by S. J. West
I witness a flash of worry cross Helena’s face as she self-consciously places her hands on her belly in a protective manner.
“I don’t know what powers he’ll have. All I know is that he’s different,” she tells me, “and not knowing how he’s different worries me somewhat.”
For the first time, I feel a strange sort of connection with Helena. I understand what it feels like to worry over your unborn child when so many things can go wrong, even circumstances that are completely out of your control. I may not be able to assuage her concerns over what powers her son will have after he is born, but I can at least try to ease her worry over his birth.
“I have a message for you,” I tell her. “Do you know Desmond? He’s one of the Watchers from Earth.”
Helena nods. “Yes. I know who you are referring to. What about him?”
“Apparently, he’s a doctor. He asked me to tell you that all he wants to do is help in the delivery of your son when the time comes. He won’t be there to take him away from you. All he’s interested in is the welfare of the child.”
“And did you believe him when he said that to you?” she asks warily.
“I did. I truly believe he’s only concerned about the baby being born healthy. He may wish for you to give it up, but he won’t force the issue. He only wants to help.”
Helena nods, letting me know she heard my words. I expect her to go on a tirade about how she can’t trust any of the angels on Earth, but she doesn’t.
“If you see him again,” she says instead, “tell him I’ll consider his offer.”
“I strongly urge you to not have the baby on your own. There are a number of complications that can occur during a delivery, and with your baby, who knows what might happen? Even you don’t know if this will be a normal birth. I really don’t think it would be a wise decision to try and deliver him on your own.”
“Are you scared I might die during childbirth?” she asks disbelievingly. “If you are, you shouldn’t waste your worry on me. I can’t die … not really.”
“To be honest, it isn’t your life that I’m worried about. Do you have any idea if your baby can die? I can assure you that if he ends up dying during his own birth, you’ll never be able to forgive yourself. You’ll always wonder if he might have lived if you had only swallowed some of your stupid pride and asked for help. Desmond is offering his services to you without any strings attached. I suggest you take him up on his offer when the time comes.”
“But if I seek his help, what’s to prevent Ethan and his men from following us and killing this body I’m in after my son is born?”
“Not much,” I concede, “but at least your son will be alive and well cared for by people who love him. No parent can ask for more than that if they’re unable to look after their child themselves.”
Helena narrows her eyes on me. “You speak as if you have experience with that sort of dilemma.” She looks around the living room and notes, “Yet I see no pictures of loved ones on the walls, only the one of you and that boy as a child on your table. I thought perhaps you might have a baby of your own to have so much insight into the connection between a child and parent. I heard everything you told Ethan. And I wholeheartedly agree that my son should know that at least one of his parents loves him unconditionally. I understand how it feels to be raised without that type of love and support, and I refuse to allow my son to experience what I did.”
Helena’s confession moves me, and to be honest, I’m not sure why she’s opening up to me the way she is. Perhaps she’s simply lonely and needs someone to talk to who isn’t judging every little thing she says in a derogatory way. Or perhaps she intends to kill me so I can never tell anyone what she just told me. I have no way of knowing what her true intentions are, but I prefer to believe she just needs someone to talk to right now.
I feel a need to cross the threshold where my own inner demons are hidden away, and I can’t believe I’m about to do it with Helena. But if my previous experiences can convince her to seek help during the delivery, it will be well worth it.
“I had a child once,” I tell her as my heart begins to ache with loss and regret. “But I never got the chance to see him smile or even take his first breath.”
Helena frowns.
“Why not?” she asks in a quiet voice. “What went wrong?”
“We—my husband and I—were in our mountain cabin when my water broke,” I tell her. “We’d spent months learning everything we could about home births and thought we could handle things on our own. As soon as the contractions started, I began to panic because I knew something was wrong. Once we realized that we were in over our heads, we decided not to take any chances and got into our car to head to the hospital. It wasn’t that far away, just at the base of the mountain. So we didn’t even think to bother my mom or Uncle Enis to help us out and phase us there instead. Timothy and I were always very independent and rarely ever asked them for help. Anyway, on the way down the mountain, it began to rain so hard we could hardly see five feet in front of us. I told Timothy to take us back to the cabin so I could call my mom, but he kept telling me he could get me to the hospital faster if we just kept going. The storm never let up, and Timothy lost control of the car when it hydroplaned. We ended up sliding off the road and into a shallow ravine. He and I were lucky enough to survive the crash, but our son wasn’t.”
I have to stop and collect myself as the terror and utter helplessness I felt when we drove off the cliff flashes through my mind.
“Some people say that mothers have a sixth sense about their children,” I continue, “that they can tell when they’re in trouble. I guess I developed mine even before my son was born. It wasn’t until the next morning that we were rescued, but by that time, my son was already dead. The doctors called it umbilical cord prolapse. It caused my son to be deprived of oxygen for too long, and he ended up dying inside me,” I say in a hollow voice as I recall that moment in the hospital when we were told how our baby died. “If I had only stayed in the city, we could have gotten the help we needed and saved my son’s life. I don’t want to see you make the same mistake I did. I don’t wish that kind of grief on anyone. So I beg you to take Desmond’s offer seriously. No matter what you might want, you need to put the welfare of your son first before anything else.”
I suddenly feel as if I’m standing emotionally naked in front of Helena. I’ve bared one of my deepest regrets to her but kept my darkest secret out of her grasp. She’s the embodiment of Hell, and I know I can’t trust her. I meant what I said to her last night back at the cabin. I’m not sure if my soul is destined to travel to her domain after I die, or not, for the things I’ve done and the person I wronged. If I can’t forgive myself for what I did, how can I ever expect God to forgive me?
Helena continues to stare at me with a completely blank expression on her face. Most people would immediately say how sorry they are for my loss and how terrible it is that I had to experience such pain. But I didn’t tell her my story to gain her sympathy. My only motivation was to give her an example of how the birth of her own son could go terribly wrong in a very short amount of time. Some people don’t see the pitfalls to a situation until it’s too late. By that time, they’re buried so deeply in their mistake that no one can help pull them out of it.
I suppose I should have been prepared for what she says next, but I’m not.
“How exactly did your husband die?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. “Obviously, he survived the crash from what you just told me, but I remember Evelyn saying that he’s dead now. How did it happen?”
I brace myself emotionally, because I know she isn’t going to like my answer, and I’m not sure how she’s going to react to it.
“That’s really none of your business,” I state. “I only told you the story about my son because I don’t want you to be as stupid as I was. You have a chance to ensure that your child doesn’t suffer the same fate as mine. I suggest you take it and count your blessings tha
t Desmond only wants to help you. I don’t think you can say that about a lot of people in your life.”
“No, I can’t,” she agrees as she continues to study me. “Although I can’t help but wonder if there is something else that you want from me. For instance, why were you with Ethan earlier? I don’t believe he makes it a habit of dragging girls along with him wherever he goes, even though I know for a fact that he hasn’t led a celibate life since he’s been on Earth. You don’t exactly strike me as the type of woman who would sleep with someone you just met, so your presence seems oddly timed. What possible reason would he have to allow you to tag along on his search for me?”
I swallow and pray to God that some sort of miracle happens within the next few seconds that gets me out of this conversation.
“Jules!” I hear Uncle Enis call out as he knocks on my front door. “Are you in there? I tried to call but didn’t get an answer!”
I automatically break my eye contact with Helena and look toward the door like anyone would do in the same situation. By the time I turn my head back around to look at her again, she’s gone.
Cautiously, I look up toward the heavens, wondering if God is actually watching everything that happens here. Just in case, I say a quiet but grateful “thank you.”
I take in a deep breath to ease the tension I feel after my unexpected encounter with Helena.
When I open the door and look at Uncle Enis, I must be wearing an expression on my face that tells him something is very wrong.
“What happened?” he immediately asks. “Why do you look like you just saw a ghost, Jules?”
I begin to slowly shake my head. “Unfortunately, she isn’t a ghost. She’s all too real.”
My uncle has always been rather astute when it comes to figuring things out on his own with little information given.
“Helena was here?” he asks worriedly. “Inside your apartment?”
I nod my head.
Before I can protest, Uncle Enis grabs ahold of my arm and phases me to my mom’s apartment.
“Evelyn!” he calls out, which automatically causes my mother to phase to our position in the living room.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, looking between the two of us for an answer.
“Helena was in Jules’ apartment,” he tells her, sounding incensed by the notion. “She can’t live there anymore. We’ll need to move her.”
“Wait a minute …” I begin to protest before my mother interrupts me.
“She has free reign to enter your home now, Jules,” my mother says like it should be obvious that I need to pack all my belongings and switch apartments immediately.
All I can do is let out a hollow laugh. “Do you honestly believe that if Hell wants to have a chat with me that she can’t just knock down the door to wherever I live? Come on, you two. I know you’re smarter than this. That apartment is my home. I refuse to leave it.”
Neither of them says anything. They just look at me disapprovingly, making me feel like I’m a teenager again who stayed out a little too late with my friends.
“Why was she even there?” my mother asks. “How did she discover where you live?”
Now that part of the story is something I don’t want to tell them, because I know exactly what their reactions will be.
“Ethan and I were on a planet where Helena was. She phased away unexpectedly, and he phased me back to my apartment, because there was a battle going on where we were. He was just trying to get me somewhere safe before I got shot by a stray bullet. It wasn’t his fault.”
“Ethan should have known better!” my mother erupts. “It was careless of him to not consider the possibility that she would return and follow his phase trail. Where is he now? I need to have a talk with him.”
“No,” I say absolutely. “You are not hunting him down just to yell at him about this. Do you honestly believe that will do anything but cause tension to form between the four of us? He’ll feel bad enough after he learns what happened, Mom. Don’t make matters worse by playing the overbearing mother hen and chastising him because you think he put your little chick’s life in danger. I’m not a child. I fully understood the dangers of taking on this job. So if you want to blame someone for what happened, blame me.”
My mother’s face remains scrunched up in anger, but it slowly dissipates as she lets her rage go.
“Fine,” she says reluctantly, looking anything but all right about the situation. “But you better tell him what happened, Jules. He needs to know what he did so he doesn’t make another mistake where your safety is concerned. I won’t allow you to place your life in danger over this. You may consider this an overreaction on my part, but it isn’t. She’s dangerous. More dangerous than anyone you’ve ever met in your life. I know she looks beautiful and vulnerable, especially since she’s pregnant, but she isn’t. If anything, she’s more lethal than ever.”
“I understand your concern,” I tell her. “And maybe it’s naïve of me, but I get the feeling she just wants someone she can talk to right now. I think she feels isolated, and if she’s as dangerous as you think, that isn’t a good thing. You always taught me to help those who need it. Why shouldn’t that rule apply to Helena?”
“Because she’s a homicidal maniac!” Uncle Enis shouts in frustration. “You just don’t know her like we do, Jules. She’s nuts!”
“You’re always telling me that people can change for the better,” I tell him. “At least that’s what you said about you and Mom. Are you telling me that’s not true? I know you both did things in the past that you’re not particularly proud of. Why are you placing a restriction on Helena? Is she the only person in the universe who is immune to change? Even Mom said she shouldn’t have been able to find a way to love someone, but we all know how much she loved Cade. Isn’t that proof that she can be better than what she was originally designed to be by Lucifer?”
“You listen too closely to the things we say to you,” my mother grumbles.
“I listen to good advice,” I reply with a small smile, because I can see that my words are finally sinking in. “And you’ve always given me that. Just because I’m putting it into practice isn’t any reason for you to get upset. You both need to trust me. You didn’t raise a fool, and I’ve learned from the mistakes I’ve made in the past. I can handle this. Let me deal with Helena in my own way.”
“I hate it that you’re all grown up,” Uncle Enis grouses. “I can’t just send you to your room anymore. Plus, you’re starting to make more sense than we are now.”
I have to laugh. “I was taught by the best. What else can I say?”
Uncle Enis brings me into his arms and hugs me like he never intends to let me go.
“Just be careful,” he whispers to me. “That’s all I ask.”
“You know I will,” I promise him.
“When do you plan to see Ethan again?” my mother inquires. “He should know about his stupidity as soon as possible.”
“Actually …” I say, quickly trying to decide if I should tell them about my upcoming dinner with Ethan or not. I decide full disclosure is called for in this instance. “We’re having dinner together this evening.”
“Like a date?” Uncle Enis asks, sounding surprised that Ethan asked me out.
“It’s more of a ‘let’s get acquainted’ type of meal,” I reply, not wanting to place the “date” label on a simple dinner.
“Where is he taking you?” my mother asks, clearly curious about the details.
“He didn’t really say,” I admit. “All I know is that it will be warm and breezy there and that he will be cooking some seafood for me from Earth.”
“He’s cooking for you?” Uncle Enis questions as if the fact is totally unexpected.
“Somebody has to cook the food,” I say with a small shrug, finding this a reasonable explanation. “You know I don’t even cook for myself, much less someone else.”
“Yes, I’m fully aware of that fact,” he replies. “Still, it seems a bit intim
ate for him to be cooking for you. Sounds like a date to me.”
“Whatever it is,” my mom says, “I’m just happy to see you willing to try something new. It’s been so long since you went out with someone besides me or Enis.”
“Yeah, I know.”
No one says it, but we’re all thinking about the fact that this will be the first time I’ve gone out with a man since Timothy’s death.
Finally, my mother breaks the tension by asking, “What do you plan to wear?”
Excellent question.
“I have no idea,” I admit. “I probably don’t have a dress that fits anymore. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost weight in the past five years.”
My mom’s face lights up with excitement. “Then let’s go shopping! How much time do we have?”
“He said he would be back in four hours to pick me up. I guess that was about twenty minutes ago.”
“Then we can make a day of it,” my mother says, looking happier than she has in quite a while. “We should find you a new dress, get your hair done,” she looks at the hair on my head as if something dangerous might crawl out of it, “and a manicure certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
“It’s not a date, Mom,” I try to stress. “We’re just having a meal together.”
My mother simply waves her hand in the air at me to brush off my claim.
“Call it whatever you want. I call it an excuse to go shopping and be pampered. Let me go get my purse and we can go.”
As my mother walks toward the back of her apartment, presumably to her bedroom to get the mentioned purse, Uncle Enis looks at me with a certain amount of pity.
“You know she’s going to try to doll you up for this date,” he tells me, as if I should just go ahead and resign myself to my doomed fate.
I sigh. “Yes. I know. But it’s not a date.”
Uncle Enis pats me on the back. “Go ahead and let yourself think that way if it makes you feel less nervous, but eventually, you’ll realize Ethan asked you out on a date.”