Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter 4 ~ You can't protect everyone. This isn't possible Posted on Tuesday, 20 July 1999
Whatever happened next was so quick that Jane did not fully register what she witnessed. She was about two feet from the door, with Eric practically dragging her to it, while she continued to struggle with him, when in the next instant she felt him release his iron grip from her before he fell to the ground. Charles was now on sitting Eric's back holding his arms behind him in a position that rendered Eric unable to move.
"Jane, are you hurt?" Charles looked her over as he pulled on Eric's arms tighter than he needed to.
She shook her head 'no' in his direction before her eyes locked with Eric's.
Seeing her fear and confusion, Charles knew he needed to get Jane out of the garage. "Go on into the house. Louisa is calling the police and this will all be over in a minute. Go on, Jane. I can handle it."
"Tell him what you told me." Eric cried. "Tell him that you don't love him; that is me you want."
"Liar!" Charles lifted Eric partially off the concrete floor and shoved him back hard against it. "Leave her the hell alone!"
"Jane, look at me." She lifted her eyes from Eric to her husband. "He's not going to get away. You can go inside to Louisa now. I'll follow you as soon as the police have him."
"Are you sure?" She asked hoarsely while Eric began to struggle to free himself.
"I love you." Eric choked out as the pain in his shoulders became almost intolerable, even in his drunken condition. "Don't forget your promise!"
The promise, for which Jane had no intention of keeping when she made it, was that she would drop the lawsuit and give Eric an opportunity to explain himself and his actions. The latter part was totally out of the question. After spending an eternity with him in the garage as she bore witness to his wrath, Jane was without doubt that he would find a way to break her to his will if given the chance.
But, dropping the lawsuit was now an option.
If she didn't do as he asked, then the threats he made when she refused to leave with him would surely come to pass. Eric was bordering on insane, if he had not crossed over already. For the protection of Charles and herself, she would have to follow through on his instructions. The money Eric had stolen from her was no longer worth it and the price of justice too high. Let someone else take him on, someone with less to lose. Eric had given her a taste of what he was capable of, and Jane had not the inner or outer resources to fight him with.
Jane looked back down at the man who for eight years she had shared her life with. Physically she recognized him, but she did not know who he was. When they had first married, he was a totally different person, but hidden deep within him must have always been this imbalance, that as the years passed took over his personality and turned him into the unstable man he now was. How he hid it for so long could have been deemed a mystery to her had she not turned a blind eye to his actions for so long.
She knew what she had to do.
Jane would call forth the Peacemaker to fix everything that was wrong. She would have Jimmy drop the suit and take her share of the blame for all that had happened by spreading the word among her friends in Champaign that she was wrong. This was the only way she would be able to retain the life she had. Jane would never go back to Eric, but if she could pacify him well enough to get him to leave Charles alone, she would do almost anything else.
"I will not." She told him, answering both of his requests with a single sentence. She would not go home with him. She would not forget her promise to drop all legal action against him. Believing she was only addressing his demand to be let off the hook, Eric gave her a twisted grin and stopped struggling. He had won half of what he wanted and now believed that someday he would win her, too.
The Jane he remembered was back!
"Jane!" Charles raised his voice. He realized a pact was being made right before his eyes. "Go in the house!"
If she had not been standing so close and able to see everything, Charles would have beaten Eric's head on the floor until he was no longer able to talk, let alone think. The rage he had been containing since he received word that Eric was following Jane was bubbling to the surface, and right or wrong, he wanted the worthless scum he was sitting on to suffer for what he had done. Never in his life had Charles hit another person out of anger, but by God he could not think of a more deserving situation than this one. He wanted to hurt him, hell, he wanted to do more than that, and if he could get Jane to leave…
Sirens in the distance caused Jane to turn her head away from both men; and the wide red mark about the size of a palm on her cheek sent hot blood rushing through Charles. When she turned around, Jane knew what he was looking at and involuntarily lifted her hand to the bruised skin. At the same moment Louisa appeared in the doorway and quickly took in what was before her.
"Get her out of here!" Charles ordered his sister.
Louisa placed her arm in Jane's and confidently began to talk to her as she lead her away from the scene. The police would be in the affluent neighborhood any time now.
Charles and two police officers entered the house through the back door. Louisa met them a few steps in and quietly informed Charles that Jane was upstairs in Lillian's former bathroom changing her shirt. He excused himself to go get his wife with a sinking feeling that Jane was not going to be cooperative. Before starting up the stairs, he went into the kitchen to wash off his hands. When the officers had questioned him about the beaten condition of Eric, he calmly explained that Eric was trying to get away from him to run after his wife. The officer simply nodded his head and accepted what he knew to be a possible lie at face value. Dr. Bingley had done what he would have if in the same place, and he would safeguard the man in what he considered to be a just and fair act.
The door to Lillian's room was unlocked, but the one to the bathroom wasn't. Charles knocked lightly and asked Jane to let him in. He just looked at her for a moment taking note of the changes in her since she came into the house. She had put on a clean long-sleeved shirt and a fresh coat of makeup. The red mark he had observed in the garage was no longer easily visible to the naked eye. His suspicions were founded; Eric had done something to Jane that made her want to hide the damage he had inflicted on her. Fighting the reemergence of his need to go back out to the squad car and finish what he had started on Eric, Charles swallowed his selfish urge for reparation and focused his attention on getting through to Jane without frightening her anymore than she was. He could not allow her to stay this way for long.
Without saying a word he put his arms around her and held her against his chest. Charles had to admit to himself that he had never been as anxiety-ridden as he was today, and right now he was doing everything in his power not to show it. This was not for satisfaction of ego to appear manly, but because Jane was going to need someone impenetrable to lean on.
"How are you? Are you all right?"
"Yes, just a little shaky. Is he gone?" Please, let him be gone.
"No, they have him detained in a squad car. We need to go downstairs and talk to the officers. They want an account of what happened so they can charge him."
Jane stiffened against him. No arrest. She knew this was going to be the next step, but there had to be a way for her to stop it or at least not let it go through to the end. Her mind began to race as she thought about her options. Jane prayed that Charles would understand, and maybe someday, when she was certain that Eric would never bother them again, she would explain it to him. Keeping confidences from her husband was something Jane had never done before.
The trembling returned as she mulled over too many questions in need of answers at once. What would Charles's reaction be when she informed him of her plan to drop the lawsuit? How she was going to persuade the officers in her home that Eric wasn't threatening her but only there to talk? And how she was going to live with the division that would surely happen between her and Charles once she did everything she had to do?
They had always been honest and open with each other, so trusting and close. What other alternative did she have? She brought this problem to their doorstep and she would have to be the one to dispose of it. It went beyond the preservation of his person and spread to his reputation and standing in the community. Having his good name drug through the mud because it was now connected to hers and the mess she was in was unacceptable. Out of love Jane would make a deal with the Devil to shield Charles, in fact she already had.
"I…I am going to use the restroom. Why don't I meet you downstairs?" Jane needed to be brave; she needed to maintain appearances.
"Before I leave will you tell me what happened in the garage?" Charles pulled back from her and softly rubbed her shoulders while examining her cheek without her noticing. When he looked closely he was able to see the faint discoloration in the spot he noticed before. Putting on the best performance of his life, Charles pretended not to notice. He would wait for Jane to tell him about it.
"Nothing really. He just wanted to talk about the lawsuit."
The Victim protecting the Predator, he thought.
"Jane, did he threaten you while you were out there? It's okay for you to tell me."
"No, he only asked me questions about what I had planned. He wanted us to reach a settlement and offered to…there really wasn't time to say much before you came in."
"What was the promise he said you made?" Charles knew she was lying, but he kept his voice low and steady so he would not intimidate her. Reaching down for her hands, he paused for a brief moment.
"Where's your wedding ring?"
Jane panicked and it was mirrored in the quickness of breath she adopted as soon as he noticed her ring missing. There was no way she was going to tell him that Eric had taken it from her finger and threw it across the garage after he decided that she was going to leave her husband 'now'.
"It must have fallen off in the garage. I'll find it. Please, I really need to use the restroom. I'll be down, just go." Jane pushed him out the door and he allowed her to. This was already not going as she had wanted it to, and she had no idea how she was going to be able to fool the police, if she was having trouble just answering her husband's questions. Charles was too observant and he knew her too well. She needed to get him out of the bathroom before she broke down, because this was something Jane was not going to allow to happen.
Officer McMillian and Charles were talking quietly on the couch as they waited for Jane to come downstairs with Louisa. Charles had never been as grateful for his sister as he was today; she had been an enormous help to both him and Jane.
"You were right about the alcohol level." Officer McMillian admitted. "We goaded Homman until he agreed to take a breathalyzer and his level was way over the legal limit. The man is plastered."
"I thought so."
"Right now we're looking at his breaking the restraining order, assault, and breaking and entering. I can't guarantee that he won't be out on bail soon, because he probably will, but we can detain him at least for a while so you can get the security in place. We really need your wife to tell us everything so we can build a solid case."
"We'll have to see how she is when she comes down. She's scared."
"Even if she doesn't admit to physical harm, if she tells me that he verbally threatened her, we can still use the assault charge."
Both men looked up as Jane entered the room.
"Jane, this is Officer McMillian. He is here to take a statement."
"Hello." She answered unemotionally as she reached out and shook his hand before sitting down next to Charles. Jane then proceeded to tell lie after lie while appearing collected and unreadable.
Did he threaten your safety or the safety of someone you know?
No.
Did he touch you in any manner that would constitute a violent action?
No.
Did he hold you against your will and not allow you to leave the garage?
No.
Did he purposely try to frighten or surprise you?
No.
Did he try to get you to make an agreement with him in exchange for anything?
No.
Did he say he would harm you or anyone you know if you did not cooperate with him?
No.
Are you protecting him right now by answering these questions untruthfully?
No.
Did you invite him into the garage?
Jane paused before answering this question.
Yes.
Charles, whose frustration level was through the roof at this time exchanged glances with the officer. Other than Eric violating the restraining order, they had nothing. Not even trespassing. With Eric's clean record, and Jane's false testimony, he'd be a free man in a few short hours.
"Jane," Charles turned and looked her straight in the eye. He didn't want to do this, but he had the opinion that if they didn't do everything in their power to get Eric safely behind bars, he would be back for her. Eric had said some nonsense in the garage after she had left that led him to the conclusion.
"Will you roll up the sleeves of your shirt and take off your makeup?"
"What?" She couldn't believe Charles had asked her to do that in front of the officer. And if she did, the truth would be out in the open. "Are you calling me a liar?"
Charles didn't answer, but continued to stare her down. He wasn't going to let her let Eric get away with what he had done, even if Jane was willing to. The man was too dangerous.
"No, I will not!" Jane faced the officer as she stood. "Do you need anything else?"
"I think we covered everything. If I need anything else, I'll give you a call." He watched her walk away while he was in mid-sentence.
"How long can you hold Homman?" Charles asked without removing his eyes from Jane as she climbed the stairs. He didn't have a plan at the moment, but he needed a time frame to work within.
"With what I have? Two hours to process at best."
"If you add the trespassing charge?"
"A little longer, but she says she invited him in. It won't stick."
"But you could push it through for now and buy a little more time?"
"Yes. I could start to process a trespassing charge to stall for a while, but I can't file it."
"I'll talk to her and see if I can get her to tell me what really happened."
The officer handed him his card and they both walked out together. Even though Charles really could not spare the time, after the police left, he went into the garage to search for Jane's ring. This was something that he had to do, and the decision was motivated by the need to right at least one wrong that had happened today.
Inside of him a turbulent wash of emotion that he had been fighting to contain since Lydia's phone call. Releasing some of the aggression on Eric only momentarily eased the pressure. Spying a red spot on the floor where Eric had been laying, his stomach churned a little and he knew he had to remove it before Jane came back into the garage.
Charles took a rag from the tool bench and threw it on the ground to cover the blood. With his shoe, he pushed it around to clean the area, not touching the rag until he was finished.
He had hit a man. He had hit a man out of anger. Studying the hand he had used, he knew that if given the chance--he would do it all over again. And this was very out of character for Charles Bingley.
He stopped himself from thinking about Eric and started looking for the ring. While searching the floor, he paused to put her paperwork back into her briefcase and wondered about the explanation Jane would have for it being scattered on the ground. Whatever it was, he knew for certain that it would not be Eric's fault. In fact, according to her testimony, nothing was Eric's fault. She made it sound like they were just having an almost friendly conversation in the garage and nothing more. What Charles needed to know was why she was doing it?
Had Jane lost faith in him to a point where she could not tell him what happened to her? Is this why she covered for Eric when the officer was questioning her? Did she somehow blame him for not being able to keep her safe? He had never known her to withhold anything from him before. Why would she start now?
Obviously Jane had come home while he was upstairs writing down instructions from the State Police. Charles had heard the other phone line ring twice before it stopped. Louisa must have moved away from the front door to answer it. Damn it!
He blew it and he blew it big. There was no excuse for Jane having to spend more than one second alone with Homman…except incompetence on his part! If he would have been waiting in the driveway instead of on the phone, she wouldn't have gone through any of …
Allowing his mind to continue in this direction of thought, Charles got down on his hands and knees to continue the search for the ring. It was several minutes before he was able to locate it.
Reentering the house, Charles said good-bye to Louisa and thanked her for all she had done before heading up to their bedroom. Time was ticking away.
After making a stop at a closet in a spare room, Charles opened the door to their bedroom. He found Jane sitting in a chair looking out the window.
"I brought you this." Charles said just above a whisper as he put a long sleeved nightgown of hers on the bed. "If you're determined to continue this charade, then you're going to need to hide the marks from me at night, too."
Jane had nothing to say in reply and remained as impassive as when he found her. But have no doubt that his words tore her apart inside. He all but came right out and told her that he knew she was lying to him, but he didn't sound angry. Looking up briefly, she was unable to distinguish his expression. Hurt? Concerned? Jane couldn't tell because she had never seen him look like that before.
God, what am I doing to him?
"Your ring was under my car." He opened her hand and put the ring that had not been removed since the wedding ceremony back on her finger. Jane had never in her life felt as unworthy as she did at that moment.
"I'm going to ruin your life." This was Jane's darkest suspicion and she was not exaggerating when she admitted it. She truly believed that the filth associated with her would be the downfall of Charles.
In a chair sat a woman who had just gone through an experience that no person should ever have to face, yet those were the words out of her mouth. She had found blame and guilt where there was none, and shouldered it without a second thought. Jane knew Eric had done wrong by showing up at her house, but if she had divorced him earlier, or waited to marry Charles, or done something different, today might not have happened.
"How can you say that?" Charles knelt beside her. "How can you even think that?"
She didn't respond.
"Do you think I can only love you when everything is perfect?" He tried to get her to turn her face at him, but she wouldn't. "Jane, please say this isn't what you really think of me."
"You know I don't."
"Tell me that you believe I'll be here for you through the bad times, too."
"I totally trust you."
"Then why?"
She wouldn't answer.
Charles stood up. He needed to go clear his head and regain his focus. After reaching the door, he turned to look at her once more.
"If you trust me so much, why would you lie to me?" The division between them was set.
As she watched Charles close the door behind him the first inkling that she had made the wrong choice entered Jane's mind, but it passed quickly.
William and Elizabeth sat at the exit for over an hour. Elizabeth had taken off her seat belt early on and moved over to his side of the car where he wrapped his arm over her shoulder.
Checking her watch, she realized it was after 7 p.m. When they had first arrived, they had checked in with Charles every five minutes, but this was making him nervous so Elizabeth gave him her phone number for him to call when he had information. He never called back.
"Surely Charles has heard from Jane by now." She said as she took her cell phone out of the glove box. "I'm going to find out what is going on."
Elizabeth dialed and waited for someone to answer. It took six rings before Charles answered although he was sitting next to the phone.
"Yes?" he asked flatly. Not four minutes earlier Chris had called, and before that the Bennets. For a man trying to sort out what was happening under his own roof, Charles was having to deal with a barrage of concerned people wanting intimate details he was not prepared to give.
"Is she there?"
"Jane is home. Eric was following her."
"What happened?"
Charles briefly explained the situation to her trying not to give away too much, but the longer he talked to Elizabeth, the easier it was for him to open up. Charles admitted to her what he believed really took place with the understanding that she would not repeat it to anyone, including Jane. He didn't want his words to be used against his wife, but right now he desperately needed outside advice.
"Put Jane on the phone."
"She may not talk to you, so don't take it personally. She's been through a traumatic experience and has shut down." Saying this out loud made Charles feel ashamed about what he said to Jane in their bedroom. "I shouldn't have laid the guilt on her. She didn't need anymore pressure, and I poured it on."
"Like hell you shouldn't have! Eric's going to walk if she doesn't get down there and put a stop to it." Elizabeth tilted her head and looked at William with a troubled expression. She knew of one way to get Jane to do what needed to be done, but there would be a lot of pain associated with it on all sides if she related what transpired back in 1992.
Elizabeth took hold of William's hand and made a choice. She only prayed that it wouldn't take the entire story to convince Jane to take action.
"Charles, please, give Jane the phone."
"Be easy on her, will you? Elizabeth, I'm serious. No raising of voices or arguing, it could do more damage than good."
"I promise."
While Charles was taking the phone into Jane, Elizabeth covered the mouthpiece and looked up at William. She wasn't quite sure how to phrase the request she was going to make of him, or how he would receive it.
"Do you want me to go stand outside while you talk to your sister?" There was no undertone of resentment or jealousy in his voice, only a thoughtful cast upon his face. He also just read her mind.
"Reason five hundred and one as to why I'm so glad to be marrying you. I'd rather tell you this in my own way, but not right now. Do you understand?"
"I do." Honestly, he did.
Posted on Tuesday, 20 July 1999
10 Minutes Later.
Jane stopped right inside the doorway of his study, not waiting for acknowledgment before she began to speak.
"Eric made several different threats today. The worst came right before you found us and they concerned you. He told me that for every ounce of suffering he did, he would make sure you endured twice as much…if not more. He then proceeded to remind me that accidents happen everyday, and how his life and my own would be so much easier if you were out of the picture. I already knew that he wanted the lawsuit dropped, and had agreed to do so. But, Eric added another stipulation: He wanted me to leave with him and return home. I wouldn't. Then we...struggled." In a bland businesslike manner, Jane gave Charles the facts without looking up from the floor.
"Call the officer, and I'll tell him the truth," she continued on. "But, if anything happens to you because of what I am about to do, I'll never forgive myself."
Jane turned around and left the room without waiting for a response, leaving her husband speechlessly staring behind her. He now understood that every lie she had told was to protect him.
Charles picked up the phone and let Officer McMillian know that they would be over to give another statement. He was having a difficult time concentrating on what was being said by the man, but he did hear McMillian tell him that they had Eric under control, and if Charles and Jane needed a little time before coming down to the station, it would not pose a problem.
The officer must have been an intuitive man, because time was exactly what they needed. Charles found her in the bedroom, but this time she had changed into a slacks and lightweight blazer with a tank top under it. Jane bravely tried to give him some sort of reassuring greeting, but it didn't come out right so she went back to her unreadable mask. It was easier for her to keep her courage up by wearing it.
Awkward silence hung between them for the first time since they had been married. The Jane who had allowed him to read all of her dream journals and the Charles who had told her of his long term ambitions in life did not know what to say.
Charles took off his shoes and removed a clean shirt from the closet. "I have the security people coming tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. to update our system and counsel us on what we should do." He placed the hanger on the doorknob and sat on the bed. "Will you sit next to me?"
Jane shyly nodded her head and took a place close to him. They sat side by side, both looking at something other than each other.
"I'm going to take a few days off from work. That is if you want me to. Marilyn already knows." Charles swallowed and thought about how unimportant the facts he was giving her seemed at the time. They were not what were in the forefront of his mind.
"I think I'll stay home for a few days, too." She said so quietly that he could barely hear her.
It was the way she sounded, so small and timid, so un-Janelike that finally made him turn and face her with the overdue apology he had waiting on the tip of his tongue.
"I'm so sorry you had to face him alone, Jane. I would have given anything to have been able to keep you from going through what you did today." Charles looked down to his hands briefly. There was so much truth in his statement. "I should have told you this an hour ago. I'm sorry."
"Please, don't offer an apology, because I can't accept it. My God, Charles, you did nothing wrong. I did…and Eric."
"No, it isn't your fault that he did what he did. You couldn't have known Eric would be capable of this."
"But you did." She pointed out.
"What?"
"Remember back in January when I put an order against Eric? We were in your study, and you said he was capable of doing anything because his back was against the wall. I accused you of overreacting."
"I was overreacting at the time. No, I don't believe there was any way to know he was going to do what he did today. He gave every impression that he was cooperating with the restraining order and had no intention to come looking for you. You couldn't have known, Jane."
"I want you to understand that I thought I was doing the only thing I could to… I won't lie to you again."
"I don't think either of us knew how far we would be willing to go to safeguard each other until today. I shouldn't have said to you what I did in front of the officer, but I wanted Eric locked away so badly that I tried to force a confession out of you to achieve my goal. If it makes any difference, like you, I did it for your protection. But that doesn't make it right."
He offered an unsteady hand in her direction as a sign that all could be forgiven between them, but changed his mind and opened up his arms to take her in. Jane clung as tightly to him as she could, laying the beginning groundwork to bridge the impasse brought on by the day's events.
His hold was both dear and apprehensive and Jane knew why Charles was hesitant about touching her.
"They aren't that bad, and there are only a few." She said in allusion to the bruises on her arms.
Cognizant of what she was talking about without needing her to say the words, Charles simply nodded.
In trust she pulled back and began to lower her jacket, but his watching her made her self-conscious. Stopping midway, Jane lifted his chin up with her hand so that his eyes were level with hers before she let the jacket fall off.
He waited and watched her prepare herself mentally for his reaction, but wouldn't lower his gaze until she gave permission.
"This is hard." Jane admitted.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of." Charles answered her softly.
"I know you're probably right, but that doesn't make it any easier." She forced a weak smile indicating she was ready. "Okay."
Jane chose to shut her eyes while he inspected her arms. Much to her relief, Charles kept his cool and did not allow what was going on inside of him to surface. This was how he was trained to react as a psychiatrist. Stay composed, appear strong, and hold back any emotions that may upset the victim.
"Let's put some ice on this one," he commented as he lightly touched an area by her right elbow. "The others don't look very deep."
"Can it wait until we come back home?"
"Yes." He said before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"My wrist is a little sore."
The evidence of Eric's grip on her was left behind as red imprints around her small wrist. Since Jane still had her eyes closed, he was able to look away for a moment without being caught. Charles could hardly believe the damage that man had done in such a short period of time, and shuddered when he thought about what could have happened if Eric had had more. He gently moved her wrist to see if there was a sprain and there wasn't.
"How about your cheek?"
"It's fine. Charles, do you think the police will have to take pictures of … you know? Me?"
"Yes. I believe so." He watched her expression cloud over showing that she was very afraid. "Would you like me to stay with you in the room while we're at the station?"
"Would you? I don't want to be left alone." Tears fell onto her face. "May I ask a favor?"
"Of course."
"Could you make me feel safe until I can do it on my own? I don't feel like I have any 'fight' in me."
"I can do that." He said in a relieved breath. She had no idea how much he needed to be able to do something for her. "Oh sweetie, I can do that for you."
"I know." Jane laid her head against his chest and for a moment forgot to be brave. "Charles, I was so scared…"
Twenty-five minutes later after Jane had told him everything that had occurred in the garage, they were out of the door and on their way to the police station. Eric Homman was charged with assault and battery, attempted kidnapping, violation of a restraining order, breaking and entering, and under a law implemented not long ago--stalking.
United States of America
Wednesday
October 23 1929
Two immigrants passed through Ellis Island.
Chapter 5 Posted on Saturday, 24 July 1999
Tuesday
June 27 1999
Oak park Illinois
Despite what you have heard from advertisers, peace of mind cannot be bought.
The mood at home during the next two weeks was pensive at best. As some might have expected, Jane found solace in her own cocoon, and with each passing day the area surrounding her, where no one was allowed to enter, grew. Cutting herself from the feelings and emotions associated with close contact with others gave her the breathing room she needed at the time.
Without there being an official discussion about it, the family decided to keep what had happened to Jane as private as possible, and no references to the incident was ever made to it in the workplace. Her employees couldn't miss the changes; Jane was withdrawn and rarely said a string of sentences together anymore. The once supportive manager of marketing and public relations now kept her office door closed during the day and with the exception of her sisters and Steven, people were not invited in. Without any facts to back-up their assumptions, they could only speculate that her marriage was in trouble. Nothing else made sense.
But her marriage was not in trouble, although it had changed in many ways. The once equal partnership was now lopsided as Charles fought to keep the connection between him and his wife from weakening to a point where he, too, would be an outsider. There were no prearranged actions coming from Jane, she was only doing what she had done so many times in the past; protecting herself. Talking with Charles about what had happened left her too exposed, so she stopped doing it.
The day after the garage encounter Jane told the full story for the last time to the District Attorney that would be handling her case. She was assigned a number from his department, informed that they would keep her abreast of any changes in her case, and set free to fend for herself. Needless to say, this callousness had an effect on her and she began to believe that with few exceptions, there was no where for her to turn for help.
The bill for the upgrade on their home security was enormous. Charles went overboard and with the exception of hiring actual bodyguards to protect his wife, he had every option he could add to their existing system. This was one way in which he dealt with the liability he still harbored about her having to go through what she did. In a world where few people willingly take their share of the blame for their own actions, he and Jane were on the opposite end of the spectrum. They shouldered more responsibility than merited. This was the way they were and neither was going to change anytime in the near future. The more the drama of her description detailing the scene with Eric repeatedly played out in his mind, the harder Charles tried to make amends.
Not to paint a distorted picture of his motivation, it should be mentioned that guilt was not the only driving force behind his zealousness. This man absolutely loved his wife with everything inside of him, and to know she was hurting in a way he could not directly reach, excelled his desire to see that she had a haven available to her in which she felt safe and comfortable.
There were certain individuals who did not understand the extent of the damage done to Jane, and one of them was her mother. The weekend after everything had taken place Rose Bennet paid an unexpected visit to her oldest daughter after attending church services. Her 'popping in' was becoming a regular habit, and Charles had escaped away from the woman's annoying voice to the kitchen to make some coffee. The conversation started out rather typical until Rose began to voice her opinions about why 'this' had happened to Jane. Spouting off about how the 'pretty girls' ran more of a risk of being coveted by men, and therefore they faced more of a chance of being attacked; her theories were not only insulting but also not based on fact. Charles had missed most of the conversation, but was coming through the kitchen doorway when he heard Rose proclaim:
"You'll have to watch yourself more than your sisters because you're far more attractive. The world is full of men like Eric and they are going to take one look at you and want what they can not…"
Rose never did finish her sentence as Charles took hold of her arm and escorted her to the door, informing her to not come again without calling first. He only spent the total of one minute berating her for saying such things to her daughter before he stopped himself. Charles could tell by the look in Rose's eyes that she was not absorbing what he was saying and he wondered how Jane and her sisters could have turned out they way they did considering they were raised by such an insensitive woman.
The utter ignorance of that woman, with her idiotic ideas and 'talk before you think' attitude incensed him as he worked to repair the damage done by a single sentence. The world is full of men like Eric….
Her mother wasn't the only one trying to reenact their part of a parent; Dale Bennet had also reprised his role. Though less detrimental than his wife, his irritating phone calls were taking their toll on Jane. He would ask question after question, expecting answers she often did not have to give and then confuse her by giving a constant stream of advice. "You should do this…", "You should call…", "You should go down to…".
Charles had seriously considered packing a few bags and getting Jane out of the area for a while, but presently he was dealing with two separate cases at work that he could not leave in good conscience. They were seriously troubled teens and to bring in another psychiatrist at this point was not the best option. He had to stay in Chicago, there was no way around it, so he continued to do all he could at home as he observed Jane slip further into her old patterns.
Jane was at work on the day she received the phone call that Eric Homman had been freed on bail.
His therapist drove up from Champaign to give testimony stating that it was imperative for Eric to continue with his treatment under controlled circumstances, and after a lengthy debate between Eric's new lawyer and the District Attorney, he was released under supervision. Forced to wear a non-removable monitoring device around his ankle, he was ordered to attend sessions with his therapist three times a week and submit to mandatory blood tests every Monday to insure the medication he needed was in his system.
This was the first account Jane had ever heard about the nature of Eric's psychological problems. She had been under the impression that he was seeking help from a therapist for less substantial reasons, not because he was at a point where it was considered necessary.
Charles had attended Eric's hearing and upon returning home later that day, he explained in layman's terms about Eric's manic episodes and how the Lithium he was taking was to aid in keeping him from going over the edge. What had gone wrong was that Eric stopped taking his medicine and became seriously unbalanced, a circumstance Charles had experienced with his own patients before.
When he finished with his report, Jane clearly understood how sick Eric was but she still had unanswered questions.
Although Jimmy was not handling this case, the day after the release Jane placed a call to her to find out about the degree of safety the monitoring device Eric was forced to wear offered. She was given an honest answer. They were not foolproof and by no means should she consider them an alternative to using good judgment concerning her safety. This is what Jane wanted to know (the truth), even though she had wished for a different answer.
Jane had asked the same question to DA handling her case the day before. He was not exactly indifferent to her inquiries, but perhaps he had said the same words too often in the past, because his reply lacked empathy. Jane could not complain about the technical performance of the man. He had thrown every charge he could at Eric, but it was disheartening to know that he had done it so they would have more to plea bargain with later in the process and not necessarily because Eric had earned each and every count against him.
If any good came out of all that had happened during the month of June, and quite frankly the expenditure was too steep for it to be considered 'good', it was that Lydia's eyes had been opened to a little of what surrounded her. Not one to consider the hardships of others, she slowly began to realize how easily a person could be changed from the hand of another.
In was in the blink of an eye that her older sister had gone from a contented, happy woman to the sedate, withdrawn person she was now. As this thought started to snowball and take on a life of its own, Lydia began to view some of her own actions in the past and the how they had affected others. The times when she would show up to work in short skirts and low-cut tops just to get a rise out of Jane and hopefully be sent home to change. Looking back, she realized that Jane was the only family member willing to give her a chance to prove herself at a job. She had tried to take her under her wing for her own betterment and this was how Lydia had repaid her. But it wasn't only Jane whom she had treated without respect. Other evidence was in the way she repeatedly left her belongings in the middle of the floor not thinking about the fact that her blind father might trip over them. And what of the crude remarks she had made to strangers and people she knew without thinking about the consequences first? Chris, who had proven himself to be a valued friend, was victim to her causal thoughtlessness the first time she had met him. And there was Katt, quiet, studious Katt who had to bear the brunt of her constant teasing about being plain and dull. Had her words hurt her sister?
It wasn't an overnight transformation that Lydia was about to embark on, but one that had to be nurtured. It was all too easy to backslide and while under the influence of the people she called 'friends', she would forget all she had thought about. Then one day it happened. Lydia was swimming at the public pool when she heard four of the guys she regularly hung out with talking about her. This was the day she realized that she had become the 'loser' Jane had told her she would not allow her to be. And it all clicked into place.
Lydia desperately needed her sister to talk to that night about what the boys had said, but Jane had problems of her own now and Lydia had waited too late to see the significance of having someone who cared about you to lean on. She left the pool, went home and did something she had not done in years…she said a selfless prayer for her sister.
The chances were good that Lydia was going to turn out fine after all.
Brooklyn, New York
August 1930
Life after Black Thursday.
Vladimir found himself faced with the fact that the American people didn't need an architect to built their shanties, especially if said architect was an immigrant who had entered the country one day before the stock market crash of 1929. Viewed as the enemy, as any other man would be who might take what little employment was available from those blessed enough to born in this country, he soon realized that America had forgotten her roots. He was living in the land built from the sweat of its immigrant brow, yet his people were at times treated worse than the prison population.
They were always the last considered, often cast aside when the foreman hiring for a day's labor heard their foreign accents. These were dark days that had only just begun.
Surely God was watching out for them because whereas Vladimir was rejected, Zoya found herself welcome. She had no remarkable skill except one: Zoya could cook. If a dish had originated in Eastern Europe and the necessary ingredients were at hand, she could make it. More importantly, if the ingredients were scarce or too expensive for purchase, she knew exactly what to do to mask the deficiency and often times these impromptu recipes came out better than their original.
If she had nothing else after five years of marriage to Dimitri Vabka, she would have to admit that he left her a competent cook. It had been very important to Dimitri that she have the skills of a woman much older than she was to ward off any possible talk of their age difference. The youngest daughter of a laborer, she was not what he would call a beauty, but beauties could be bought on the streets of Moscow without commitment. Physical appearance held little value to him. No, there was something else about Zoya that made him determined to end his forty-four year stint as a bachelor and after two short meetings with her father, he was granted the hand of the twenty-year 'young' woman very much without her permission.
And when he told her to learn to cook, cook she did…all the way to America and into a German restaurant that offered her room and board and a small income in exchange for her services.
The oppressive heat from the day made their room above the kitchen near intolerable to achieve restful sleep. Tossing and turning, they both abandoned the pretense of sleep near 3am, after Vladimir had a rather frightful nightmare, waking Zoya in the process.
"Let me cool you." She said as she went over to a basin to wet a washrag to wipe his forehead with.
"Zoya, what have I done to us?" He bore so much shame at not being able to support her that at times it was difficult for Vladimir to look her in the eye.
"To what are you referring?" She rung out the rag and returned to the side of the bed he was laying on.
"My misjudgment in bringing you here." Shaking his head, he continued. "You should not have to live this way. Brooklyn is not good enough for you."
"Darling Vlad, I will hear no more talk along this vein. I would rather be here with you than anywhere else." Handing him the lukewarm washrag, she smiled. "Do not despair, Love, all will be as it should. America is too rich in resources to stay this way for long and soon we will find that we have made the correct choice."
"As much as I desire it, I am unable to share your optimism." The regret he felt in his heart manifested on his face and in the dim light given off by the street lamp outside their window, she could not miss it.
Zoya hesitated for a moment as she contemplated giving him news she had been silent on since the afternoon. His initial reaction could very well be the same as hers, but would her relaying what she had learned cause more possible harm than good? After brief reflection, Zoya decided to share with him her information.
"I had a visitor in the kitchen, today."
"A visitor?" Alarmed that Dimitri had found a way to reach her from across the ocean, Vladimir sat up in bed.
"No, no! Oh, I am not doing a fair job of tell you this. Please," she placed her hand against his chest, "let me finish before you make remarks."
"Shortly after the luncheon hour yesterday, Mrs. Kroger came into the kitchen to deliver me a compliment from a patron. It seemed as if a well-off American woman was quite pleased with the dishes I had prepared and asked for her comments to be passed on. I was flattered but thought nothing more of it as I began planning for the dinner hour. At 8pm when the rush began to slow down, a handwritten noted requesting a word with the chef," she grinned thinking that anyone would consider her a 'chef', "was delivered. I had already finished my chores and since you were not yet home, I went to the table seeking my attendance. It was the woman from earlier in the day and her husband, a Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Moore of Chicago. They were all politeness and not at all what I would have expected from their dress and adornments. I believe I also surprised them because during our conversation, Mrs. Moore told me that she was expecting a large German man to come through the galley doors, not a little Russian woman the age of her own daughter.
"We spoke for a generous half-hour and they made me an offer to consider. The cook presently working in their home in…Elm Park? No, that is not correct. Oak Park! Their cook in Oak Park in the American State of Illinois is to be leaving them soon due to advanced age, and they were looking for a replacement. I asked out of curiosity if their search had brought them all the way to Brooklyn, and they chuckled in response that no it had not. Mrs. Moore has relatives living here and during their customary yearly visit, they had come to their favorite restaurant in need of a good meal."
Zoya leaned over him and whispered the next part.
"Vladimir, they are dear, sweet people but judging by their abundant size, I do not believe they have missed many good meals. Shhh," she placed a finger against his lips, "that will be our little secret."
"Zoya!" he admonished with humor. "What did you tell these people? Chicago is quite a distance from…"
"Allow me to finish my story and all your questions will be answered. Nearing the end of our interview, I informed them that this would be something I would have to discuss with my husband and if they would be so kind as to write out their offer, I would bring it to you. They heartily agreed and are to return today between sittings downstairs."
"Why did you wait to give me this news?"
"For two reasons. The first is that there is more to the Moores that I have not yet confided. Vlad, they occupy a house in Oak Park designed by a contemporary I know you admire."
"Wright?" So long he had admired the great master whose influences had inspired him, but until now he had not made a connection between the architect and the town of Oak Park.
"Yes, Wright. They are the second generation to live in the Nathan B. Moore Home. And we would be given quarters there, too. Three rooms of our own in the basement as part of my compensation, along with a small allowance almost equal to what I am making here."
"The second reason?" His curiosity could barely be contained.
"If it did not come about, I did not want your hopes crushed. I have faith that they will return today, but until I was certain, I wanted to keep you from possible disappointment. You have tried so hard since we have been in America, and I know you are unhappy here. I could not add to your discontent if the offer did not come about."
Removing the hand still pressed against his chest, he kissed her fingers. It had been Vladimir who had been able to get them safely through Europe and eventually onto a steamer headed for North America, but Zoya had been their saving grace since once they landed. What little pride he had left from the experience she held intact for him, not letting him forget all he was and what he would someday be again. At one point several months prior, he had begun to speak of traveling to West Virginia to seek out work in the coal mines. There was much talk on the streets about the availability of such opportunity and many others in the same situation like his had been forced to take that step, which insured a life barely worth living due to the conditions of the work itself. A week of witnessing Zoya's crying and pleading convinced him to drop the subject and he settled back into his hopeless resignation without any prospect of steady employment. Vladimir Oleksei was very depressed.
"Zoya, you take such good care of me, I am not deserving. I have nothing to give you in return for all the suffering you have encountered while with me. All I have accomplished is to bring you down to a level of poverty I would not wish on anyone."
"Suffering? I have done no suffering because of you! Would I have been better in the arms of General Vabka?" The force of her speech shocked him. Zoya was angry. "No, I know not. You must not taint what we have with guilt."
"I am sorry. I only want to give you everything." He defended in a defeated whisper.
"I have everything." Softening, she removed the now hot washrag from his hand. "I have everything, Vladimir, except the one thing I desire most, and this you have to give."
"What do you want, Love?" Whatever it was she was about to request, he knew he would be willing to lie, cheat, or steal to get it for her.
"Your name."
Three hours before the train leaving New York City bound for Chicago Illinois was to depart, Vladimir Oleksei and Zoya Vabka were joined in wedlock during a civil ceremony.
Zoya's faith was well placed. They were about to enter the happiest years of their lives.
"What do you think?" Charles asked Jane after she had been silent for several minutes while looking over the death certificates they had finally received from the records office.
In actuality, Jane had not spent any time recently thinking of the couple who once occupied the basement. It no longer ranked as a priority to her.
"Well," she cleared her throat, "It says that Vladimir was born in Warsaw. We could write to whomever takes care of birth certificates there and see if they have any information on him. The woman was born in St. Petersburg and I would prefer not to have to deal with Russian bureaucracy unless necessary."
"What about your friend Joanna? Do you think she would help us?" Charles was excited at the prospect of furthering their search, but he could see that Jane was less than enthusiastic.
"That's a good idea. I'll have Mary scan them for me tomorrow at work and send them to Joanna. She understands how the system works in Poland."
Jane gave him a tight smile as she put the papers down on the desk in front of him.
"I'm going to change out of my work clothes and run on the treadmill for a while."
"Okay." Charles glanced at the clock on his desk as she walked out of the door. He'd check on her in a half-hour to make sure she had stopped. This was the amount of time Jane had worked herself down to since the day months ago when she came to him about her weight. Since that time she had slowly put back on five pounds and was looking healthier and more filled-out than she had in years.
He returned his attention to the death certificates unaware that in 1937 a clerical error in listing Vladimir's birthplace would eventually lead them to more information than they could have thought possible.
Chapter 6A ~ Demise. Or, The Kindness Of Others
Lake Champaign
Champaign, Illinois
Saturday
July 3rd 1999
9:48 am.
The subtitle depends on your perspective.
Kara McCormick was not an ignorant woman, but it would not be stretching the truth to say she was not wise. More often than not, her sense of adventure and entertainment lead her into situations dangerous to her person. To her benefit she had married a man, the Honorable Judge Walter F. McCormick, who had enough common sense and stability for the both of them.
But Walter was out of town.
Eric Homman represented the ultimate bad boy to Kara, and for the past three years they had had an on-and-off' fling going. When it first began, Kara admittedly accepted his advances out of some sort of jealously over his then-wife Jane.
Kara and Jane looked remarkably alike and the comment often heard when they were in the same room was how they could pass for sisters. After taking in a few drinks, if a person was to squint their eyes while looking at the two women, they would be hard to tell apart. But, Jane had the advantage of grace, height, superior intelligence, and several other attributes Kara did not like to dwell on.
So she slept with her husband and suddenly the score was even in her mind. Nothing gave Kara a greater thrill in the beginning of the affair like Eric making passes at her when his wife was nearby. After his divorce from Jane, she continued to see him behind Walter's back, because quite frankly, Walter was a bore.
On this particularly sunny Saturday morning they had a meeting set up. Eric had his boat out on Lake Champaign and was anchored in a small, private cove not far from a lake house the McCormick's owned. He and Kara often met at this location because it was secluded. She would swim out to meet him, have some mindless sex and then return home. Kara was smart enough to realize she did not want to leave her dear husband, but if she could have some fun on the side and nobody got hurt…why not?
Eric watched in anticipation while scratching the skin under the monitoring anklet the Judge in Oak Park forced him to wear to track his whereabouts after he made bond. He was not allowed to leave Champaign County for any reason other to appear in court, and if he stepped one foot outside of it, the state police would know, and he would be thrown in jail until his trial was over. No exceptions.
Taking a swig of scotch straight form the bottle, Eric squinted his eyes and watched Kara climb the boat ladder up to the deck. He had been drinking non-stop since his release, but it wasn't because he was worried about his future. His Jane had made him a promise, and her promises were good as gold. Eric believed she would make sure he was cleared of all charges, and the whole misunderstanding in Oak Park would soon disappear.
He was drinking because it was the only way he was able to deal with his excitement that she may soon be back with him. The details of what happened in her current husband's garage were a little fuzzy, but he did remember the sense of hope he had when he awoke in jail.
Jane would soon be home and he could hardly wait, but until that day, Kara was a fair second choice.
"Hi there." Kara greeted him before tying her hair back at the nape of her neck like Eric preferred.
"It's been a long time." He answered her while putting his bottle between his legs. "Did you miss me?"
"Are you kidding?" she grinned before she got a good look at him. "What happened to your face?"
Kara had heard some rumors floating around that Eric had been arrested in the Chicago area, but the stories ranged from a brawl at Wrigley Stadium to his getting caught with a married woman. Other than a select few who had to know, no one else was informed of the true nature of his arrest.
"Nothing I couldn't handle. You should've seen the other guy." He boasted without cause.
"I bet!" She was so glad he had called her last night to arrange this meeting. "What's that?" Pointing to the ankle bracelet, Kara leaned over to investigate.
"A temporary inconvenience, Dearheart." Eric took another long drink before putting the lid on his bottle and dropping it on the floor. He was good and drunk, calling Kara by the endearment he had assigned to Jane. "Come over here and sit on my lap."
Kara didn't need any more inducement to plop her tiny little frame on his. Not a couple to waste time on small talk, they both began to take from one another what they had come to get.
Eric had his bloodshot eyes closed tightly as they ravaged each other, happily lost in another world where Kara was someone else.
"I love you. I knew you would come back." He mumbled as they fell back on the boat seat. "Nothing will come between us again."
Kara was not amused by his declaration of love, but he was being so fervent that she ignored what he has said. Love was not part of their agreement. He would be excused this once.
"It's been forever, but you're mine again. Are you as happy as I am?"
"Yes." Kara answered.
"I've never stopped loving you, Jane. Never." In a twisted way, Eric was telling her the truth.
"JANE?" Kara sat up. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"What did I say?" Deluded, he truly believed Jane was in front of him. "Let's not argue. Come back."
"You called me Jane!" she hissed.
"And??"
"Oh, screw this! You're drunk, and I'm not in the mood anymore." Kara went back to the side of the boat with the ladder. She wasn't about to let him get away with calling her 'Jane.' That was just too much.
"No, wait! I can't let you go now. Explain to me what I did wrong." Eric stumbled over to her and held onto her arms, but the grip was weak and his hands slid down past her elbows.
"Who am I?"
The boat may have been rocking from the movement on the deck and he was feeling queasy, but as sure as he was standing there, he knew who she was.
"Jane! You're Jane." He once again reached out for her arm. "What did I say?"
Kara shoved him away from her and got ready to dive off the edge when she caught him out of the corner of her eye falling overboard.
"Good," she thought to herself, "that will wake him up."
Kara waited…and waited, and after two minutes she became concerned. After three minutes she began to panic, and when the five minute mark hit she dove off the boat and swam to the shore of the lake as fast as she could.
As stated earlier, Kara McCormick was not an ignorant woman, but it would not be stretching the truth to say she was not wise. On the floor of the boat she left behind a small gold bracelet with the inscription 'For my darling Kara. Love, Walter'. It had fallen off when Eric tried to hold onto her for balance right before he fell over, and Kara had not notice it missing in her confusion to get away.
The soothing properties of the water calmed Eric as he gradually descended. It did take him a while before he realized where he was, but when he did he did, he not struggle. Four feet below the surface of the lake and sinking, Eric waited patiently. His Jane would be there any moment to rescue him, of this he had no doubt. She would make everything all better like she had so many times before. After all, his Jane knew he could not swim.
As the water filled his lungs in the final seconds of his life, Eric still held onto the fantasy.
Then he died.
Sunday
July 4th 1999
American Independence Day
The next morning the lake patrol became suspicious of the boat that had been anchored in the same spot for over twenty-four hours without anyone aboard, and eventually through several phone calls and personal interviews, they came to the conclusion that a dive was in order for further investigation.
The monitoring device worn by Eric saved Champaign County the cost of dredging the lake to find the body, and due to some loose lips in the patrol's ranks, a media circus was born.
To be fair to the men and women who made their living reporting the story, they were in a slow news period. Something as sensational as a less-than-admirable but prominent local attorney drowning under unexplained circumstances beat out their planned coverage of another small town's plans for Forth of July. News crews from as far away as Terre Haute, Indiana showed up on the scene, interviewing anyone they could find about the owner of the boat, a Mr. Eric Homman.
The Don Henley song 'Dirty laundry' seemed to be a fitting tribute to the cluster of people waiting on the shore for the latest update, and when the body bag was placed upon the deck of the patrol boat, a hush fell over the crowd that lasted all of three minutes before the real frenzy began.
There were allegations and rumors abound, many involving the former wife of the deceased, but they were shortly put to rest when the investigators knocked on the door of Walter and Kara McCormick. Walter still wasn't home and in a fit of confusion, Kara told the entire story without the common sense to have an attorney present.
Jane's name was cleared without her ever having the knowledge that it had been soiled in the first place.
Chicago news stations are notorious for ignoring anything that does not happen within their borders, especially if it occurs in an area as dull as downstate Illinois and they didn't pick up the story. They left the farmers to themselves, and stuck to what really mattered. The day of Eric Homman's recovery, Michael Jordan's golf score from a holiday charity outing was the lead-in for the five o'clock broadcast.
Chapter 6 B
Sunday
July 18 1999
8 am
Oak Park, Illinois
Charles ran his fingers through his wet hair when he caught a glimpse at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror. He looked tired–he was tired. Two weeks ago Homman did the world a favor and ceased to exist. Charles wasn't proud of his attitude, but it was honestly what he felt every time he thought about the man. Even in death Homman was able to affect his family by leaving all of his earthly belongings to Jane. It had taken the better part of a week to clear up that 'mess' and have everything of Eric's transferred to his parents. Jane wanted nothing of Eric's …and neither did he.
Needless to say they did not attend the services for him, and Charles traveled alone to Champaign last week to take care of any unfinished business left due to the will. While there, he went to the condo Eric had been leasing for the past few years primarily out of curiosity, and what he saw he would never tell Jane about.
There were pictures of her and Eric put out in frames all over the house, some from their wedding and others snapshots taken throughout the years. In many of them she appeared to be stiff and formal, not at all like the woman he knew, and her smile often looked forced and plastic. He collected up the frames and put them into a garbage bag that he would dispose of on his way out. Charles didn't want to take the chance that someone would pack them up and return them to Jane.
One step inside Eric's bedroom told him that all of his fears and suspicions were correct; Eric would have never given up on Jane. Obviously he had spent some time getting the room all set up for her by using Jane's favorite colors and flowers in the decor. The comforter covering the king sized bed was almost an exact copy of the one Charles has seen in her apartment before they were married, and the accessories were made of the lace she liked so much. He probably shouldn't have opened the closet, but he did. Neatly stacked in the back were four wrapped gifts with Jane's name on the tags. Judging by the size and lightness of the packages, Charles assumed they contained lingerie and he put them into the trash bag without bothering to open them.
On his way out of the 'Condo of Horrors' he met up with Eric's parents. He had been informed that they had returned to New Mexico for the week before returning to pack up their son's belongings and would not be in town, but that was not the case. He introduced himself to the surprised couple and watched as their faces hardened. Eric had told them that Jane was having trouble divorcing her current husband, and Charles was the cause of the delay in their getting back together. Mr. and Mrs. Homman had always been very fond of Jane and they viewed Charles as the man who had possibly cost them their son's life. In their opinion if Jane would have been with Eric, he might have not been on his boat and therefore he wouldn't have drowned. The usually quiet couple began to place blame where they saw fit.
Charles did not waste time arguing with them or explaining the circumstances, but left with the garbage bag in hand. They were nothing like Jane had described them to be.
Jane. She was beginning to come out of her shell a little at a time. What Charles did not realize was that it was due to him and the time he spent with her during the past month. Instead, he assumed it was a natural process taking place and took no credit where it was due. As soon as news of Eric's death was delivered to them, he started in with a new approach where he helped Jane find the power within herself to deal with the latest trauma introduced in her life, and she listened to every word he said. Very rocky in the beginning, each day she gained more strength in her confidence, and other than her uncomfortable conscience asking her why she felt no sorrow over Eric's passing, she found that with Charles's support she was able to take the first step to controlling her life again.
There were still signs that she had a way to go. One of them being that she would not park her car in the garage, but this would straighten itself out in time and until it did, Charles put her car away at night and brought it out every morning for her. He attempted to keep a tight lid on his urge to protect her from everything and everyone that might upset her, but logically he saw that this would not be doing her any favors. Instead he carefully picked out the areas he kept close watch on, for example her parents, and allowed the others to be without his intervention.
Still, he was on alert most of the time and the pressure of all that was happening at home combined with the stress he was currently experiencing at work left him…tired.
He turned from the mirror when he heard his bathroom door open and in came Jane with a cup of coffee. She had played hooky from Church this morning and was still in her nightgown.
"I thought you could use this before I made breakfast." She gently set the cup down on the vanity and moved over to stand behind him. Laying her head against his back, Jane wrapped her arms around his abdomen and gave him a hug.
"Do you have anything you want to do today?"
"Nothing in particular. You?" He answered back softly.
"No." Jane got up on her tiptoes and gave a small smile into the mirror at him. He met her glance and held it for a while. It was so good to see her smile. Resting her chin on his shoulder, Jane brought her hands up to his bare chest. She was about to make a suggestion on how they could spend their morning when he removed one of her hands, brought it up to his lips, and then moved away.
"Why don't I get dressed and help you with breakfast?" Charles offered with his own smile still on his face. "If you cook the bacon, I'll do the French toast."
"Oh…okay." She assumed Charles didn't get the hint she was sending him and accepted his offer with only a small amount of disappointment. It had been a while since they had been with each other, and possibly they had misplaced their ability to communicate their intentions clearly without having to say the words. But Jane was certain it would come back in time. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."
"It won't take long." He returned before she turned to leave the room. "Jane?"
"Yes?"
Charles stepped toward her and leaned down to give her a soft kiss. "Love you."
"I love you, too."
"I'll be down shortly."
July 1932
Another from across the sea.
Zoya placed a sugar bowl on the silver tray and prepared it to be taken into the living room. It had been agreed upon prior to her accepting the position with the Moores that she would have no other duties in the home other than cooking, but today was a special occasion and she stepped forward out of loyalty to lend a hand and serve tea.
The third Mrs. Frank Lloyd Wright, formally a Miss Olgivanna Milanoff, was touring the home for the first time on the day that the housekeeper Mrs. Oleson was ill in bed. The only other available person was the upstairs maid Claire, and Claire did not have the experience or poise needed to perform such a task.
The Moores were so very good to Zoya and Vladimir that she offered her services as soon as Mrs. Moore came rushing into the kitchen all out of breath and full of excitement.
"Zoya darling, I need your advice. I need your help!" The plump lady leaned over red faced, causing Zoya to become alarmed for her health.
"What is it?" Concerned, she reached out for the woman's shoulder.
"I have just received word that we are to have a visitor today for tea. You will never guess who!" Mrs. Moore caught her breath and continued on without waiting for a reply. "Mrs. Olgivanna Wright! Isn't that interesting?"
"Yes, it is." Smiling, Zoya relaxed. The name she recognized from Vladimir talking of her husband. "Has she been in the residence before?"
"No. This will be her first tour of the home." Mrs. Moore facial features took on a look of worry.
"I see you are agitated. Tell me, what is the reason? Is this not a good occasion?"
"I need the tea to be special. Lately her husband has been stating that he dislikes this home and considers it one of the worse of the period. I want to make a good impression on her not only with the house, but with me, too. Zoya darling, is it possible for you to work some magic and bring about something spectacular to go with our tea?"
"It will be no problem. Do you have anything in particular in mind?"
"Black Forest cake?" Mrs. Moore requested shyly. It was her personal favorite.
Zoya tried very hard not to laugh. American's and their ideas about teatime were quite different than what she was accustomed to. Or perhaps it was only the Moores who turned tea time into a forth meal, but it was of no matter. If Mrs. Moore wanted Black Forest cake she would receive it, but Zoya would also make sure she didn't embarrass herself by serving a dessert so inappropriate.
"Since the name Olgivanna is Eastern European, what if I was to also make something traditional to accompany your cake? Possibly a pastry lighter and less sweet in case this is what she prefers? Would you like me to do that?" Zoya already knew the answer before she asked the question.
"What a splendid idea. I knew I could count on you." Mrs. Moore clapped her hand together in glee before one last worry overcame her. "Will there be enough time?"
"Yes, plenty of time."
Mrs. Olgivanna Wright was a tall, thin woman in her late thirties to early forties. What she lacked in beauty she made up for in conversations skills and general attitude. When Zoya set the tray down on the coffee table, the woman immediately gave a 'thank you' to her.
"You are very welcome." Zoya returned cheerfully before addressing her employer. "Mrs. Moore, would you like me to pour?"
The thick accent of the dark haired woman caught Olgivanna's ear and she recognized its origin.
"Miss?"
"Yes? Please, call me Zoya."
"Zoya, where do you come from in Russia?"
"I am from St. Petersburg, or shall I say Leningrad, ma'am."
"I thought so. I was born in Russia myself, but my family left the country before the revolution. In my youth I spent a great deal of time in St. Petersburg. What is your family's name."
"Borodin." This was the first time since entering the United States that anyone had asked her this very personal question. She and Vladimir kept to themselves and with the exception of a few friends he had made since arriving in Illinois, she had not expected anyone taking an interest in her heritage.
"Borodin? Who is your father?" Olgivanna did not sense the hesitation coming from the younger woman.
"Uri Borodin."
The room fell silent as Olgivanna went into quiet reflection for a moment. The name was very familiar, but she could not quite place it.
"Did your father hold a title?" She asked suddenly as Zoya was preparing to leave the ladies to their tea.
"My father is a laborer." Zoya answered a little too quickly, sparking Olgivanna's imagination.
"Are you living alone in America or did your family join you?"
"I am here with my husband."
"And what does he do?"
"Currently he is a construction worker, but in Poland he was an architect."
"Really? Why is he not in his occupation now?"
"Work is scarce." Zoya shared a look of shared comprehension with Olgivanna. They were both foreigners in this country and understood the nepotistic system that kept most non-natives out of the higher paying skilled jobs. "Until there is more work available, he continues to hone his talent on his own."
"I see." Olgivanna turned to a smiling Mrs. Moore. "I am fascinated by the drawings and sketches from those in the architecture field. With Zoya's permission, would you mind if I looked at a few of her husband's drawings? It would not take us but a short time."
"Not at all. Enjoy yourself and I will wait for you here. Zoya, is this agreeable?" Mrs. Moore could not be more pleased. She had been having a difficult time carrying a conversation with Olgivanna during the past hour as she gave her the tour of the house and was fearful that she would not leave with the favorable impression she had hoped for. But, if she were interested in Zoya as much as she seemed to be, this would be most welcome. Everyone liked Zoya and there was never a foul word uttered in conjunction with her name.
"Well, yes. I do not believe Vladimir would object. Mrs. Wright, if you will follow me, I will show you to his drawing room."
The two ladies left a contented Mrs. Moore and went down to the three rooms Zoya and Vladimir used in the basement.
"Are there any other's living down here with you?" Zoya let out a short breath as the questions began again. Olgivanna was too inquisitive for her taste.
"No. Miss Claire occupies the servants quarters on the second floor and Mrs. Oleson lives with her family across town."
"Good." Olgivanna placed her hand on Zoya's arm to stop her. In a quite whisper, she confessed what was on her mind. "I know who you are."
"Who might that be?" her voice held a slight tremble. To be discovered by someone with ties to General Vabka was a worry she had not had since arriving in the country.
"Your Father is Prince Uri Borodin, am I correct?"
"That was a very long time ago and with the abundance of Princes in Pre-Revolutionary Russia, the title carried little weight. We were no relation to the Royal Family, simply landowners that happened to have ancestors willing to work their way up the class rank. My family was not even what one would deem wealthy, but we were comfortable. Today my father is Uri Borodin-Soviet laborer. The land has been divided evenly and the house is now a school."
"I was at your home once, so long ago."
"Were you?"
"Yes. My father was visiting the countryside and we stopped at the residence of Prince Uri. You must have been a baby then. Is it not odd that we would meet again like this?"
"Yes, it is. Mrs. Wright, I do not mention my family to the people I work with or for. They would not understand. I want them to simply know me as Zoya. It keeps confusion at bay."
"You're a practical woman for one so young. I will not tell a soul. My own family lost contact with so many friends and acquaintances after the revolution. It is nice to meet another."
"Thank you. If I may be so bold to ask, do you really want to view Vladimir's drawings or did you only seek a private word with me?"
"I would like to see his drawings."