"The right word might be effective; but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause." Mark Twain
Helena's relationship with the Warehouse was like most of her relationships with people; complicated.
In spite of her protests that she didn't suffer fools; Helena had a soft spot for each of her friends in her heart. That location, however, was often covered over in armor thanks to the lessons life had imparted on the genius. She had grown up in a time when women… and emotions… were thought to be best kept under control.
Myka Bering was the one force of nature that sliced through any and all of Helena's walls. From the moment she laid eyes on the woman, Helena's entire being changed. The frost that ran through her veins in an attempt to keep the world at bay, melted immediately when they met. She set out to conquer Myka; only to find the devastating beauty in surrendering to that which you longed for your whole life.
Now, Helena stood in the hallway – caught between her earliest caretaker and the woman whom she cared for the most. Irene was right – she'd have to broach this subject carefully.
The problem was, Helena was at her worst when she was trying to be subtle and cautious. Those were typically tossed to the wind. The more the day wore on, the more the frustration grew with how best to do this. While Myka, Cate and Irene talked in the kitchen, Helena paced the long hallway, rehearsing her opening line.
And after several moments, one line was all she had and even that wasn't smooth just yet.
"Darling, a funny thing happened…no!"
"Darling Myka, Irene shared the funniest thing…no, no, no!"
"Myka, dear; when you said you didn't want the Warehouse interfering…no, DAMMIT!" she finally yelled, but no one heard her.
No one heard except Gloria Bell, her friend and neighbor who happened to be knocking at the front door when the Brit was shouting.
In the meantime, Helena was trying a different tact all together. One that even from fifty paces, the Nurse knew wouldn't work.
"Myka! There's nothing to be alarmed about!" Helena all but barked and overemphasized the very words that would alarm Myka.
"I don't know what you did…," the nurse began as she observed the penitent Brit, "… but your opening line needs a little work."
Helena jumped to see the short, roundish, woman standing in the doorway. The genius glared at her, then back at the door. "Is the no one on this island who possesses the common courtesy of knocking before entering?" she beseeched.
"I heard yelling. I thought perhaps Myka had come to her senses and… well, never mind," the nurse smiled and folded her hands in front of her after closing the door. "What did you do?"
Helena wanted to protest and prove the woman wrong; a hobby of hers that she enjoyed immensely, but she had no time. "I could address the error of your ways, madam, but I have no time."
"So, you did do something," Gloria concluded.
"It is not what I have done…," Helena said, deciding she could do with a bit more rehearsal. She pulled the woman into the library, poking her head back out to make sure Myka wasn't coming.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Gloria murmured, almost certain Helena was about to apologize.
"I am injured to the quick…," she started, but decided it would wait. "I have to break some news to Myka and she will not be happy. It has to do with the … Warehouse. I believe… there has been contact of some sort with Cate…," was all the Brit got out and Gloria clutched her chest. From what little she understood about what had transpired in the past, she knew Myka did not like it.
"Oh, Lord!" the nurse said, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I thought Myka had made it clear that … thing…," she said, waving her finger to the floor, "…was not to contact our Cate."
Helena loved the possessive pronoun. "Well, it might… be that… Cate is the one initiating the contact," her mother said worriedly.
"Ohh," Gloria said, realizing the girl was as quick as her parents. "Takes after you, I see. We're going to have to be very specific."
"Yes, well, she shared this with Irene who shared it with me and now I am charged with sharing it with… Myka," Helena said, and her voice cracked, much to Gloria surprise.
"Now, listen," the nurse said sympathetically and reached out to take Helena's hands; startled that they felt clammy. "… you and Myka will figure out the best course of action. Do you believe it means any harm…?"
"No, no!" Helena said defensively, which caught Gloria's attention. "No, she… doesn't. I'm certain of it."
Gloria frowned as she took in Helena's tone; one of affection it seemed. "How do you know?" the nurse had to ask.
"She's incapable of harm," Helena said.
"Even if threatened?" the astute friend inquired.
The question rattled Helena. "I have to tell Myka," was all she could say.
"What can I do?" Gloria asked.
"Irene is with Cate. Please make sure Cate is occupied," Helena asked. "And ask Myka to come… here…," she said, waving her hand around the space.
"I will," Gloria promised and squeezed Helena's hands one more time.
Gloria left an anxious Helena in the library as she paced and rehearsed. Now it was the nurse who rushed down the hallway, stopped short before entering and practiced her smooth entrance.
"Good afternoon, ladies," Gloria beamed as she walked in.
"Aunt Gloria!" Cate yelled and ran to the woman. "Come, we're making pound cake with Grandma, even though it weighs more than a pound!" she whispered as if Irene wasn't very good at understanding that point. She shrugged her shoulders. "It will be good anyway."
"Oh, my favorite dessert," the nurse exclaimed and let Cate pull her to the seat at the island. "Oh, Myka, Helena asked me to ask you to go to the library."
"I wondered where she was," Myka said.
"Tell Mummy it's pound cake," Cate instructed her mother. "But not really," she whispered again.
Myka smiled and shook her head and went to fetch her wife.
As soon as Myka entered the library, she knew something was wrong. Not only was Helena pacing and motioning with her hands; she had decided to put music on in the background. As soon as Myka heard it, she knew her wife was upset.
"Helena?" Myka said softly almost startling the Brit.
She listened closely to the notes filling the room. Helena only played Mozart's Kyrie when she was deeply concerned. It was a beautiful piece by the great composer that many scholars felt he never got to finish. That fact resonated deeply with the Genius and Myka understood it to mean, Helena was always afraid of never truly finishing her works.
Helena had not just uttered words of poetry when she told the new therapist that morning that Myka was the 'salve to her wounds.' Helena had spoken from the heart and the very sight of her wife, standing there with concern reflected in jade pools was enough to derail her entire train of thought. Myka watched as her wife's worried appearance melted into an expression of love.
"Are you…?" Myka was asking as she walked closer to her beloved.
"Do you know why I did not finish my rocket project ahead of SpaceX?" Helena asked, seguing so quickly, Myka felt as if she had just been dropped into one of her wife's long lectures.
"I wouldn't let you keep rocket fuel in the backyard?" Myka asked, only half kidding. She had indeed forbid it.
"Because I wanted to include your picture and send it into space. I knew I wanted to share you with the heavens and yet," Helena paused and pulled Myka to sit across from her on the couch, "… I knew I didn't want to share you at all."
Romantics have long declared their undying devotion to their lovers using scientific metaphors; only Helena G. Bering-Wells could use the terms in their exact meanings.
"Do you know what you do to me?" Myka asked, her body and soul afire as soon as Helena spoke. Most people could only hope to meet their literary sheroes. Myka felt the privilege of basking in the moonlight in the spoken words of hers.
"Someday, Myka, the world will know our love story and it will be a blessing and curse rolled into one," Helena said, taking Myka's hands and kissing them.
"Mozart?" Myka said because complete sentences were getting difficult to utter.
Helena looked up into those captivating green eyes that held her in their gaze. She had indeed selected it without thinking. But rather than confirm that she always played the song when thinking about all the things she left unfinished, Helena asked Myka: "Darling, do you trust me?"
"Without reservation," Myka smiled back.
Lost in the reverie of their unified adoration, as often was the case, Helena simply stated what she had tried to dress up and disguise before.
"Cate is speaking to the Warehouse."
The view Helena had went from staring at her wife, to staring up at her wife. Myka jumped up so quickly that she knocked Helena off the couch as she rushed to the door. Even she was surprised when she looked back and her wife was practically prostrate.
"Come on!" Myka barked, because she had practically morphed into wearing a suit of armor.
"Darling," Helena said, first crawling on all fours, then pulling herself up on the couch. "Could we… talk… just for a minute?"
Myka's hand was on the doorknob as she looked back, but didn't release it. Helena could hear her breathing across the space between them.
"Just a minute… before we do anything?" Helena implored.
Myka finally gave in and released the door before returning to the couch. Now, Helena really wished she had that opening line.
"I… I…," Helena tried, desperately trying to find the right words to say she trusted the very entity her wife scorned.
And she would have found the right words, if their moment wasn't shattered by the sound of Cate's high shrill scream coming down the hallway. Now, both women flew to the doorway to open the door.
The child's expression – wild-eyed and pale – was nothing short of terror.
"Mommy! Mummy! GRANDMA FELL! GRANDMA FELL!" she screamed, her whole body shaking.
A/N: I do appreciate your presence here.