina, and Janet's daughter, Elly (Little Elly, to distinguish her from her grandmother, Old Elly), and Janet herself, lived in the big old house in Illinois in which Elly and her late husband, Tom, had lived since Janet had been in school. Tom Krebs was dead, and Elly's older children, Rachael and David, were married and settled in New England.

Janet taught mathematics and science at the local school, while (Little) Elly and Tommy attended the local Quaker school. Since Janet and Tommy were both children of Old Elly (now called Grelly, for Grandma Elly), and since Little Elly was Janet's daughter, she was Tommy's niece (or 'half-niece,' if there is such a thing, since Janet and Tommy were only half-siblings). Tommy and Little Elly had both been born on Christmas Eve, fifteen years ago, and had always been very close. A year or so before this time, they had begun experimenting with sex, and now the family was well aware that they were a couple. Elly had a very volatile and passionate nature, while Tommy was a tightly controlled, gentle, quiet girl, deeply in love with her niece. They had been given the basement as their domain, and they had their beds there, as well as their musical instruments, Elly's viola, and Tommy's Cello.

Helen took time off that summer to visit Grelly and her family in Illinois, and renewed her acquaintanceship with Tommy and Elly, who had been known as The Twins ever since they had moved into the same bedroom and begun their 'inseparable' period.

While Helen and the children were visiting, Elly had discovered a pretty redhead, reading in the library, and had begun stalking her. One day she had discovered that the girl was the daughter of Elly's favorite teacher at the Quaker school. Elly had made her presence known, and was called into the house, where she was formally introduced to the redhead, and was given permission to visit her whenever she wanted. The girl's name was Eve, and soon Elly was seeing Evie all the time. Once Tommy learned about Elly and Evie, things became complicated, especially since Evie was a heavy smoker, and Elly enlisted Tommy's assistance to wean her off of the habit.

Meanwhile, Helen was talking to Janet about having to find a new principal for Ferguson School, and Janet, having gotten a very favorable impression of the school, decided to apply for the job. The entire Krebs-Kolb clan decided to visit the school, and Evie had also joined them, after a lot of effort persuading her parents to let her come along.

In Ferguson, while Janet was being interviewed by the hiring committee, the Twins and Cindy were being shown around the village by Gena and Erin. By the time they met for lunch, Janet had won the hearts of the hiring committee, and they had offered scholarships for Tommy, Elly, and even Evie. Elly's scholarship was automatic, being Janet's daughter. Tommy and Evie received part-scholarships, which satisfied Old Elly and Evie's parents. Now Helen was able to leave the school briefly in Janet's capable hands, and make the long-overdue visit to Maryland.

# The Gibsons in Maryland

One fine day in July, about seven in the evening, Helen and the children got off a plane in Baltimore-Washington International Airport. By now Helen's hair was grown down to her waist, and she wore it braided and pinned to her head. Helen's hair was now back to the glorious shade of gold that it usually was, with only the ends still relaxed, and stained light brown. It was not hard for Olive and Dan Gibson to identify the little family in Baggage Claim, and conduct them to their lovely old home in the D.C. area.

It was difficult, but Helen convinced Olive that despite her refusal to marry Jeffrey, despite the fact that she loved Jeffrey, but not in the way either Jeffrey or Olive wanted, bearing in mind that Jeffrey and Barbara were deeply in love, that Helen would be pleased to have a relationship with Olive that was satisfactory. "I won't be your daughter-in-law, but I will be the mother of your grandson, and you and I are going to be very happy, Mrs. Gibson!"

"You could start by cutting out that 'Mrs. Gibson' nonsense, and just calling me Olive, Helen. _Nobody_ calls me Mrs. Gibson."

Helen smiled. "That's easy!"

"Come on upstairs, I have a room ready for you, dear. And you, young man, get over here; I'm your distant ancestor, you know?" James cautiously allowed himself to be handed over to his grandmother.

"Huh?" he asked Helen, pointing to Olive.

"Yeah, she's all right," Helen assured him. "Oh look, Jamie, a lovely crib for you!"

"This was Jeffrey's, when he was your age, James. Helen, he doesn't look at all like Jeffrey, dear. Are you sure... ?

Helen grinned and shrugged. "I tend to associate more with ladies, so, by a process of elimination..."

"Okay; let's not get too deep into it," said Olive, looking a little grim, while Helen laughed.

It was a lovely, sturdy crib, more than a century old, which could easily last another couple of centuries, beautifully carved and decorated, with new linen in it, and James seemed pleased to be placed in it.

The following morning, Helen, James, Olive and Dan drove and walked around the vicinity of the Gibson home, and they took a train down to Washington, and saw the Mall, and the memorials there, and the Smithsonian Museums, all things that Helen had never seen, but had heard of, of course. The delight of the Gibsons in their new un-daughter-in-law gradually grew. Helen was a pleasant, unassuming visitor, easily pleased with what they wanted to show her, interested in everything, and happy to pore over family photographs, but of course, Olive could see clearly that Helen's interest in Jeffrey's history was just a little different from the interest a lover would have shown. Jeffrey was a friend; a _beloved_ friend, but ultimately, only a friend. Meanwhile, Helen found in Olive a kindred spirit. No one could be more of a kindred spirit than the folk back in Illinois, but Olive was a refreshing addition to Helen's wonderful extended family, and Helen described to Olive as delicately as possible her family circle, from her father, John Nordstrom, at one end, to Eleanor Krebs, at the other.

It was the custom of the Gibsons to have, every week, a musical gathering at their home. While Elly Kreb's gatherings in Illinois were more for the family, Olive invited a rather wide circle of musical friends, who brought their own music instruments, and they had quite sophisticated performances in the Gibson's formal living room, since some of those attending were professional musicians.

Of course, Olive had to introduce Helen as her new un-daughter-in-law, and Helen played violin for several chamber works, which were received with great approbation. Helen also, somewhat timidly, agreed to sing some Lieder, and the audience loved it. It was somewhat rare for a soloist of Helen's stature to agree to play at an open-ended engagement such as this, but Helen had been off the solo circuit for a couple of years, and those present ascribed her willingness to that. But in fact, Helen was usually game for this sort of musical evening almost anywhere.

# Nadia, and Westfield

Helen made a brief visit to Ohio, to her alma mater, having received a message that her former musicology teacher, Dr. Nadia Vander Wert was anxious to meet her. To cut a long story short, Nadia said that, now that Helen had her doctorate, she should consider teaching. Helen's advisor, Norma Major, seconded it most strongly. "Helen," she said, "you will be a _wonderful_ teacher. I do not wish to _exaggerate_ , or _overstate_ my feelings about it, but... you ought to _at least try_ it for a year. I know Nadia is looking for a teaching job, and it might be possible to find a place that can use _both_ of you."

Nadia's thoughts were similar. She said that she had done all that it was possible to do at the college in Ohio, which was a nationally recognized school with a reputation to maintain, and she wanted to find a four-year college at which she could make a difference. "Here, they're already at the top, Cherie, and I can't do any more. I think this place in Pennsylvania will suit me better. Why don't you come along and see?"

The next day Helen and Nadia left the girls in the capable arms of her Ohio friends, and headed out to the school, Westfield, "in the middle of nowhere," as Nadia described it, in the wilds of rural Pennsylvania. The town of Westfield had little except the College: schools, banks, churches, an old-time main street with a tiny general store... a drugstore, a laundry, etc., a music store. There was a big furniture factory and outlet, which was the big employer of the area, next to the College. The College was a young institution, only chartered since the war, but built on the site of an old Lutheran seminary, which meant a post-secondary school for women.

Gretchen expressed a desire to be left out of any official contact with the institution. They checked in at the Holiday Inn and Helen, Nadia and baby James headed out to the College (having called ahead and caused quite a stir). They were met at the main parking lot by the Dean, Dr. Laurence Atwood, a big, genial man in his fifties. He conducted them to his spacious, airy, unpretentious office, and called for tea and snacks. He gave them an overview of the college, its history, general information. There were about 1000 students, more or less, and about 60 full-time faculty. All the usual disciplines were represented, plus accounting and business; forestry, an inter-disciplinary major; and education.

"Our music faculty were very senior," he told them. "One died, the others retired. We've hired one replacement, Richard Wilson, a pianist-organist. He's also undertaken to be in charge of the choir. The instruments are mostly taught by local folk: flute, clarinet, and so on."

"Oh yes," said Nadia, nodding.

"Interest in the music program is on the rise at Westfield; we're graduating around fifteen a year. We want to strengthen and update the program; it's an important part of our teacher-preparation mission. Rich Wilson can't do it alone. He really shouldn't." He smiled warmly. "When I heard that not just Dr. Van Der Wert but both of you were interested, I could hardly believe our good fortune! Let me simply say, without, I think, giving away anything I'm not supposed to, prematurely," he smiled conspiratorially, "that we're willing to be considerably flexible in the arrangements!" Helen and Nadia nodded, Nadia knowing exactly what he meant, Helen trying furiously to guess. "Obviously it's not the financial rewards that bring you here!" Nadia smiled non-committally, and Helen nodded. Tell me what lures you here, and let's see how we can arrange things to the benefit of our students, and to your satisfaction. We'll walk round and look at the school in a minute!"

Helen blushed and confessed that she'd heard of the school only recently, and the Dean chuckled and said that he was accustomed to that. They weren't an athletic powerhouse, and that counted for a lot of a school's visibility. But they graduated a large number of teachers, and had lots of alumni placed well to send them students. "Wilson is an alum. He did his graduate work at Carnegie-Mellon, which I'm sure you know is a good music school," Helen nodded, "and brought back his wife Sandy, who teaches in the Theater department."

Nadia nodded. "It's complex!" She smiled. "Let's talk while we walk around." The Dean agreed, and they set out.

It was a friendly place; everyone seemed to smile at them and greet them. The Dean was evidently well liked. It was built around one large quadrangle, with the classrooms arrayed along one long side, the dorms along the other, and with the administration building and the chapel facing each other at the ends. The playing-fields were behind the academic buildings, and the president's house, the gymnasium and the parking lot completed the three sides of the playing fields.

The music department was one of the wings of the academic buildings, all by itself. Helen and Nadia smiled as they passed classrooms with music still on the blackboards, stereo equipment on the consoles, bleachers for choir rehearsals, etc. There was a studio for listening to records, a record library that they were proud of, containing all of Helen's public-label recordings. The inevitable practice-rooms were in the basement.

"Class sizes are small," said the Dean, "around fifteen. Senior classes are smaller, around eight or nine, and Freshman classes could go up to 50, no more." He said that freshmen usually took music appreciation, or survey courses.

They were guided towards an office in the center of the faculty offices, occupied by a short rotund fellow with a sad face. When he saw Helen, he shot up like a jackrabbit.

"You! Good heavens, Dean Atwood, you should have told me!"

"Richard, this is Dr. Nadia Van Der Wert, and Dr. Helen Nordstrom, whom you seem to have recognized! I called you that they were stopping in! What've _you_ been smoking!"

"I didn't... the names didn't connect! Hello, how do you do! I'm Rich Wilson! Just joined the staff. This is an honor!"

"Good to be here," said Nadia, smiling. She'd much rather explain their interests to a fellow musician than an ignorant Dean, however personable.

"Sit down, sit down! Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, please, for both of us!"

"Dean? Tea before you go off? Stay and talk?"

"No, no, they're all yours. They're not talking to me; perhaps they'll talk to you! Talk to them, and talk them into joining us!"

After the Dean left, Richard laid the cards on the table.

"Look, it's absolutely clear, you two will make wonderful additions to our department!" They smiled at his enthusiasm. "It's also clear that we can't possibly compete financially. So there must be an angle. Instead of my guessing, why don't you tell me?"

"No," said Helen, "it isn't the money, as far as I'm concerned. Nadia, why don't you start?"

"There is no mystery," said the old scholar. "I want a change. I'd like to go somewhere where I can make a difference; where there is interest in developing the curriculum, like here, and where there's not a lot of pressure to publish, and where Helen and I can work together. In Ohio... I don't know; after Helen left, I think the department has been very successful, but musically, it has stagnated. Maybe we could do some good there, but... there are so many there now, all brilliant, all competent. We could do more here."

"Absolutely! Absolutely! And you, Helen?"

Helen looked at Nadia. "I'd like to teach, learn from Nadia—we've been working together. We haven't done a lot of what we set out to accomplish when I was her student."

"Well, so far I see no problem. My interests are in composition, modern music, jazz, African American music. Dr. Van Der Wert, your interests are in musicology, especially baroque and early music."

"Correct."

"And Helen, your interests are..."

"Very general. Basically they're the same as hers, but I'm interested in the core curriculum."

"Oh, her! She's interested in instrumental music, orchestral music, voice, viola da gamba, musicology! What else? Art, opera, photography, mathematics, instrument manufacture, harpsichord–just yesterday she was playing mine so beautifully! Conducting, choral music, dance, acting!"

"Oh my word! Did I hear: instrument manufacture?"

"Yes, I made my own violin," said Helen, smiling. "I'll show you sometime. We have a factory in Ohio. It's got a good reputation."

"Good heavens! And of course, you're a TV star now!"

"A small part, yes, but a recurring one!" Helen smiled.

Richard grinned. "Wow! Anyway," he took a deep breath and clasped his hands over his round belly. "... The curriculum is very flexible. The only serious constraint is on the K-12 teaching curriculum."

"True," said Helen, "except for what is expected in grad school."

"Correct, but there's lots of ways of delivering that, you must agree." Helen nodded. "I'm flexible. Judging from what you tell me, I don't think we're going to be at loggerheads about a good core curriculum. Our musical interests are different, and they complement each other, and I'm guessing you and I will have similar attitudes about the pre-service training, which is important."

"I think so," said Nadia, and Helen nodded agreement.

"But there is a problem," Helen said, and Richard looked a little nervous. "I'm expecting to carry a busy concert schedule. I _do_ want to teach. I'm wondering how to reconcile the two!"

They talked about it from every angle, and Nadia suggested the most workable solution. Helen and Nadia would schedule their courses in such a way that, whenever Helen needed to travel for a concert, Nadia could cover her classes.

Nadia consented to share the administrative work of running the department. "Helen is a wizard at solving other people's administrative problems. She can't, of course, solve her own." Helen laughed, nervously. "She will set it up so that it takes hardly any work to run the place, and she will do it before classes begin!"

"Well, let's put our heads together... but first, we must finish the interview process!"

Helen and Nadia were conducted back to the Dean. Then they were taken out to lunch by a hastily assembled team of faculty from a variety of departments: psychology, biology, and math. The Dean was in philosophy, and Sandy Wilson, who also came along, represented theater. "That's how it is here, very multi-disciplinary!"

"That suits us fine!" smiled Helen. "And we represent the 70-80 age group, the 30-40 age-group, and the 0-1 age group, don't we, sir?" she asked James, who was looking about for something fun to do. She got a hearty laugh from the crowd seated round the lunch table. Nadia explained that James was "into hair," and that he gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "get him out of my hair!" James grinned round the table and chuckled his little baby chuckle.

The conversation was lively, the faculty knowledgeable, the food was good, and Helen began to enjoy herself.

"It's hard to get a feel for a place when the students are away," said David, from the Math department. Helen agreed. David went on to say that some of their most interesting students were in the choir. "Ours, too," echoed everyone. "Sure," said Helen, "that was how it was in Ohio, too. If you wanted to get something done, you took it to the choir. It was a sort of brains trust."

Wilson mused on the contrast between choir and band. "Band is all business. Let's get these notes figured and get out of here. Choir is the opposite: yakkity yak, blah, blah, blah,..."

"Yeah, a lot of visiting," agreed his wife, "but that's how we get things done!"

A few days later, Helen had bought a double—a duplex building designed for two homes, side-by-side—of which half had burnt down, and presently unoccupied. The visitors headed back to Ferguson, to report on their progress, and flew back to Pittsburgh, and drove out to Westfield again, and Helen and a few volunteers repaired the fire damage, remodeled the remaining building as two apartments, downstairs for Nadia, and the upstairs for Helen. It was just ready the weekend before classes.

In Westfield, Helen began a new phase of her life, taking her responsibility as a mother far more seriously, and embracing the small-town life in which she found herself. She was far away from anywhere, especially from her Impromptu Choir and Orchestra; from her family in Kansas, and Illinois, and the little boarding school to which she had given a shot in the arm, and left in Janet's capable hands, and in which Gena, Elly, Tommy, Evie and Erin would soon become involved in numerous activities.

Helen, however, greatly missed both Michelle and Penny. Michelle had asked to break up with Helen, for reasons that were not clear. Helen had agreed, because her relationship with Penny had already weakened her feelings for Michelle. Helen had expected to grieve for Penny for much longer, but somehow having Erin with her made it a lot less painful; Helen could not understand it. But from the very first weekend, Helen found herself horribly, horribly lonely for female company.

Before we leave Helen to her mentor and her students, we must follow along on a brief visit she made to the Washington D.C. area, when James was able to visit his grandmother once again, and Helen met the interesting young lady called Sophie Cocteau, a tennis professional, who plays an intermittent, but important role in Helen's life.

It was a short week for Helen, most of it having been taken up by the long weekend. She 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 for the first time, left Allie to Nadia and Nicole's care, packed carefully, and headed out to Washington D.C. with James.

# Olive

"Well, little boy," Helen said, "you're going to see your Grandma again. Are you ready?" He smiled his toothy smile at her; he had one big tooth in his lower jaw, and it was causing the usual minor problems for the young man. Helen had a refrigerable teething ring he could bite on, and he spent a lot of time biting the ring, or Helen's finger, which he found particularly yummy. Helen had to take out all the piercings in her ear, which would have otherwise ended up in James's stomach.

Helen could have just driven down to Washington if she had to, but it was a five hour drive, and there wasn't time, so she flew. Once she landed, she rented a car at the airport, as she and Olive had planned, and soon mother and son were at the big house in the Maryland suburbs of Washington, being enthusiastically greeted by the old lady.

"Well, _finally!_ _"_ said Olive, with a reproachful smile. "Come here, you," she told her grandson, who looked at her suspiciously. "He doesn't remember me, does he!"

"Well, he was just a few months old," Helen murmured, as she handed him off.

"You've lost a little weight, Helen," said Olive, studying her critically.

Olive and Helen looked at each other, Olive with the frustration she had felt when Helen had refused to marry Jeffrey coming back in a rush, and Helen with a deep longing for Olive to get past their differences, and accept her as a friend, and the mother of her grandson, but not a daughter-in-law. Technicalities of relationships were annoying and needlessly complex; if Helen had not been James's mother, Olive and she would have been fast friends. Olive's home was by way of being a cultural center in that locality, and she had numerous close friends who were musicians, and at least a couple of times a week, they met in Olive's large drawing room to play chamber music. This weekend, unbeknownst to Helen, between Helen's concerts, Olive had planned to have special chamber music events to celebrate Helen and James staying with her.

"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."

"Come in and let's get your stuff settled in your room. It's the same room," she said, bustling Helen upstairs into the spacious room Helen remembered from the spring. There was a lovely ornate cot for James, presumably one which his father had used in his infancy. "Let's look at what you've brought to wear!"

Like Lorna, Olive loved clothing, especially formal wear, and now she looked with approval at the pieces Helen had brought with her, and was hanging up. "Oh, Helen," she breathed, "I _love_ this one... Wear this!" she said, an excited look in her eye. It was an elegant creation in deep red, perfectly modest, but with sexy diagonal shirring which was very flattering to Helen when she was a little overweight, but now that Helen had been running so much, and had lost more than ten pounds, Helen wondered whether it might not look quite right.

"You've really lost weight," Olive said, studying her. "When I saw you last time, you were just a bit heavier."

"Well, I got a _lot_ heavier over the summer, and now I've been running," Helen told her.

"Oh no; I hope you don't have a lot of stringy muscles all over the place," Olive said. Olive had only had the one child, Jeffrey, and Helen could tell that she longed to have a daughter she could fuss over. Olive was a big-made gal, as tall as Helen, but not as nicely built, and she probably longed to be able to be involved with the sort of elegant clothing that she probably could never pull off. Helen had always had a certain grace, despite her big-boned frame. Her hands and feet were big, but her face was beautiful, and her movements were a contrast to the ranginess of her body.

Helen hurried to shower and change while Olive hauled her grandson downstairs to the kitchen. It was just chilly enough that Helen had to take a wrap with her, but when she came downstairs with her violins, and her wrap over her arm, her skin beautifully moisturized, and her hair braided and coiled in a bun, Olive and James just stared.

"Mumm," said James, smacking his lips.

"No, you can't eat her yet, feller-me-lad," Olive murmured, "though I know what you mean!"

Helen laughed. "He's teething with a vengeance," she said, amused with their antics.

"Well, if he wanted to eat you, I know what he means," said Olive, looking her un-daughter-in-law up and down. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Helen," she declared. The deep red dress looked lovely on her.

The doorbell rang, and Helen had to leave.

Negotiating the heavy traffic was unpleasant, and the stretch limousine had trouble, despite the obvious experience of the superb driver. Helen longed to be able to talk to the man about what was going on, but it was more trouble than it was worth. Helen relaxed, and cautiously inspected her violins, and presently they were at the large concert hall in which Helen was to perform.

# Sophie

Sophie Cocteau wished she had worn something a little more formal. All around her, women were dressed in clothing that was just a tad more formal: gowns, or at least calf-length skirts and nice blouses, or business suits, which looked too informal in comparison. The men all wore ties, and many of them, jackets. In the cheaper seats, there were students dressed more casually, and Sophie wished she had sat up there with them. She had worn her signature brief skirt, but with heavy tights, anticipating aggressive air-conditioning, and she had been right. Nobody expected her to be at a classical music concert, or she would have been recognized.

Presently the music faded out, the lights dimmed, and a gentleman came on stage to make a number of quick announcements, after which the orchestra came out to polite applause. They were all formally dressed in white tie tuxedos, and as far as Sophie was concerned were a sea of anonymous people, except for the women, who wore black, but in attractive ensembles that were not distracting, but were individual, nevertheless. _Thank god for women,_ Sophie thought, guiltily; men were such creatures of tradition, it was stifling.

Then Helen Nordstrom came out, with the conductor, and Sophie caught her breath. She had worn bright red, and with that glorious gold hair put up close to the head, or actually pinned to the crown of her head, like a tiara, she looked utterly regal. Her eyes swept over the audience, and she smiled, with her lips closed. She had a wide mouth, and her expression was decidedly merry, pleased to be here, and amused at something that must have happened offstage before they walked on. She was _tall!_

Helen was known to a certain sector of the population as Cecilia, on the _Galaxy_ show. Cecilia had straight, lustrous medium-brown hair worn at shoulder-length or tied back, and her personality was earnest, wise, thoughtful, self-effacing, and somewhat anxious. In the storyline, she was an artist, a musician (actually based on Helen herself), who was thrown into the role of a facilitator and a psychologist, a sort of honorary social worker, and Cecilia was able to convey beautifully that she was going purely on instinct, and was completely untrained for her responsibilities.

The person on the stage could not have been more different. She had piercing green eyes, Sophie could see, not the soft hazel eyes of Cecilia. Somehow Cecilia looked a small person, whereas Helen was not an inch shorter than five-foot-ten. She wore low heels, and stood as tall as the conductor, who was not a short man.

After the moderately enthusiastic applause, they launched into the first piece, and Sophie was startled when she heard the music. She had never been to a live concert as an adult, and she had expected something like the sound of her stereo, only louder. But it was very different.

At first, she was startled that the soloist did not join in the music, but then, on cue, the solo violin entered the mix, with a wonderfully sweet sound that stood out of the background, and Helen was no longer watching the audience, she was totally focused on the music, which she seemed to know from memory. Everyone else was playing from music scores except the soloist.

Not prepared for the experience, Sophie was literally swept away by it. At some point, some boundary was crossed, and the music became slower and softer and more lyrical, and to her amazement, Sophie saw what she had been sent to watch for: Helen had tears in her eyes, and from that moment on, if you knew what you were looking for, you could see the sadness even when she smiled.

Helen gave it her all. But somewhere in the second movement, it was as though the violin had a mind of its own, and Helen's loneliness poured out, and she seemed powerless to stop it. Even the joyful finales of the first two concertos seemed to announce that they were being played reluctantly. Oh, they were beautiful, but they had never been intended to be sorrowful, or bitter. Somehow the audience loved it, not hearing bitterness, but only poignancy.

Before Helen came on stage, she had been handed a message conveyed through a member of the audience. But it had been marked "Not urgent!" which had made her laugh, and she had left it on a piece of furniture in the wings, to read it later. After the Beethoven, Helen took two curtain calls, and went offstage with the maestro, a talented young American conductor whom she had known in his youth, and she had been handed the message in its envelope again.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, looking annoyed, and Helen had said that someone in the audience had passed it to the aide. "May I see it?" he asked, and Helen gave it to him, not so much worried about the message, but puzzled. When he opened it up, Helen recognized the writing inside, and exclaimed in surprise. He turned to her, his eyes looking a question, and Helen smilingly held out her hand for it.

"It's from someone I know," she said, blushing, and the conductor apologized and let her read it in private.

There was water and coffee in the waiting area, and most of the orchestra was out there, some of them eager to chat to Helen about the _Galaxy Show_ , of all things. It appeared that once Helen had joined the cast late in the summer, nothing else she did mattered anymore, except her role as Cecilia. Helen was still too taken up with the novelty of being an actress to resent it.

Her loss of concentration did worry her. She had been fine for a couple of weeks, but the few days with the children had thrown her off balance, and now she was missing the girls. James was a dear little fellow, but the girls were hard to tear herself away from. Now this message confused her still more. It was from the woman with whom she had been when she lost her baby the first time, in California: Marsha Moore, one of the most celebrated, but one of the most mysterious actresses in Hollywood. Helen had learned all Marsha's secrets by accident, and they had fallen in love, and been blissfully happy for several months. It was partly the loss of her first babies, and partly her friends insisting that Helen should go back to school that had made her leave Marsha.

Marsha was astonishing, in how she could tell what Helen was feeling. She must watch _Galaxy_ , Helen supposed. Or, she must keep in touch with Janet, or Old Elly. (Marsha had gotten to know _all_ of them!) Helen wasn't _worried_ about it, but it was startling to have someone who hasn't talked to you very much for several years know what was on your mind.

The message said that Marsha figured Helen could use a shoulder to lean on, and that she had sent a friend to get in touch with Helen.

"Ma'am," said a polite voice at her elbow, and Helen turned, trying not to appear jittery. "You have a visitor." Helen looked over his shoulder, and saw an unremarkable-looking young woman.

"Hi!" said the visitor, staying back and smiling. "Did you get my message?"

The aide was looking worried. The entire _audience_ , of course, could claim to be Helen's visitors, and he was concerned that he had allowed an exception to the _No Visitors Backstage_ rule.

"It's all right," Helen said to the aide, with a reassuring smile, and approached the young woman, with a quick glance at her watch.

"I just wanted to meet you briefly, so that you'd know me after the show," she said. Clearly someone who wasn't a regular concert-attender!

"I wish Marsha had warned me beforehand!" Helen said, putting a little more emphasis on it than she had really wanted to.

"It was just so that, you know, it wouldn't... throw you off, or anything, that's all! It's going really well!"

Helen shrugged and smiled. It would be difficult for someone who wasn't much more of an insider than this young lady to be able to tell that Helen was distracted. Helen, herself, had never thought that she would ever have got into this mood of self-pity right in the middle of a concert performance. But now, this girl had distracted her; kicked her out of her cycle of anxiety.

"I was a little preoccupied, but you've fixed _that_ ," Helen said, and the girl laughed, and Helen decided that she liked her.

There was a soft chime, and the conductor approached, and the girl wished Helen the best of luck, and backed out of the room.

"A pushy admirer?"

"Actually no, she's a messenger from Marsha Moore! Marsha and I..."

The conductor raised his eyebrows. "I remember you two were together back about ten years ago! A _messenger?_ "

Helen shrugged and grinned. "Hollywood! What can I say?"

"Well, you're hardly in a position to criticize," he said, urging her towards the stage. "What with _Galaxy_..."

"Oh no," Helen said vehemently, shaking her head. " _Galaxy_ is far from being Hollywood. Not the least bit."

Once the orchestra had taken its place, the Conductor, having acknowledged the cheers of the audience, turned to them and began to say a few words.

"We're happy to see such a large audience, after quite a while! We're happy too, to have Dr. Helen Nordstrom with us as soloist this evening, and I personally hope her performance today will be the first of many with us. In fact, I'm going to try to persuade Dr. Nordstrom..." Helen cringed visibly, and the audience laughed, alerting him to Helen's reaction to him giving her the academic title. "Okay, she doesn't seem to like being called that!" Laughter. "I'm going to try to persuade her to actually _conduct_ for us, and I could take a break and go to Disney World, or something!" Much laughter. "Helen has agreed to say a few words tonight! Miss Helen Nordstrom!"

Helen smiled and bowed graciously, clutching her precious violin in her hands.

"I'm glad to be here, and I hope you support the orchestra as much as you can, especially in these days of declining state support for the Arts!

"I'm not sure what I could say that would interest you, but... I have started teaching at a small school in Pennsylvania, and I hope those of you who have young people who play an instrument would consider letting them attend Westfield College!" Laughter. "I have a recurring role in a TV science fiction series... I see that some of you are familiar with it! An important theme in the series, represented by my character, is about the value of art in modern life. Bearing that in mind, I hope you enjoy this second part of the concert!" There was prolonged applause, after which Helen had to turn to the orchestra and request a re-tuning, to the general amusement of the audience.

The concerto was an uncommon one, and Helen was inspired by the challenge of playing it. It had a mixed reception, some members of the audience loving it on this first hearing, others pleased by the passages that had pretty sounds, and yet others quite unable to connect with the piece. To Sophie, though the piece was just as unfamiliar as the preceding works, it seemed as though Helen had caught fire, and was really interpreting the work; there was a new persuasiveness in the way she played, as though she was no longer content to let the music speak for itself, but was trying to explain it by the sheer skill in her hands. Somehow, she was ten times as beautiful as she already had been. The brief meeting backstage had been quite overpowering, though Sophie was accustomed to appearing cool when meeting with celebrities. She had met royalty and heads of state, when she had won this minor tennis tournament, or come runner-up in that other one. But this was an errand for a world-famous actress whom Sophie had come to know at a personal level, and she had seen that Helen was studying her closely, trying to make out what was going on here.

Sophie did not know this, but the audience had been persuaded to come more than halfway in giving this unfamiliar piece a chance, and the protracted second movement—which was its last—was ending very dramatically. When the last chords had brought it to an end, the audience leaped to its feet, and Sophie with them. Helen had triumphed! The expression on her face was utter joy at her success. Helen sought out Sophie in the audience, but could not see her. If only she knew just how much she had influenced how this concert had ended!

After the repeated curtain calls and the encore, it was announced that Helen would meet a few fans in a room set apart for these receptions. Twenty ticket holders were admitted, selected randomly from every section of the auditorium, and Sophie drifted along with them, wondering how she would meet the lovely musician. She had just understood how a classical musician could become a celebrity. She knew rock stars were celebrities, but a mere violinist? Now she understood.

Somehow Helen saw her, and she was allowed to come in at the very end of the line. Helen finished signing the souvenir for the woman ahead of Sophie, who was fawning uncontrollably, gushing her appreciation for every performance and recording Helen had ever made, and Helen was responding with tact and as much sincerity as was possible under the circumstances, giving the interaction the semblance of an actual conversation. The fan finally reluctantly left, and Sophie stepped forward. Helen steered her into the building, murmuring an invitation to join her at the reception that was taking place. Evidently in Baltimore, after most concerts, the visiting soloists were briefly entertained by as many orchestra sponsors as cared to join the event, and today they had all turned up. Sophie introduced herself properly, and Helen managed to keep her with Helen for the next few minutes, until she could gracefully make her getaway. Finally, she had her shawl wrapped around her, and they had retrieved Sophie's light coat, and they had a few minutes alone.

"Can you tell me what Marsha wanted you to do?"

"Miss Nordstrom..."

"Oh, Helen is fine," said she.

"Are you staying in town?"

"No, near Washington, actually in a Maryland suburb. Is it going to be complicated...?"

"Washington? You know what, I could drop you off, really, if you could show me the way..."

Presently they were in Sophie's rented car. Helen was accustomed to Marsha's improvisational style, and the style of the people who helped her with her various escapades, whom she called her "Henrys", because two of the earliest ones had both been named Henry. Her violins were secured in the back seat and they were headed for Olive's home at high speed.

Having made two attempts at trying to draw out the young woman next to her, Helen decided to let her broach whatever was on her mind at her own speed.

Sophie gradually reduced speed. "What am I thinking, Cherie," she murmured, making Helen smile. She was clearly French, but had a good handle on the American accent. "At this speed, we won't have time to talk!" Helen chuckled. "Where are the children? I was told you have some, no?"

Helen briefed her on how many children she had, and where they were. "James is visiting with his grandmother, which is where I'm staying," she finished.

"Oh. I think I will drop you off, and run!" said Sophie, with a smile in her voice. Helen laughed and said that wouldn't be necessary. "Well, I think that after Marsha, there have been a few ladies who were..." Helen's smile fled. This was the big one. "... were good friends, right? But not now, maybe?"

Helen had planned to turn the conversation firmly in a different direction, but something prevented her from doing so. The entire story of the last several years came pouring out. Part of her was appalled, that she would bare her soul to a complete stranger, but the other part just couldn't shut up. She was recounting how Penny (Erin's mother) had died.

"... And Erin came to me, and she was trembling, and just stood there. Oh, she is the dearest, dearest child, Penny to the last ounce! And I held her and comforted her..."

But Erin had been unable to say a word.

_I know it's hard, sweetheart, but you're going to stay with me,_ Helen had said, fiercely. _Me and Gena and Allie. Okay?_ The little girl had nodded slowly, her lip quivering with the need to cry. _I know you miss her very much! Actually, nobody can know exactly how you feel, we can only guess!_ But Helen _did_ know. She had lost her mother too, but she had felt it would be too cheap to bring that up now.

_But... but..._ Helen could hardly stand the tremendous effort the little girl was making to be understood by the lady she revered so much. Penny had sworn to her child, much earlier, that she would find someone to teach her music, because the little girl was _so_ talented, in her mother's estimate. It had been God himself, Penny had believed, who had steered Helen to their doorstep. Minutes after they had met, Penny had laid her cards on the table. She would work for Helen for free, be her personal slave, and all she asked in exchange was that Helen should teach little Erin music.

Now Helen nodded at the struggling girl. _She died before... before..._

What, darling?

She didn't...

If was with great difficulty that Helen had dragged out of Erin what her problems was: it was that Penny had died before she had given the child _any instructions._ Helen had just held her, and cried softly. Erin, as much as her mother, was a creature of duty, and the little girl was all at sea.

Helen continued her story. "But I persuaded her that Penny had told me what she wanted," Helen said, wiping her eyes. "There was a long letter, and she left Erin to my care. That's solid; it just can't be challenged in court. You know I had legal problems with the other two?" Sophie quickly confirmed that she knew all about that. Some parties had made a fuss that Helen was an unfit mother, which had forced the little family to go into hiding. That was when they had met Penny and Erin.

"You loved this Penny, Cherie, I know. You don't need to tell me the details."

Helen nodded. She and Penny had been lovers briefly, but Helen had loved Penny far more than that word could describe.

Sophie was by way of being an amateur expert on the subject of loneliness of women, especially professional women like Helen. Life was complex, as Sophie knew from first-hand experience, but the complicated emotional needs of a lesbian, even one who wielded the sort of power that Helen did, and who could control vast personal resources as did Helen, were difficult to deal with. There were hundreds of men who found them attractive, but with whom Helen could not find much satisfaction, Sophie guessed. There were yet more women who were drawn to Helen because of her great talent and personal charm, not to mention the arresting beauty of the actress and musician. The combination of looks, personality and talent was irresistible, even to a girl like Sophie who was accustomed to meeting attractive, talented girls routinely on the courts. Ahead of Sophie in line for autographed souvenirs at the concert, there had been twice as many women as men.

"So now, there is no one?"

"Well... there's Lorna," said Helen, biting her tongue. Lorna was Becky's girl, and Helen should never have mentioned her. But it had helped so much to unburden herself to Sophie that Helen just blurted it out. "She's... with my business manager, Rebecca Singer. But whenever I go to Philadelphia, she's there, trying to arrange for us to be alone..." Helen felt ashamed to talk about it, especially to reveal that when Lorna began touching her, Helen could not turn away.

"Cherie, that will never work for you. This Lorna will make things worse for you, not better."

"No, that's not how she is. She really cares for me," said Helen softly. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about her. She's only, I don't know, sixteen... something like that... I should not think of her that way. She's got her life ahead of her..."

"Helen, I just wanted to meet you, and get to know you. Marsha thought you needed someone... safe, you know? Someone who is not a... not a, what is the word..."

"A romantic prospect?"

"Exactly!"

Helen laughed bitterly. "I'm not sure two lesbians can _have_ a Platonic relationship!"

"Yes. They can. I am telling you this. This is what you need _most_ of all."

Helen was getting to like this young woman. She was easy to talk to, a good listener, and she had a confidence, a sureness about life that was refreshing. This Sophie was fearless about the future.

"Tell me, Sophie: what do you do? Are you still in school, maybe? Or do you work?"

"I play Tennis," she said. "You have not heard of me, but I am pretty good!"

"Oh yeah? That's wonderful! You've turned pro?"

"Yup. Last Summer."

"Won anything?"

"No, not yet. I was runner-up in Paris, and I played for the French team in the Olympics. But I lost," she said, with only slight regret.

Man, thought Helen, I'm really out of touch. She must be good, to play for France.

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 her eyes had lit up. She had asked whether Helen was any good, and Helen had said that it had been several years before she had played just in September, and she wanted to play very much. (Helen had been persuaded to hit with the girls on the Westfield tennis team.)

Olive was awake, and eager to talk. Helen was still slightly dazed by the strange experience of that evening's performance —which seemed to have had a life of its own— not to mention the equally strange meeting with the young tennis player, who had come up to Maryland from North Carolina just on Marsha's instructions. What a strange thing! It felt peculiar to have a former lover —Marsha and Helen had certainly been lovers in every sense, when Helen had been in her teens— to have Marsha keep an eye on Helen in such an active way. Can my loneliness be seen from so far away? Could the rest of the world see how lonely I am? Helen wondered, throwing a suspicious glance at Olive that she couldn't quite control.

"Are you all right?" Olive asked, and Helen felt remorseful at once.

"Oh, fine! Never better!"

"Who was that?" Olive asked, about the little car that was speeding away. Helen hoped the kid would find her way to the highway all right.

"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, after which she took up her second favorite topic, which was Helen herself.

"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're 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 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's concert the following evening, hoping to get Helen involved in the festivities. Having Helen stay with her was a huge coup for the outgoing woman who loved music so much, and she was utterly frustrated that she couldn't actually _do_ anything with it. As far as Olive was concerned, a musician who wasn't actually playing something every waking moment, was wasting her 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 very private."

"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 ten 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 knocker.

Helen kissed her little 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! 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 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 quarrelling 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 was 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.

The second concert, too, was a big success, and this time, Olive and James were in the audience. It was an outdoor affair, and Helen was allowed to wear something a little less formal than she normally wore, and to wear her hair down, as she did as a young girl, in a long braid. Helen was not fully aware that her long golden braid drove men crazy. It was a warm evening, and Helen was able to wear a skirt of moderate length, and she was able to be the girl-next-door gone violin-crazy. Helen had begun the habit of occasionally bringing James out on stage, just to satisfy the curiosity of the audience, and she did it that evening.

Somehow, meeting up with Sophie, and sharing her feelings of frustration and loneliness had made a big change in Helen, and she felt as exhilarated as she had felt the first week of classes, with the novelty of meeting all her numerous students, planning her lessons, and diving into teaching three classes, which she had enjoyed. She had called Nadia in the afternoon, and been told that the Jones girls across the street had kept Alison nicely entertained, though she had asked for Helen a couple of times already.

The program consisted of mostly Bach and Mozart, and the orchestra was good, and Helen was allowed to conduct the pieces herself. This was a tradition that was coming into favor, where the soloist was allowed to conduct the work while he or she played.

After the concert, 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.

"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. One time, she had died her hair pink, and... anyway. 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, _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.

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 was 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. Helen had sat at the back, listening to most of it, 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 grinned and shrugged. Sometimes she felt as if she knew Helen intimately, but sometimes she remembered that they had spent all of a few hours together. She could never explain to her friends how much she loved and adored Helen and James, but her face did not reveal anything more than the reasonable pride she felt at having hosted such a brilliantly successful evening, at such short notice.

"I did sort of put her on the spot; I have to make sure that she doesn't mind doing it again. She'll be back to visit every once in a while, but I can't make her play every time!"

"That's true, you mustn't," agreed the ladies.

By the time Helen came back down, only the most diehard Helen fans, and Olive's closest friends who always stayed behind to help tidy up were left, and Helen slipped easily into the job of putting things back and making sure the pieces of sheet music were back in their places in Olive's extensive personal library of sheet music. Helen could see that the collection was very valuable, and made a mental note to tell Olive so.

Olive couldn't help look 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 being a soloist; they expected a certain sort of perfection, and that was what they got. Olive's musical evenings were attended by people who were either professional 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. 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.

The End

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