Sleeping Helena (13 page)

The kitchen doors were locked. She pounded on one and waited for Hope, ever so slow, to open it. She strode past the old maid, who let the door close behind her as Helena sat at the table. Hunks of meat and cheeses were spread out on cutting boards and vegetables were stacked beside bowls of flour and spices. The knife Hope was using to cut the meat lay carelessly on its side. Helena raised it to her face, held it in front of her like a mirror and gazed into its blade. She frowned and threw it back down. She could find no beauty in that.

“I want something to eat.”

“Happy birthday,” Hope said as she reached for a fresh loaf of bread.

Helena gulped down a glass of milk. “What are you going to give me? Not the same old knitted sweater, I hope.”

“The very same.”

“What color this year?”

“Red. It is a good color, don’t you think?”

“I’m getting a better gift than that. You can keep the sweater, I don’t want it.” Helena smiled, her teeth perfectly white and even behind wide, scarlet lips.

Hope buttered the bread.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” Helena teased.

“Not particularly.” Hope slid a plate of bread slathered with cherry jam towards Helena, who devoured it within minutes while watching Hope slice an apple.

Hope never changed. She cut things up and put them together, day after day, and every year gave Helena the most useless gifts. Hope’s nature disturbed Helena. She was too simple to comprehend.

“What do you know about the gifts my aunts gave me?”

The question did not surprise Hope; she’d expected it years ago. She wasn’t going to give Helena the answers she sought, but Hope did say enough to distract her.

“It was during your christening. People arrived from all over the world—it’s a wonder the house held so many. It wasn’t as large as this one. You were a little darling. Everyone loved you immediately.”

Helena looked at Hope strangely. Her aunts had never spoken of her so. “We didn’t live in this house?”

“No dear, we lived in America.”

“I wasn’t born here?” Helena’s opinion of Hope was instantly revised. She knew things and was willing to share them. “I was born in another country?”

“That’s right.” Hope wiped the table.

“You were at my christening.” Helena watched Hope’s face. “You probably knew about the gifts, too.”

Hope was relieved when Thekla entered the kitchen, her face flush with excitement and her breath coming short. She interrupted the pair without notice.

“There you are. I want to talk to you about your party.” Thekla swept towards Helena, her head held high.

Helena wrinkled her nose. Thekla acted as though she loved Helena’s parties as much as Helena did.

Thekla gathered her skirts and sat carefully on a chair. She looked like she’d been awake for hours already, fretting and worrying about the evening to come. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her breath came in quick gasps.

She cleared her throat. “Listen carefully. The guests will begin to arrive at four o’clock and you must be available to greet them. The party starts promptly at six. I will be making an important announcement and it is crucial you hear it.”

“What kind of announcement?”

Helena had expected the usual boring toasts and speeches. This must be something special.

“I can tell you no more,” Thekla smiled innocently, “but it has to do with one of your presents.”

Helena felt a surge of hunger and reached for another plate of food. Could it be true? Would Thekla change her mind and reveal the gift? Excitement charged through her. All of them were scheming and for the first time in her life, Helena felt as though she might not be the spider, but something caught in its web. It made her a little sick, but she squashed it. All that mattered was that she find Kitty’s gift and she would, this very night. Helena’s priorities fell like beads on an abacus and settled into place.

“I’ll be in my room, should anyone want me. I will not have a chaperone today.” Helena let the door slam shut behind her.

The guests began to arrive in late afternoon as predicted. The sunny morning had turned dark and grey by noon; rain now lashed from heavy skies, but that did not stop them. Helena watched from her bedroom window as Herr Krieger, stalwart old historian, climbed the stairs to the front door. He wore the same frown on his face as he did to her lessons. Most of the guests would be family, but her tutors would be there and they always knew what she liked. She’d get good gifts, but none would compare to Kitty’s.

She opened the wardrobe and clothes spilled out around her. She reached for the dress she’d ordered: lush velvet of the darkest crimson, a strap over one shoulder, skin-tight. Her aunts didn’t like it, but they could not say no. Helena brushed out her hair one last time, smoothed the dress over her hips and went lightly down the great, curving stair to the hallway where her aunts greeted the guests. She was caught and held as they streamed past in a happy blur of kisses, handshakes, and stale perfume. She waved each one by, paying scarce attention to any, when suddenly a hush fell over the crowd. Helena turned towards the door and froze in place.

The woman entering was old as gravedust, but her eyes glittered with life as they focused on Helena’s face. Something in Helena was jarred out of place; she felt the ground give way beneath her feet. Aunt Kitty waited for a kiss.

Thekla broke the silence. “Kitty, please join us.”

Only Eva had known Kitty was invited; the other sisters gasped and stuttered as they nodded their greetings. Kitty passed by quickly and stopped in front of Helena.

“My goodness,” she said, “how you’ve grown.”

Seven sisters drew in their breaths.

“You’ve seen me before.” Helena recovered her balance. She was looking forward to this.

“I was at your christening, dear girl. I apologize for staying away so very long.” She smiled graciously at Thekla and bowed her head. Her sisters sighed as one.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” Helena’s impeccable manners were a lure for the unwary, but Kitty did not play children’s games.

Kitty spoke quietly into Helena’s ear. “You and I must talk.”

Before Helena could stop her, Kitty walked away.

The stream of guests finally came to an end and Helena entered the ballroom, dazzled by what she saw. Above her head, planets turned while stars spun their light into high corners. Black cloth covered the ceiling; the only thing visible in the heights was the cosmos, gaily turning above the milling guests.

The mountain of presents was enormous, but tempting as they appeared, she knew none were what she wanted.

She scanned the crowd for her oldest aunt, but didn’t see her anywhere. The buffet table was laden with enough food to fill everyone’s bellies two or three times. Guests plucked at delicacies, piled hunks of meat upon their plates and drank of hearty fresh beer and the fine aged wines dredged up from the well-secured cellars. Thekla sat in a cushioned chair behind the high table on which the presents were piled. She was a queen surveying her court, and what a grand court it was. Helena even saw Hope, standing next to Aunt Ingeburg. She looked like a tarnished clasp in a necklace of diamonds.
Poor Hope
, Helena laughed. She tried, but she didn’t belong there.

Hope rarely left her kitchen, it was true, but she had her reasons. The kitchen was Hope’s storehouse and she didn’t feel comfortable out of it. She did what she had to in the other rooms of the house—dusted lightly, changed linens, swept out the halls and served coffee—but she was content to spend most of her time at the great kitchen table. It was there that she’d lined up her ingredients and filled the little leather pouch. It was there that she’d spoken ancient words over it. It was there that Thekla had leaned toward her and said, “Don’t let Helena out of your sight.”

Hope studied the ballroom carefully, took note of the guests and watched Helena as she peered through the room, obviously searching for someone. Hope knew what was happening. Kitty was there to unleash her monster, but Kitty was in for a surprise. Hope was skilled at hiding herself, especially from eyes such as Kitty’s. Hope squinted in Helena’s direction and reached for the pouch at her neck.

Dread filled her—it wasn’t there. She had worked years of magic in preparation for this night and then forgotten the pouch in the kitchen. Age gets us all in the end, she thought, before going to retrieve it.

Helena watched Hope leave the ballroom. She was just about to turn and follow when she heard someone whisper her name.

“Helena.”

Helena caught it between two conversations and followed it to its source. It was Aunt Eva.

“Come with me. Kitty would like a word with you.” Eva held out her hand. Her face was expressionless.

“I thought she was waiting for Thekla’s announcement.” A thrill went through Helena’s body; she rubbed her hands together without realizing it.

“Announcement? What are you talking about? Kitty would like to speak with you privately, if you do not mind.”

Helena eagerly followed Aunt Eva. Thekla probably hadn’t told them that she had changed her mind about Kitty’s gift. It was just more of her aunts’ deviousness, Helena thought angrily. Instead of joining hands around their god in devotion, as any sensible followers should, they fought over which one followed best.

The crowd paid them no attention as it parted and reformed around them. No one noticed their exit, not even Thekla, who was trying to keep her eye on everyone all at once. At the back of the house they entered an empty room. Rarely used, it contained little more than a long sofa and a few cushioned chairs. Wide, tall windows looked out onto the dead roses. Their feeble stems scratched against the glass as a quick wind blew by the house. On one of the chairs sat Kitty, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Eva, red-faced, shut the door behind her as she left them alone in the room.

“My dear Helena. I am so glad to see you again.” She smiled, a red slash carved into a wrinkled face that might have scared a different girl.

“Why?” Helena was intrigued.

“Because I am your aunt, that is why.”

“Where is my gift?” Helena wondered if Kitty would make it as difficult as the rest of them did.

Kitty surprised Helena. She reached behind her neck and undid the clasp of a chain that she pulled from beneath the collar of her dress. She lifted it free of the folds and Helena saw, dangling from its end, a small silver key. Kitty held it out.

Helena took it in her hand, studied its shape. “What does it open?”

“It unlocks a door, Helena.”

“What will I find when I open it?” Helena already knew, but she wanted to hear Kitty say it.

“The gift you seek, of course. It is time for you to have it.”

Helena’s hand closed over the key. She would not let Kitty know that every bone in her body was screaming for her to use it. There was one more thing to ask before she did.

“Tell me about your brother.”

Kitty’s smile fell just a little and she hesitated before she spoke. Helena watched the rise and fall of her chest intently, wondering at the vast age with which her aunt confronted her.

Kitty sighed. “He was very kind, and very young when he died. That is the past, Helena. Attend to the present.”

“Where do I find the door?” Helena held up the key. She was too impatient for more. She was shaking with hunger for it, and for him.

“It is through another, just there behind you.” Kitty looked down at her wristwatch.

“You have just enough time to open it.”

Helena turned her head to look behind her. All she saw was the window. She looked back at Kitty, who nodded.

“It is there.”

Helena put her hands on the glass and looked up at the curtain rod stretched above the frame. The curtains moved, though the windows were closed. She went over to them, brushed them aside and revealed a slender door. She rattled the ancient handle. The door opened onto a stairway leading into the wall.

“Should I go up?” she turned to ask Kitty, as though unsure.

“Yes.”