John comes rushing into the living room to welcome her. He’s wearing a tuxedo and the biggest smile. Holding both his arms out, he takes both her hands and shakes them in greeting.
“Helen, thank you for coming. You don’t realize how much we appreciate you doing this for us.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure.”
“Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the couch. “Tina will be out in a minute…I hope,” he adds softly, as not to be heard by Tina.
Helen laughs and sits down. John sits on the arm of a chair. He looks desperately down the hall toward their bedroom in hopes his wife will emerge at any moment.
“So, you must be excited,” Helen says.
“Oh, yes…very excited.”
There is an awkward moment of silence. Both of them want to say something, but not knowing what.
“John?” Helen says, finally. He turns to give her his full attention. “John, I have a confession to make.”
He says not a word. A deep look of concern comes over his face.
“The night you and your family followed me to the mall parking lot, I saw your face in my mirror. All I could think about was that I saw the face of a black man and I was afraid.”
“Some middle-class white guilt?” He begins to laugh.
“No, really…I mean it,” Helen says in earnest.
“So do I,” laughs John. “Listen, you’re a good person…I know it…God knows it…and you know it. You were under much stress at the time. Don’t do that to yourself.”
“Yes, I know, but…”
“There she is,” John announces as Tina enters the room. He stands up, takes her in his arms, and kisses her. “You look lovely,” he says tenderly. “But we don’t want to be late.”
Tina smiles at Helen. “Oh, Helen, thank you for doing this.”
“Your husband already thanked me. You need to get going or you’ll be late.”
“She’s right, sweetheart,” John says, slowly guiding his wife toward the front door. Tina begins to coach Helen while her husband directs her on.
“The children are already in their pajamas, so don’t worry about that. Bedtime is at nine; make sure they brush their teeth first. I made a fruit and vegetable tray, if they get hungry.”
“We need to go, honey!” says John.
“The number of the restaurant is near the phone. If you have any questions, feel free to call.”
“We need to go, honey!”
“What about TV?” Helen asks.
“We don’t watch TV in this house,” Tina says. “There’s a library of DVDs they’re allowed to watch. Let them pick one only or they’ll have you changing discs every ten minutes.”
“Honey, Helen is a grown woman, she can figure it out. We need to go, or we’ll be late.” John nudges her forward.
“John, now you just stop it! I’m not leaving this house till I’m sure Helen knows what she needs to know and I’ve said goodbye to my babies.”
“I’m sure I’ll be all right, Tina,” says Helen.
“I know you will,” Tina replies, bending low and holding out her arms to her children. “Come to momma, children!”
Trent and Lateasha rush into their mother’s arms.
“Now you two be good and be sure to mind Mrs. Haywood.”
“We will,” says Trent.
“Honey…?” A sound of urgency is in John’s voice.
Tina kisses both her children and breaks free. The next moment, she and John are out the door.
“So, what should we do first?” Helen asks, smiling at both children.
“Noah…Noah…!” Lateasha sings as she bounces up and down.
Helen looks to Trent for an interpretation.
“Noah and the Ark…it’s her favorite video.”
“Well, then Noah and the Ark it will be.”
It is a cartoon version of the story of Noah. Helen sits on the couch as both children lie on the floor and watch the screen with unblinking attention.
Halfway through the film, Helen goes into the kitchen to get the fruit and vegetable tray and places it on the coffee table. Both children reach behind them for the treats, not once taking their eyes off the screen for even a moment.
When the film finishes, Helen looks at the wall clock. It is eight thirty – still too early for bed. At that moment, the phone rings.
“I’ll get it. You two just wait here,” Helen says, making her way to the kitchen. She takes the phone receiver and places it to her ear.
Helen speaks into the receiver, “Pierce residence.”
There is a dead silence. She listens carefully. She can hear someone breathing.
“Hello, is there anybody there?”
“Buenas noches, señorita.”
She recognizes his voice immediately. His dark, low, gravelly voice washes over her entire body like ice-cold dead fingers.
“What do you want?” she says softly, not wanting the children to hear.
“What do I want? What have I always wanted? What does anybody want? A little love and respect from all the right people. Are you one of the right people, Nancy?”
“I’m not Nancy!”
“Oh, yes, you are. You are now, like it or not! I see you’re watching over a pair of petite pickaninnies tonight. I’ve always thought of mixing with the races as, how should I put this…immoral. In fact, that whole incident with Donald Johnson, that gay black guy…I found that very distasteful, but it had to be done. You see what I have to go through for you? You can only imagine how much I love you.
“But now, these two tiny chocolate morsels you have under your wing…these might be interesting. Especially the young boy…another time and place and he might have been a budding African warrior. I would just love to make a man of him. And the little girl with those big brown moon-eyes. I’d just love to make her watch.”
“Stop it…stop it…” Helen shouts. “Why are you doing this? How did you know I was here? Where are you?”
“Where am I?” he says laughing. “Why…I could be anywhere. No…I could be everywhere. I could be on the other end of town, in a trailer and holding a gun to the heads of those children’s parents. I could be in the garage just waiting to kick the door in. I could be just outside looking at you right this moment through the kitchen window…and don’t turn around to see!
“I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down. …I eat little piggies like you…you three little piggies!”
Helen is shaking and crying, uncontrollably. She finds it difficult to hold the phone – it feels so heavy. She grows faint, but she knows she has to hold on for the sake of the children.
“Listen to me, Nancy, and listen well. One way or another, all our troubles will be resolved tonight. If you want no one hurt, you’ll do whatever I say.
“First, if I so much as smell police, I will bring a world of hurt down on everyone you ever loved…especially those two children you have in there with you.”
“What do you want me to do?” Helen sobs.
“I want you to leave that house this instant and meet me for one last rendezvous at our spot. …Come to the lake.”
“I can’t, I can’t leave the children alone.”
“To hell with the little bastards. …I’ll crush their black little skulls before your very eyes, if you don’t do what I say.”
“If I leave the children alone, how do I know you’ll meet me at the lake and not come in for the children?”
“You’re so mistrusting, Nancy. You have my word. Besides, why would I turn down a chance to be with my favorite girl?”
Helen thinks for a minute.
“No, I’m not leaving these children alone. Their parents will be home in an hour and a half; you can wait till then. I promise, as soon as they come home, I’ll come to the lake.”
There is another moment of silence.
“Very well,” he says. “I’ll leave now. …I’ll meet you at our spot.”
“By the way,” Helen says. “I’ve got a gun. If you�
��re lying, and you put one foot in this house…I’ll kill you!”
“A gun…? How exciting! I hope this time you remember to bring bullets.”
The phone clicks dead.
Helen rushes back into the living room. The children are on the floor playing with crayons and paper.
“Come on, children, take your things. …We’re going to stay in your parents’ room for a while.”
“Why?” Lateasha asks, looking up at Helen.
“Don’t ask why,” says Trent, picking up his crayons and paper. “Momma said to do whatever Mrs. Haywood tells us to do.”
Helen ushers both children into the back bedroom. They all sit down on the floor behind the door, far from the window. Helen holds her purse in her lap; she keeps her hand in it, gripping tightly onto the gun.
The children keep themselves occupied with their drawing. When it approaches their normal bedtime, Trent puts his head down on the carpet and falls asleep. Lateasha continues with her artwork. Helen looks over at the collage of shapes and colors on the little girl’s large piece of paper.
“Can you tell me about your drawing?” Helen asks softly, not wanting to wake Trent.
Lateasha starts pointing to the different shapes and interpreting her work to Helen.
“This is Noah’s ark,” she says proudly.
“And who are those two people on the ark?”
“That’s you, and that one is the devil, and you’re both fighting.”
A shiver comes over Helen.
“And who is that in the sky?”
“That is an angel of the Lord. He’s throwing lightning bolts at the devil to kill him and stop him from hurting you.”
“I hope to God you’re right, child,” Helen whispers.
After a while, Lateasha also can no longer keep her eyes open. She, too, falls asleep on the carpet.
Helen gently takes each child, one by one, and places them on their parents’ bed. Neither Trent nor Lateasha does more than murmur softly during the transfer. Then, Helen turns off all the lights and opens the bedroom door. She positions herself on the floor at the end of the hallway. From that location, she has a good view of the sleeping children and the bedroom window. As well, she has a clear view down the hallway to the front door.
The bedroom window and the front door are the only possible ways he can get to the children, if he lied about going up to the lake to meet her.
Helen sits in the dark, never taking her hand off the gun, alternating her gaze from the window to the front door and back. She sits for what seems like hours, determined to stay vigilant.
Finally, she hears the rattle of keys at the front door. Most likely it is John and Tina returning home, but Helen isn’t going to take the slightest chance. She stands up, holds the gun in both hands, and sets her aim square center on the front door. When the door opens, she clearly sees two silhouettes in the doorway: it is John and Tina.
“Why are all the lights out?” Tina asks aloud as she flicks the light switch on at the front door.
Helen picks her purse from the floor, places the gun in it, and tucks it under her arm. She walks up the hallway toward them.
“Helen, is everything all right?” Tina asks.
Helen is pale and shivering.
“The children are fine, Tina. Both of them are asleep on your bed. They’re both fine. I realize this doesn’t look good…not what you expected to come home to, and I’m sorry. Someday I may be able to explain it to you, but right now I can’t, and I have to be going.”
Tina rushes to the back bedroom, and a moment later returns.
“The babies are all right,” Tina says to her husband.
“Helen, I don’t understand,” says John, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Please, John, don’t ask me to explain now.”
Tina takes hold of Helen’s hand and speaks to her softly.
“Helen, if there’s something wrong, you can tell us. We care for you; we’re your friends.”
“I can’t,” says Helen. “I have to go!”
“You’re in no condition to drive. Let John drive you home. You don’t mind, do you, John?”
“No, of course not.”
Helen pulls herself away and starts running for the door.
“I’m sorry. …Forgive me…I have to go!” she cries, slamming the front door behind her.
John and Tina rush after her and open the front door, only in time to see Helen’s car screeching off into the distance.
***
Foolishly, Helen drives at breakneck speed down the main highway. Thankfully, there are few cars on the road at that hour – and she is lucky not to encounter any police.
The salt in her tears burns her eyes so badly; she continually wipes her eyes with her handkerchief. She swerves in and out of her lane, never slowing down for an instant until she has to slam on the brakes to slow down for the turn off, which she nearly misses. The tires screech in her ears.
Once on the turn-off road, she hammers her foot down again on the gas pedal – rocketing into the night.
Barreling down the dark country road, Helen has only the white line to guide her. Now and then, she reaches across and places her hand in her purse and takes a firm grip on the gun. Somehow it gives her comfort.
Even she cannot believe what she is doing. But talking to him on the phone – the way he threatened to harm the children – that is the breaking point.
Besides, she is tired of living in fear. To live with a sword dangling over her head, with no relief in sight – nothing has helped. Sessions with Angela have not helped. The police are no help; they are no closer to keeping her safe than when they first started. Now she must take matters into her own hands. One way or another, she’ll be free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
By the Light of the Silvery Moon
Off in the distance, Helen sees a small white speck on the horizon becoming larger as it comes closer. A minute later, it is on her. Going as fast as she is, there’s little time to read the signpost that says, “Sandy Beach – one mile ahead.”
She slams on the brakes when she sees the entrance to the park. But at such high-speed, her tires are unable to take hold of the gravel road. The car spins out of control, off the road and down into a small gully. The engine dies.
Helen takes stock of herself; she isn’t hurt. She turns the car key, only to hear the choking sound of the engine trying to kick over.
She waits a moment and tries again – still nothing. She decides to abandon the car. Reaching under her seat, she produces a flashlight. She tries it; the batteries are still good. In her other hand she takes the gun.
She doesn’t bother to close the door of the car. The ding-ding-ding of the car door alarm fades as she makes her way down the dirt road entrance to the park.
The sky is becoming clear. Clouds are drifting slowly off into the distance, leaving the nearly full moon as the sole object in the sky. Its light washes over everything with a dim blue haze.
Helen sees beyond the long row of trees that line both sides of the road and the “Sandy Beach” sign spelled out in horseshoes and past the parking lot.
Helen looks around. The parking lot is deserted. The crunching gravel under her feet is all she hears till she gets closer to the lake. Then sand covers the ground, and her footsteps go silent.
She walks past the picnic area and to the lake and then along the beach. Looking out, the water is still and dark – like a monstrous black mirror with only the near-full moon’s reflection in it. The lake’s only blemish is the white wooden platform in its center. The still, inky water gives the illusion it is floating midair.
When she comes to the diving board, she turns and shines the flashlight down the trail leading into the woods and starts down it.
Her breathing becomes labored; she hears her heart pounding in her ears. Her nervous hand shakes the gun from side to side. She worries if she will be able to aim properly.
Finally, she comes to the clear
ing. She is alone, yet she has the distinct feeling of being watched.
Slowly, Helen moves the flashlight beam over the ground, over rocks and stones, sand and grass – nothing out of the ordinary.
Then the light shines on a man’s hiking boot. She guides the beam up the pant legs, across his chest, and then stops – spotlighting his face covered with a black ski mask.
Helen is shaking like a leaf in the wind; she feels hot and cold all at once.
“I’ve come,” she whispers.
The dark figure just stands there – motionless and silent.
“Well, say something, damn you!”
Her words echo back at them from off the lake.
“I’m so sorry it has to be this way,” he says shyly – his voice no longer dark and gravelly.
He slowly reaches up and pulls off the ski mask.
It is Kyle.
“I’m so sorry it has to end this way,” he says.
“Kyle?” is all she can say in her confusion.
“You’re a girl, and girls were never meant to be in the club,” he speaks as if making a decree. “And now that the club is being dissolved, so are we…all its members.”
“What are you talking about, Kyle?” Helen’s voice cracks – half from fear, half from crying.
“It’s all over,” says Kyle. “No one gets out of the club alive. I’m sorry, Nancy.”
“I’m not Nancy!” Helen cries, tears roll down her face. “Kyle…it’s me…Helen. I’m not Nancy!”
Kyle reaches behind his back and pulls out a large hunting knife.
“I’m so sorry,” Kyle repeats as he slowly starts toward her.
“I’ve got a gun, Kyle!” Helen screams, holding out her arm straight and pointing the gun in his direction. “I’ll use it, Kyle…I swear!”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, continuing to come at her.
Helen closes her eyes and pulls the trigger. The shot roars like a cannon, echoing off the lake. She opens her eyes; she missed. The tears in her eyes make it difficult for her to see, and her shaking hand is causing her aim to be off.
This time, she keeps her eyes open. The bullet grazes the shoulder of his jacket. It does not deter him.
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