Helens-of-Troy

CHAPTER TWELVE

Helen reached out to the wall for support. A wave of nausea had suddenly come over her. "I think I'm going to faint."

"Not you too? Do I need to call an ambulance?" Helena asked, taking her cell phone from her pocket. "Maybe I need to call someone to check this house for a gas leak."

"No," Helen gasped. "Forget the ambulance. Call a priest." She had now slumped as low to the floor as she could without physically lying down.

Helena shut the cell phone off and put it back in her pocket. It was now clear to her that medical help was not what her daughter needed. She turned her back to Helen and lowered her own body to the floor as well.

"Climb up," she said.

"You want to piggyback me?" Helen asked in astonishment. "You can't carry me. I'll throw your back out." She tried to stand up. "It's okay. I think I'm coming around now... wooo... maybe not."

"Either you climb on my back so I can lift you, or I drag you across the floor. Your choice."

Helen reluctantly put her legs around her mother's hips and stretched her arms around her neck. It was the last thing she did before losing consciousness.

"It's probably just as well," Helena thought, as she prayed for some inner strength. "Isis," she said, lowering her head "Mother Goddess, send me the strength to protect my family."

She took a deep breath, stood up, and carried Helen's limp body into the living room, gently laying her down on the sofa. Perhaps it wasn't so gentle. Perhaps it was more like rolling a sack of potatoes off her back onto the couch. No matter. She got her to the couch as best she could under the circumstances.

"I'm changing your treatment plan. I think I need some fresh mint from the garden to bring you back to your senses," she told her sleeping daughter. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Helen was in a deep slumber and didn't even notice her mother leaving the room.

Helena went into the kitchen and headed to the backdoor. She laughed as she realized she had left it unlocked. Helen would kill her if she knew it had been open the whole time they were out.

Outside, a bullfrog began to croak as she stepped onto the back landing. That was a good sign. If the amphibian was there, then he wasn't. She didn't know why that was, but it had always seemed to be the case. They didn't like to be around each other. Food for thought. In retrospect, that was probably why.

She stopped just before the herb garden, at what was the second dead grass spot on her property. Stan always seemed to miss mowing that part, probably because he had once trimmed a little too close to the fragrant plants and she had warned him not to do it again.

"Stan, you've got it wrong," she whispered, "the body's not by the back porch when he's here. He's by the garden."

She reached down and scratched at the area with her fingers, putting a quarter-sized sample of the grass and dirt into her hand. She sniffed it. It smelled earthy, but not musky.

"He hasn't been her for a couple of days," she told herself, now brushing the dirt from her hands. "The scary part is, I'm not so sure if that's a good thing or a bad one."

Helena pondered this as she reached over to the mint patch. She took leaves from several stems and rubbed them between her palms, releasing their natural oils. "At least it will wake up Helen's consciousness," she sighed as she inhaled the aroma. "I still need something to wake up her psyche. What I need to do, is call Willie."

She readied herself to summon him, but was distracted by the sounds of sirens wailing off into the night. There had been too many of those lately; her peaceful little town was changing. Even the Lachey house didn't look quite right. It was in total darkness.

"That's strange for a Saturday," she thought. Betty was normally in her upstairs bedroom at this hour, with the glare from her television casting shadows upon the window.

She glanced down the mutual driveway. The Lachey side door light was off, also an irregularity. Betty had always left the light on for Ryan ever since Stan had left his skateboard out one night and Ryan had tripped over it. Betty didn't want Ryan breaking his leg and ruining his football career. So unless Ryan had stayed in for the night... which was highly unlikely...there was something amiss at the neighbors.

Then it dawned on Helena.

"My little bitch," she said, dumping the mint from her hand. "She knows exactly what's going on. Forget a gentle awakening. I'm going to slap her silly until she wakes up."

She stormed back into the living room and did just that. She slapped Helen. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to wake her up and annoy the hell out of her.

"Ow! Stop it!" Helen said, putting her hands up to protect her face.

"YOU stop it, Helen."

"What? I just passed out. I know it's not healthy but..."

"Passed out my ass. You fell into a trance. I thought you were just exaggerating when you asked me to get you a priest. What's going on, Helen? Do you know something about what's going on with Ellie and ..."

"And who mother?" She glared at Helena. "Ellie and who?"

Helena ignored her. "Tell me what you know. What have you envisioned?"

"I don't want to know or see anything, Mother. I can put people on ignore too."

"You're making a big mistake," Helena warned.

"No. The big mistake was in coming here. Tomorrow night I am packing up that van and taking Ellie back to the city. She'll be back in class with her pregnant friend by Monday and everything will be fine because everything will be back to normal."

"There is no normal. Not for us. Do you really think Tony, or anyone aside from a LaRose, can really be of any help to you or Ellie? Come on, out with it."

"I can keep a secret too, Mother. Do you know what I remembered when I was passed out? I remembered more about the nanny who came and disappeared. Marita."

"So you remembered the nanny? Helen, that was years ago."

"Was it? Because I have a funny feeling it wasn't so many years ago that you last talked to her. Tell you what, why don't you tell me your story and then I'll tell you mine?"

"So help me, Helen... you are being impossible. I've had enough of you today. I'm going to bed," Helena argued.

"See, I knew if push came to shove that you'd find an excuse to avoid the issue. And you say I'm the one who's in denial."

Helen watched as her mother went up the stairs. If her mother was going to play silly-buggers, then she would as well.

"Good night, Mother. And say good night to Marita too. Marita Harbinger," she yelled angrily.