The Heaven Trilogy (104 page)

Jan stared at Karen, wondering what other motive lay behind her sudden plea for reason. “Then, you don't understand either, Karen. The world doesn't turn on reason alone. It's a matter of love. I love her. Desperately. Surely
you
, of all people, can understand that.”

He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She did not answer.

Barney cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “You can't always follow your heart,” he said. “Not when it defies reason. God's given man a mind for good reason. We all know the pull of love. Love is blind and full of passion and, yes, reason hardly stands a chance. But it must, don't you see? All that is good and decent depends on it. You cannot just leave your mind to follow your heart's whims. There are greater issues at stake.”

Jan felt anger rise again. “Such pretty words from a great lover, I am sure. But let me tell you, Father Micheal's love for God was not born of his mind alone. No, it came first from his heart. He was desperate for God and glad to die for him. Your words of reason will drain the heart of its power.”

He turned to the others, leaning forward now. “I'll tell you, I've been given a very small slice of God's love for Helen and it makes my knees weak in her presence. You're suggesting I face God and tell him to keep his heart? Because a leader in the church said it was
unreasonable?
That's your position on this matter?”

“Of course not!” Frank said. “We're telling you to do what is right! But I can see that you're too selfish with this love of yours to consider what consequences your decision might have on the rest of the church. This is not simply about you and your feelings for one woman. The greater good of the church must be considered.”

“The greater good of the church, you say. And the church is the Bride of Christ. So what is the greatest good for the Bride?”

“You're twisting my words to suit your own means! The Bride is not this one woman. The Bride is the church, millions strong. It is she you must consider.”

“Love for the masses outweighs love for the few, is that it? Then let me suggest that God would quickly choose the true love—the unbridled, passionate love—of one soul over the acknowledgment of his deity from a hundred million churchgoing souls!”

“You demean the church?” Roald challenged.

“No, Roald,
you
demean the church. You mock the Bride. You undermine the value of love. The universe was created in the hopes of distilling a portion of genuine love. And now you suggest ignoring such love in favor of creating a moving picture for a profit. Nothing will ever compare to love, brother. Not all the devices man's mind can conceive, not a hundred thousand bulls slaughtered on the Day of Atonement. Nothing!”

Roald frowned. “And you have the spiritual pride to assume that you alone now possess God's love in your own heart? This love for an adulterous woman?”

“No, not me alone. But it's no different than God's love for an adulterous nation. For Israel. No different than his deep love for the church. His bride. You.”

The leader found nothing to say. For a moment Jan thought he might see the light. But after blinking a few times, Roald set his jaw and pushed his chair back. “This is crazy. I can't believe we're even thinking of throwing this away because of one . . . The way you speak smells of heresy.” He stood. “Well, Jan Jovic, I told you this once, but I'll tell you now for the last time. If the woman stays, then we go.” As if on cue Frank and Barney stood with Roald.

“We've had enough of this nonsense. I assume you called us here to ask for our support. And now you have our conditions. I only hope that God speaks some sense to your heart.”

“Yes, well you may pray for me, Roald. You do remember how to do that, don't you?”

Roald glared at Jan then huffed from the room with Frank and Barney.

Karen blew out some air and crossed her legs. “Well,
that
was quite a speech.”

“Perhaps I expressed myself too strongly.”

Betty spoke quietly. “I don't think so. I think you said what you needed to say. I've never heard such wonderful words.” Her kind eyes smiled, and Jan thought that asking for her attendance was perhaps the only part of the meeting that had come off as planned.

“Thank you, Betty. You're very kind.”

Karen grinned. “You certainly left no doubt as to where you stand. You're really going out on a limb this time, aren't you, Jan?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. What was happening?
Father, what have you done to me? You're stripping me of all you've given me.

And now Glenn was threatening worse. How had he managed this impossible turn of events? He pictured the heavy man standing with bloodied hands in his office just yesterday, and now seeing the man's twisted smile, fear lapped at Jan's mind. The man was capable of anything.

“Jan.”

He opened his eyes. Karen studied him. “You know on one level I can understand what you're doing.”

“Yes? What am I doing, Karen?
I
don't even know what I'm doing.”

“You're staying by the side of an unfaithful woman, that's what you're doing. And in staying by her side, you're throwing away the kind of life that most people can only dream about.”

“Maybe.” Jan looked at the chalkboard to their left. The figures of the new edition's intended distribution sprawled in white numbers, still vivid from the planning meeting during which they'd been drawn three weeks ago. “Or perhaps I've found the kind of love that most people only dream about. Anything less would be meaningless.”

“Perhaps. That's the level I can understand. I look at you, and I find it hard to believe that you actually love her that way. It tears me up, you know. That could have been me you were speaking about.” She shifted her gaze. “It's your sticking by her when she doesn't deserve you that I can't understand. That you love an unfaithful woman so much.”

It was the first time they had spoken so candidly of Helen. Betty's eyes shone with understanding. Jan looked at Karen. “I'm sorry, Karen. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please tell me you know that.”

“Maybe,” she said. She was barely smiling and that was a good thing.

“I swear, Karen. I'm not sure I even understand it myself.”

“This could change your life, you know? You could lose everything.”

“The studio won't back down?”

“I don't know. It does seem crazy, doesn't it?” She shook her head. “This is all happening too quickly. You don't actually think Lutz would hurt Ivena, do you?”

“Of course he would! You don't know the man.”

“Then you should go to the police,” Betty said. “You hurt a man who threatened you. It may not be the act of a saint, but it's not the end of the world.”

“She's right,” Karen agreed. “That may be your only hope now.
Our
only hope; you're not the only one who stands to lose on this.”

“I came here hoping that Roald could pull some strings. Either way, I've already arranged to meet the police in the morning.”

“Good.” Karen stood and Betty followed suit.

“And what if Glenn isn't bluffing?” Jan asked.

Karen walked to the door and shrugged. She faced him. “I think you're doing the right thing, Jan. I want you to know that. Your love for her is a good thing. I see that now.”

“Thank you, Karen.”

She smiled. “We've pulled through some bad times before.”

“None this bad,” he said.

“No, none this bad.”

Then she left.

Betty patted him lightly on the shoulder. “I will pray for you, son. And in the end, you'll see. This will all make sense.”

“Thank you, Betty.”

She too left him, now all alone.

Jan lowered his head to the table and he cried.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“The day of death [is] better than the day of birth. It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting.”

Ecclesiastes 7:1–2
NIV

JAN PULLED the Cadillac onto the overrun driveway leading to Joey's cottage. He drove slowly, listening to the crunch of gravel under the car's tires.
Father, you have abandoned me. You have given me everything only to strip it away.

Joey's Pinto was missing. Perhaps the gardener had gone for supplies.

Jan parked the Cadillac and walked to the house. He'd reached the first step up to the porch when the door flew open. It was Ivena. She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Hello, Ivena.”

Suddenly Joey pushed past her.

“Hello, Joey. I—”

A buzz erupted in his mind. He instinctively turned to where the Pinto should have been. But of course it was not there.

“Where's Helen?”

“Janjic. Janjic, please come in. We were worried.”

He spun to her. “Where is Helen?” he shouted.

“We think she took the car,” Joey said.

Jan closed his mouth and swallowed. He stared at Ivena and she looked back, her eyes misted with anguish. He wanted to ask her how long Helen had been gone, but that didn't matter, did it?

No, nothing really mattered. Not anymore. She had gone back. His bride had gone back.

Jan suddenly felt such a shame that he thought he might break into a wail right there on the front step. He whirled from them and fled down the path leading into the garden. Overhead, thunder boomed and he stumbled forward, through the hedge, and now a growling sound escaped his throat. It was a moan that he felt powerless to stop. His chest was exploding and he could not contain himself.

He plunged through the garden without thinking of where his feet carried him; he only wanted to leave this place. It was a place of treachery and mockery and the worst kind of pain. It was not what he wanted. Now he only wanted death.

“SHOULD WE go after him?” Joey asked.

“No. It is something he must face on his own,” Ivena said. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

“Are you sure he'll be okay?”

“He is walking through hell, my friend. He is dying inside. I don't know what will happen. All I know is that we are witnessing something the world has rarely seen in such a plain way. It makes you want to throw yourself at the foot of the cross and beg for forgiveness.”

Joey looked at her, a puzzled look on his face.

She turned to him and smiled. “You will understand soon enough. Now we should pray that our Father will visit Janjic.” Then she walked into the cottage.

HELEN TOLD herself that her decision to go was for Jan's sake. She told herself that a hundred times.

As a matter of fact, it had been her first thought. That first seed that had taken root in her mind.
Maybe you can talk some sense into him. Maybe Glenn will listen to you.
That had been around noon, before she really had time to mull the possibilities through her mind.

By midafternoon her thoughts had become as stormy as the skies rumbling overhead. No matter how strenuously she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew then that she actually wanted to go back. That she
had
to go back. And not just to tell Glenn that he was being a baby about this whole mess, but because butterflies were flapping wildly in her stomach and her throat was craving a taste.

By late afternoon a perpetual tremor rode her bones. The possibility of pleasure had taken up residence and was growing at an obscene rate. Her reason began to leave her at four. Questions like,
How could you even think of doing this again?
or
Who in God's name would stoop so low?
became vague oddities, worth noting, but hardly worth considering. At five her reason was totally gone. She stopped trying to convince herself of anything and began planning her escape.

The fact that Joey left the keys in the yellow Pinto made leaving that much easier. She would have the car back before they knew it was missing. Ivena was off talking to Joey in the garden about some new species of rose; they wouldn't know if a meteor struck the house.

By the time Helen pulled into the underground parking structure at the Towers, she was sweating. She very nearly turned the car around then in a last-minute flash of sense. But she didn't. She stepped onto the concrete and suddenly she was desperate to be upstairs, high on the thirtieth floor.

To tell Glenn what a baby he was being about this whole mess, of course.

Just that. Just to step in for Jan and call the pig off Ivena and save the day. And to take a tiny snort. Or maybe two snorts.

JAN CLIPPED his foot on a small shrub rounding a corner and sprawled face first to the cool sod. He lay there numb for a few moments. Then it all gushed out of him in uncontrollable sobs. He lay there and shook and wet the grass with his tears.

Time seemed to lose itself, but at some point Jan hauled himself from the ground and settled into a heavily flowered gazebo. Thunder continued to rumble, but farther away now.

Jan slumped on the gazebo bench and stared at the black shapes of bushes lining the lawn before him like tombstones. Slowly his mind pieced together his predicament. He was hiding from the police, but that was the least of it. The price his imprudence would extract from him would be relatively small compared to what he'd lost with Helen's leaving.

The rug was being pulled from beneath his feet, he thought.
The Dance of the Dead
was finding its death. And not mercifully, but with savage brutality. Karen was right: Everything would change if they canceled the movie. The ministry, his notoriety, the castle he was building for his bride. It would all be snatched away— leaving him with what?

His bride.

Ha!

His bride! Jan trembled with fury in the small shelter. For the first time since entering the garden he spoke aloud.

“Father, I want you to take this from me. I cannot live with this!” His voice came in a soft growl and then grew in volume. “You hear me? I hate this! Take her from me. I beg you. You have given me a curse. She's a curse.”