What ever happened to Helena G. Wells? Chapter 8

[athena_mou]

Myka curled up on the bed as Helen sat down in one of the arm chairs.

“Well?” Myka asked.

“She’s fine Myka,” Helen said and smiled at her. “We spent some time on the roof.

Myka’s eyes grew big. “You brought her up on the roof?!? Are you insane? What if she…”

Helen cut her off. “Don’t you think I had taken precautions against that? Do you really think that I am so stupid I would have allowed Helena to hurt herself? Really Myka, have you learned nothing from me?”

Myka flinched when Helen’s harsh words hit her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about her.”

Helen walked over and pulled the upset young woman into her arms. “I know darling, but you need to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“I do,” Myka said in a small voice.

“Come sit with me,” Helen said gently and led Myka over to the couch. She watched Myka pull her legs underneath her, as if making herself as small as possible. “Myka, what do you know about the world Helena and I grew up in?”

Myka looked up at her. “Not much. Why?”

“As cliché as it might sound, Helena’s childhood and upbringing has a lot to do with why she was so susceptible to the cape’s power.”

“How come?” Myka asked curious.

“Let me tell you about the first time I met her,” Helen said and smiled. “She was nine years old, and she was very upset.”

“Why?” Myka asked. “Was she hurt?”

Helen shook her head. “Not physically, but definitely mentally. Her father had yet again lectured her on the proper behavior for a young lady. He never laid hands on her, ever. Surprising really,” Helen noted. “But what he did with his words was a hundred times more powerful, and extremely damaging.” Helen looked her in the eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you that the reason that she was crying her heart out alone that afternoon was because she had committed the simple crime of wearing a pair of boy’s trousers?”

Myka gasped. “What happened?”

“Her playmates as a child were all boys. She wanted to run like them, climb trees like them and ride horses like them. Wearing dresses did not make that easy.”

Myka nodded.

“So on this particular day she had taken a pair of boy’s trousers that were hanging on the clothes line. They probably belonged to one of the cook’s boys. She had then ordered the stable lad to saddle one of the horses using what you would call an English saddle. She was racing her two friends when her father spotted her. He was furious. Not only was his daughter behaving like a heathen, his words, not mine, but she was dressed like a boy and her hair was not tied up.”

Myka could envision how beautiful she must have been. Laughing, with rosy cheeks and her hair blowing in the wind behind her as the horse carried her to victory.

“I held her that afternoon until she stopped crying. I talked to her and finally coaxed the whole story out of her. I was horrified. In that moment I decided to make my stay with the Wells family longer. I ended up staying for almost two months. We became friends, little Helena and I,” she said and smiled. “She tagged along with me everywhere I went. She was so sweet.”

Myka smiled. “I wish I could’ve seen it,” she whispered.

Helen smiled and thought for a moment. “I might have a drawing of her somewhere. I’ll look.”

“Please go on. What happened?”

“Do you know who George Sand was?” Helen asked, anticipating the answer.

Myka rolled her eyes. “I grew up in a bookstore, so yeah, I know who she was. Why?”

“She’s Helena’s great aunt.”

Myka’s eyes grew so big Helen was afraid they would pop out of her head. “George Sand was Helena’s great aunt?” she repeated. “Wow. I knew she grew up surrounded by important people, but I had no idea.”

Helen nodded. “She did. I’ll tell you more about that some other time, or perhaps she’ll tell you herself. Most of that happened later in her life, but George was there when she was growing up. It’s actually from her that Helena got the idea to wear trousers,” Helen said with a sad smile. “She adored her great auntie GG as she called her. I think GG inspired her to do many of the things she did later on in life.”

Myka nodded fascinated.

“Do you know that Helena’s middle initial stands for George?”

“No I didn’t. After George Sand?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Myka said again. “I guess Ophelia doesn’t even come close to that,” she mumbled.

Helen laughed. “GG gave Helena some balance. She allowed her to be herself. They talked for hours at a time; GG never growing tired of answering Helena’s steady stream of questions. She was such a curious child.”

“I can see that,” Myka said and laughed.

“GG also convinced her to learn to play the piano, something Helena had refused before. I remember once when her father asked her to play for their guests. Helena refused. Hands on hips she stomped her foot telling him no. She was actually quite adorable. Not that I would’ve told her that. All I could do was trying not to laugh out loud,” Helen said and laughed at the memory. “Then suddenly GG was there. She put Helena on her lap and started telling her about her time in Mallorca with Chopin. She had been teaching Helena some of his work. She asked her if she remembered the sound of the rain. Helena, eager to please her mentor and great auntie, nodded. GG asked her to show her, and that was it. She played the most beautiful version of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude that afternoon.” Helen got a faraway look in her eyes, and Myka realized that she was lost in the memory.

“I’ve never heard her play,” she whispered. “I didn’t even know that she played the piano.”

Helen nodded. “That’s why I’m telling you all of this. I want you to learn about where she comes from. You need to embrace all of her in order to help her.” She took Myka’s hands and looked at her. “Helena was told that she was bad, that she was a wicked little girl, so many times growing up, that it infested her soul. She started to believe that she was bad, and no matter what she did, she would get in trouble. So she stopped caring and just existed. I saw it slowly happen over the years, but it wasn’t until years later when I met her again in London that I finally saw true challenge and rebellion in her eyes. She had left her father’s house to settle in London. She was twenty years old. A free spirit. The liberal circles in London welcomed her with open arms. For the first time in her life she was free to do almost what she wanted. She drank, played cards, loved and partied. What did it matter? She would get in trouble no matter what.”

“You said you met her again,” Myka said encouraging her to continue.

Helen nodded, conflicted as to how much she should reveal.

Helen’s sudden silence confused Myka and she looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Finally it dawned on her. “That’s when you became lovers,” she said quietly.

Helen nodded. “I fought the attraction. I thought it was wrong. In the end it didn’t matter. She had made the decision for both of us, and I wasn’t able to resist.”

Myka chuckled. “Yeah, she can be pretty pushy when she wants something.”

“How true,” Helen said and smiled.

Myka looked curiously at her. “You said that you knew her as a child, but then you were also lovers. How much older are you?”

Helen chuckled. “My dear Myka, are you asking a lady about her age?” she teased.

Myka grinned. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Helen smiled and tilted her head. “I’m thirteen years older than Helena. When we became lovers she was twenty and I was thirty-three.”

“But didn’t you just say that she was twenty when she arrived in London?” Myka asked confused.

Helen nodded. “The reason Myka, that Helena and I will forever be connected is twofold, I saved her as a child, and…” she looked straight at Myka. “I was her first lover.”

Myka nodded, finally understanding. She was annoyed and embarrassed about the jealous feelings that burned inside of her. It was in the past, and she could do nothing about it. She looked at Helen. “Thank you for trusting me. And thank you for saving her.”

Helen nodded.

After Helen left she lay awake in bed thinking about Helena, trying to envision her as a young and carefree woman in 1880s London. Then images of her with Helen caused her eyes to fill up with tears. She knew the strength of that bond. Most lovers are forgotten over the years and fade into the past, but never your first one.

*   *   *   *   *

Helen poured herself another cup of tea. She glanced at Helena sitting at her desk writing. She waited until she paused before speaking. “Helena darling, would you like another cup?”

“Huh?” Helena looked at her. She had been so deep in thought she had forgotten that Helen was still there. “Yes please,” she said and walked over to where Helen was sitting on the couch. She watched as Helen expertly prepared her tea just the way she liked it. She smiled at her as she handed her the cup. “Thank you.”

Helen smiled and picked up her own cup again. “I was talking to Myka last night.”

Helena gave her a sharp look. “About what?”

“You, me, London, George, many things,” she said and looked into the tan beverage in her cup.

“Did you tell her about us?” Helena asked softly.

“Not in great detail, but yes.”

Helen met Helena’s dark eyes in a challenge. Finally Helena nodded and looked away. “Thank you for doing that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“No it wasn’t, but she deserves to know. She’s starting to feel jealous.”

Helena smiled sadly. “You don’t want me anyway, so there really is no reason for her to feel that way.”

“Don’t you understand? It’s not my feelings that matter to her, but yours. She knows that you still love me.”

Helena nodded. “I do,” she said and smiled. “I probably always will.”

“Any now she knows why our bond is so strong.”

“Because you were my first,” Helena whispered. She looked up at Helen and a mischievous smile started to form on her lips. “You do realize that I fell in love with you long before that?”

Helen smiled. “You were always mature for your age. And nosy too. I still can’t believe that you spied on me.”

Helena laughed out loud. “God how I’ve missed you Helen,” she said and kissed her cheek. “I was very jealous of Catherine you know,” she said, her eyes twinkled.

“Is that why you put a frog in her bed?”

Helena laughed out loud. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“She was not amused,” Helen laughed.

“She deserved it,” Helena said and grinned.

“Why? For loving me?”

Helena nodded. “You allowed her to share things with you that I could only dream about.”

“Well, if you, miss nosy had stayed out of my room, you would’ve known nothing about those things.”

“Instead I got a firsthand lady love show,” Helena said and roared with laughter at Helen’s obvious discomfort.

“You were twelve years old Helena. You should not have seen that.”

Helena shrugged. “Didn’t seem to hurt me much. And as much as I was jealous of Catherine, she was hot.”

Helen gently swatted at her. “Oh hush now.”

She laughed. “You do have good taste in women Helen,” she mused. “Seems like you prefer long dark hair and eyes,” she teased.

“Oh do be quiet, Helena,” she said embarrassed.

Helena laughed again. It just felt so good to laugh with Helen. She took her hand. “Thank you for bringing back the good memories and for making me laugh again.”

Helen smiled at her and nodded. “We did have a lot of good times, didn’t we?”

Helena nodded. “So what else did you tell Myka about my sordid past?”

Helen chuckled and pulled away from her. “I told her about George, and the day when you played Chopin for us.”

Helena smiled. “I remember that. You know I really only played for the two of you.”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still beautiful,” Helen said softly. “I miss it.”

Helen took her hand. “Would you like me to play for you?”

Helen looked at her and nodded, but then hesitated for a moment.

Helena smirked. “If you can trust me up on the roof, I think it’s fair to say that there’s little I can do with a piano,” she teased.

Helen laughed and nodded. “All right. Let’s go upstairs. Maybe we’ll have dinner too.”

*   *   *   *   *

Helena sat down by the grand piano and gently caressed the keys. She smiled at the soft, familiar feel. She was just about to start playing when her fingertip felt something oddly familiar on one of the keys. She startled and stared at the ivory key and the scratch on it. She looked up at Helen for confirmation.

“It’s the same piano,” Helen confirmed.

“Wow,” she said amazed and touched the dark wood. “I played for you on this very piano that night,” she whispered.

“I remember,” Helen said softly and put her hand on Helena’s shoulder.

“You sat down next to me and thanked me,” she whispered. “and then you kissed me.”

Helen nodded, unable to speak.

“I had never felt more loved in my life than that night with you,” Helena whispered. “You made me feel beautiful, worshipped and so very special.” She turned and wrapped her arms around Helen’s waist.

Helen gently caressed her hair allowing her to digest the memories from their shared past. She gently raised her chin and smiled at her. “And now there’s someone else who makes you feel just like that again.”

Helena smiled and turned her head. “Maybe. I’m not sure if what we had is possible to restore. Perhaps it’s beyond repair.”

“I know you don’t really believe that darling,” she said softly. Helena didn’t answer. Her finger gently caressed the damaged key. She pushed it down and listened to the note. “High C,” she mumbled.

Helen smiled. “Play something Helena. Anything you like.” She returned to her favorite chair and sat down. She picked up the snifter and swirled the cognac around as Helena warmed up. Finally she started to play. Helen smiled. It was Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7