"That means it's not just that she's feeling threatened by me seeing Jake. I mean, it crossed my mind."
"Could be she saw the attention she got when she had a bad dream, got worried about this guy, and played on it. Kids can be sneaky, even if they don't know they are."
"What about at your house?"
"Don't get angry, but it could have been for attention there too. I mean later she watched the shows because she didn't want you getting aggravated. Now, she's thinking, Mommy has a new man, will she forget about me? Then she dozes off or whatever, and maybe her subconscious reminds her you paid her a lot of mind when she had a nightmare. So she has another one."
"But, Katrina, she was scared to death."
"The fear is real … maybe. She could be scared of losing your love. Hell, I'm not a child psychiatrist. Could be something she ate again if she watched them last night without any problems and the dreams kicked in again today."
"What should I do?"
Katrina paused a moment. "Do you have a pastor?"
"No. We were married in the Episcopal church, but we haven't been participating members."
"Let me call my pastor. He can probably recommend somebody you can take her to see. That kind of referral is easiest."
"A psychologist?"
"Possibly. No big deal. But it'll give you peace of mind, won't it?"
"It just feels funny to think about taking her to see a shrink. It's like admitting your child is crazy."
"Not crazy," Katrina said. "Her world has been shaken up. That's a strain. There are things going on in her head she probably isn't even fully aware of. Maybe it's best to have someone help sort them out."
Gabrielle ran a hand through her hair. "I guess one visit can't hurt. They'll give me time off at the office for that, won't they?"
"They'd better," Katrina said. She was accustomed to standing up for rights against bosses.
"I guess I'll give it a try," Gab said finally. "Maybe it'll head off trouble."
Although she was wrong, the statement gave her a feeling of optimism.
Chapter 4
The coins fell like raindrops, a shower of glistening metal that tumbled through darkness in a steady stream. They twirled and turned, end over end, and jangling as they touched, finally clattering into the palms of two outstretched hands, pooling, cold and hard, the smell of metal mingling with perspiration to create a sick, stagnant smell.
He sat up abruptly, hands at his sides, staring at the gray wall, confused and disoriented. Then, slowly, he stopped shaking, and, with one hand, wiped perspiration from the portions of his cheeks not covered by his thick red beard.
The sheet over him was damp from the sweat that always covered him when he awoke from the dreams. He threw it aside and climbed from the bed, walking naked to the window.
With a tug of the cord, he opened the blinds slightly so he might look out on the city. It was raining, and the clouds had smeared a grimy gray haze across the sky. Like tears, raindrops spattered against the glass and trickled along its cold surface in erratic networks which cast shadows back onto his face and chest. Against his skin they appeared black. Shadows of black teardrops, he thought.
He looked down toward the street, at the rainbow of umbrellas which bobbed along, people in raincoats. Some of those below attempted to cover their heads with newspapers, which quickly became soaked and looked like wet leaves.
He would not miss the city. Turning, he walked back across the creaking floor of the hotel room and sat on the mattress. The springs protested his weight as he settled himself and sipped from the water glass on the night table.
The water was room temperature and had a stale taste, but it soothed some of the rot off his tongue. Placing the glass back on the tabletop, he picked up folded, brittle pages.
They had found him again, now that they needed him. He never knew how. Not how they found him or how they knew where or when he should go. It didn't really matter. He was ready.
He would not argue. He looked down at the carefully lettered address on the envelope. It was almost like calligraphy, his name being the single word above the general delivery instruction: DANUBE.
How long had that served as his term of recognition? His name? Names didn't matter anymore. Danube was enough, and it carried as much meaning as a name. The Danube wandered, twisting through many lands. His path had done the same, carrying him around the world so many times. Too many to count, but enough, more than enough.
He was a vagabond. It was a role he had accepted, a role he could not have refused even if he had wanted. He thought often of destiny, of the unfairness of it all, but he did not complain. It could serve no purpose if he did.
He walked into the dingy bathroom, where he showered and performed his toilet in a quick, efficient fashion. Then he threw his few belongings into the battered black suitcase, saving only the clothes he would wear before throwing the catches into place.
He slipped on the black pants and shirt quickly, took only a moment to dust off the jacket before sliding it over his shoulders. The raincoat crinkled as he put it on, but the wrinkles quickly fell off. Last of all, he walked to the mirror and slipped the Roman collar into place.
The minister's office was small with dark carpeting and a Van Gogh reproduction on one wall, plaques and civic honors on the wall behind the metal desk. The Reverend Richard Marley seemed a bit uncomfortable. In his late thirties he might have looked better in a sweat shirt and jeans than he did in the plaid sports shirt and blazer he wore along with a tie.
Was it in Updike or Cheever Gabrielle had read of a staid old minister who would have looked like he was wearing a tight collar and suit even in his undershirt? She couldn't recall, but Marley was the opposite.
His brown hair was neatly trimmed yet tousled in a boyish fashion, and his eyes were clear blue and piercing. He seemed charming, although Katrina had warned he could go a little toward the deep end if you let him start talking about spiritual matters. He wasn't a fundamentalist, but he tended to take a lot of things literally. On the positive side, however, he had a way of pinpointing kids' problems. That had led to the recommendation by Katrina's pastor.
"So you've been having trouble with Gnelfs?" he asked.
“They keep scaring me," Heaven said meekly, a little intimidated. Here was another new man being introduced into her life to add to the confusion. Gab was wondering if this was such a good idea.
Marley smiled. "A big girl like you, afraid?"
Heaven nodded. Although Gabrielle had dressed her in pale blue slacks and a brightly colored blouse, her mood remained somber. "They say bad things," the child explained. "They want to hurt me."
The minister remained jovial. "Now, Heaven, you know they can't hurt you.”
"They come in my dreams." She went on to tell him how they had marched through her thoughts carrying pitchforks and other weapons.
"Why do you think the Gnelfs would want to hurt you?" Marley asked.
"They're mad at Mommy for some reason, and they know how much Mommy loves me."
Marley chewed on the inside of his lip, thinking that over. "They think it would upset Mommy if they bother you?"
Heaven nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, sir," she said, remembering her mother was beside her.
Marley frowned. "How do you know that, Heaven?”
“They said so. Some of them. Others made fun of me. Like the kids at school sort of. Only meaner.”
“They make fun of you at school?"
Gab started to answer, but Marley cocked an eyebrow to silence her. He wanted Heaven's answer.
"Sometimes. They pick on me and stuff."
"Does that bother you?"
"Yes. Yes, sir."
"Do any of the Gnelfs look like the kids at school?”
“No."
With his eyes, Marley indicated to Gabrielle he thought he'd found something but that the line of questioning hadn't paid off.
"Did the Gnelfs say why they're mad at Mommy?”
<
br /> “No."
"You haven't been mad at Mommy, have you?"
"No!"
"Not even deep down?"
Heaven twisted her head from side to side.
"All right. Do they mention your daddy?"
Again she shook her head, then: "No, sir."
Marley leaned back in his chair. "Are you a good girl?"
"Yes, sir. Always."
"You haven't done anything wrong that you want to tell us about?"
"No. I'm good."
He folded his arms. "All right then, Heaven. Let me tell you. The Good Lord looks after his children, and I know he's not going to let the Gnelfs hurt you. You just trust in that. I don't want you to be afraid anymore.”
Bowing her head slightly, almost sullenly, Heaven nodded. "Okay."
"Good girl. Now why don't you sit outside with Mrs. Simmons while I talk to your mommy?"
"Yes, sir."
"I've never thought the show was frightening or anything," Gabrielle said, once the door had closed. "I am careful about what I let her watch."
The pastor steepled his fingers and considered the dilemma silently. "It's hard to say what will scare kids," he said. "Their imaginations are quite active, and they haven't developed the ability to distinguish between the real and the imagined as you and I have. When I was little I remember being scared by the witch in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs or was it Sleeping Beauty? What was her name?"
Gabrielle smiled. "For me it was a movie called Two on a Guillotine. Dean Jones was the hero, to give you an idea of how really scary it was."
"I remember it. Cesar Romero is a magician."
"And they bury him in a glass coffin." Gab mocked a shiver. "Oooo, it got to me."
They laughed. “I don't think such things are really damaging," Marley said.
"Have you ever dealt with any similar problems?"
"People are always concerned about children's programs. They do tend to inject them with New Age philosophies these days, and that concerns some people. Once in a while the ideas reflect concepts from Eastern religions. Symbols turn up that are rather esoteric." He shook his head. "You can never tell what someone is going to protest. I'm very cautious, myself. In spiritual matters it's never good to jump the gun."
"I was just afraid this might be a symptom of something caused by the divorce," Gabrielle confessed.
"Maybe it is," Marley said, shaking his head again. "I can't really get at anything, but I'm not a child psychologist. I can recommend a counselor who is pretty good with kids if it keeps up, but I would say give it a couple of days to see if it’s just a temporary thing. No need to put her through a lot of trauma needlessly."
"I suppose you're right.”
"You're welcome to visit us on Sunday morning."
Gab smiled and nodded, making her way to the door as politely as possible. She collected Heaven in the outer office and took her home.
After dinner they sat in the living room, and Gabrielle read some of Anne of Green Gables. She'd found it in a box in the storage room, a dog-eared copy she'd had for years. It was something of a compromise. She hoped it wouldn't have elements that proved disturbing. She'd expected it to generate protest, but Heaven was listening without showing discontent or boredom. L. M. Montgomery's story of an orphan held her interest as well as any of the less imaginative modern stories that came her way.
Around seven-thirty, Gab said it was bedtime, and Heaven was bathed and in her pajamas by eight. Gab was sitting in the living room reading the latest Dean Koontz, which she'd borrowed from Katrina, when the phone rang.
It was Tanner.
"What's going on?" he asked.
A simple enough question, so why did it send that little bolt of fear through her?
The reasons were multiple. That inbred schoolgirl fear was there. After all, he was a man who interested her. What should she say? What should she do? Then there were the more complex underlying reasons. His call was a threat to her routine. He was change. He was moving her back into a realm from which she had shut herself away. It was easy not to have to worry about a relationship, easy to get through day-to-day living without tension. It could be boring, but it was also comfortable.
Also, there was the matter of being worried about Heaven. What if something serious was developing with her? If so, she would require time and attention. It might be hard to devote time to dating. And letting Tanner into her life might further aggravate Heaven's problems if they were related to the divorce.
After all this contemplation, she answered: "Nothing much." As an afterthought, she added, "What about you?"
"I had a productive day I guess. Almost finished a chapter, and I got a letter from a magazine. They want me to do a column on my next book. They have a new books' section where authors talk about how they came to write their books."
A brief lull followed, one of those long silences that come in phone conversations between people who don't know each other well.
Gab felt the awkwardness but could think of nothing to say. She suspected Tanner was having the same problem. She was reminded again of schoolgirl feelings, and decided he seemed to be like a shy little boy. Maybe this was a sign that they were well suited for each other.
"How's Heaven doing?" he asked, as if the question had come in a burst of inspiration to end the silence.
"Fine." She was leery of talking about Heaven too much to a man for fear of boring him or scaring him, but the question gave her something to talk about. For now, just getting past the tension was her goal. Wit and eloquence could come later. "She's having some bad dreams, but she'll get over that. You know kids."
"Yeah. I can remember a few sleepless nights when I was a kid. In fact the ideas for some of my books have come from dreams."
"Really?" He was talking about himself, his work; that was good. Give and take, that was what conversation was supposed to be.
"Dreaming people were trying to kill me, things like that," he explained. "Dreams give you the ‘what if,' and you plot from there."
"Heaven's got it in her head that the Gnelfs are after her." She bit her lip. She shouldn't have told him that. Now she'd have to admit—
"I hope the movies I showed her didn't cause problems."
"She'd seen Gnelfs plenty of times before. I'm sure it wasn't triggered by seeing them at your house. I don't know what has her upset. She'll be all right as soon as they advertise some new Gnelf toy that costs fifty dollars."
"I just picked those up because they said so many kids watch them. The people that produce them apparently put a lot of care into the designs and everything."
She thought it best to change the subject. What could she talk about? "Are you on schedule with your book?"
"Kind of. Every now and then I have off days. I hit a wall, kind of like a runner.”
“I guess writing a novel is like running a marathon.”
“It can be."
"It must take discipline."
"I guess you'd call it that. It's just a matter of sitting in the chair every day."
The conversation droned on, nothing spectacular. He was no Oscar Wilde, but he was trying. She felt some of the ice melting.
For a few moments, she let herself entertain a brief fantasy. Heaven's problem would turn out to be minor, and something exciting and romantic would develop with Tanner.
She liked the idea even though she knew the little dramas played out in the mind seldom came true. Not the pleasant ones anyway. She'd learned that from experience.
Chapter 5
Katrina expected a report on Heaven when the coffee break rolled around the next morning, and when she learned Tanner had called she demanded an update on that as well.
“What's happening here, girl? It sounds like things are looking up."
"Hard to tell."
They sat at one of the four tables in the small shop, sipping from paper cups.
“He’s obviously interested," Katrina said.
"I don't know.”
"He called, didn't he? Why do people always get so paranoid? Why would he call if he wasn't interested?"
"Maybe he was just being nice. I've got Heaven to think about right now, anyway."
"That's an excuse, and you know it," Katrina said, dumping creamer into her cup. "Heaven is gonna be fine.”
"Well, she slept okay last night. No screams in the dark. I thought about putting her in bed with me, if she gets frightened again.”
"Don't let her get dependent on that."
"I guess it would establish a life of fear for her.”
“She'd never want to let go of you."
"I never thought I'd be creating so much trouble when I signed the papers to end things with Dave.”
“Children are delicate creatures. They don't make it very easy to be selfish."
"I know she's confused. Her father's gone. To her it looks like I sent him away. She's never said much about the thing with Martin, but I guess that bothered her. He didn't particularly like children. He was very nice, cordial, but you could tell he thought of her as extra baggage."
"He was too old for you, anyway."
"He seemed so mature compared to David. A little gray at the temples, tailored suits. I was silly, but he was good to me. Sent flowers."
"I saw them. Remember?"
"Just thinking out loud. I don't know if I want to be involved with anybody right now."
"Tanner sounds nice."
"He's very nice. Soft spoken."
"Go after him. He's running toward you. It couldn't be that hard to meet him halfway."
"You have us running through a meadow or something. I don't own any white lace gowns."
Katrina picked up one of the small plastic stirring sticks and tapped the edge of the table with it playfully as her lips curled into a grin. "It's never that simple. Never just a matter of you and him. There are always other concerns, but somewhere amid the worries about Heaven and the worries of this sweatshop and whatever idiosyncrasies he has—and there are plenty of them, I'm sure—you have to try to find something. That's the only way. Sometimes I want to put mine out the door, but then I think about it, and I don't want to be without him. Or my babies. You can't go through life alone."
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