After a brief wait, a stylish stocky woman answered the door. Immediately, Helena recognized the same regal haughtiness she had once admired in Frederic, and the same strong, aristocratic nose.
“I am a friend of Frederic’s,” Helena said, standing tall in her shabby, oversize raincoat. “I was hoping you could help me find him. It’s urgent.”
Mrs. Walenski was on guard. “I don’t know where my son is.”
“Wait!” Helena pushed her hand against the closing door. “Just one moment. What I have to tell you should be spoken in private.”
Mrs. Walenski’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, and Helena read dismissal in their flinty coldness. “I don’t allow strangers inside my home. What is this about?”
Standing on the front stoop, Helena stubbornly held her ground. She unbuttoned her long coat and slipped it open, revealing the rounded belly of a woman in her fifth month of pregnancy. She felt tawdry beside the elegance of her surroundings, ashamed of her predicament, but for her child’s sake, for Frederic’s, she would not back down.
“I am carrying Frederic’s child.”
“You are lying,” Mrs. Walenski whispered, quickly ushering Helena into the foyer and closing the door. “Do you think you are the first girl to try to trap my son in such a vile manner?”
While Mrs. Walenski moved through the rooms with sharp precision, Helena wandered as though she were walking in a dream. The house was a blur of splendor, such a contrast from the ramshackle farmhouse her family squeezed into. As she gazed around the room, she noticed details rather than the whole: a gold filigreed clock, the rich carpet, a crystal chandelier of princely proportion. What must it be like to be the mistress of such a house? she wondered. If she were Frederic’s wife, would she live here as well?
“Tell me who you are,” Mrs. Walenski demanded.
“I am Helena Godowski and I am not trying to trap your son. Don’t you think it’s the other way around? I am carrying his child. Your grandchild. Frederic promised he would send for me from America, but as you can see, I can’t wait any longer. My family is shamed and I can’t return home, either. I’ve nowhere else to turn. The nuns want me to give away my child. Did Frederic never mention me?”
Mrs. Walenski was blinking heavily and shifting in her seat. “No, never. What do you want?”
“I want Frederic. I want to be with him.”
“That’s impossible! I don’t know where he is. Really, I don’t. He cannot write, you little fool. The authorities are looking for him, surely you understand that? You don’t want him to go to prison, do you? You can’t want that.”
“No, no, of course not.” Helena was flustered now, her face flushed with joy. If Frederic could not contact his mother, then surely he could not contact her, either. He had not forgotten her. He loved her! She was sure of it.
“I love Frederic,” she said. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, you must believe me.”
Mrs. Walenski’s shoulders lowered. She nodded, and a new sadness entered her eyes.
“I need help,” cried Helena, encouraged by the sympathy she now sensed. She looked at her belly. “Frederic doesn’t know about the child. He left before I was certain. Before I could tell him.” Raising her eyes, she leaned forward. “Please, if you could tell me just the name of the city in America he’s in, I’m sure I can find him. Please, you must believe me.”
Mrs. Walenski stared at nothing for a long time. Her hand had risen to her cheek and she sat as though frozen in thought. When she brought her hand back to her lap, her eyes were focused on Helena and the curve of her belly.
“I do believe you,” Mrs. Walenski replied at length.
“And now you must believe me. All I know is that he went to a city called Chicago in a province called Illinois. There is a large Polish population there.”
“Perhaps you can give me the names of your relatives, or friends. Someone I can
“I am a friend of Frederic’s,” Helena said, standing tall in her shabby, oversize raincoat. “I was hoping you could help me find him. It’s urgent.”
Mrs. Walenski was on guard. “I don’t know where my son is.”
“Wait!” Helena pushed her hand against the closing door. “Just one moment. What I have to tell you should be spoken in private.”
Mrs. Walenski’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, and Helena read dismissal in their flinty coldness. “I don’t allow strangers inside my home. What is this about?”
Standing on the front stoop, Helena stubbornly held her ground. She unbuttoned her long coat and slipped it open, revealing the rounded belly of a woman in her fifth month of pregnancy. She felt tawdry beside the elegance of her surroundings, ashamed of her predicament, but for her child’s sake, for Frederic’s, she would not back down.
“I am carrying Frederic’s child.”
“You are lying,” Mrs. Walenski whispered, quickly ushering Helena into the foyer and closing the door. “Do you think you are the first girl to try to trap my son in such a vile manner?”
While Mrs. Walenski moved through the rooms with sharp precision, Helena wandered as though she were walking in a dream. The house was a blur of splendor, such a contrast from the ramshackle farmhouse her family squeezed into. As she gazed around the room, she noticed details rather than the whole: a gold filigreed clock, the rich carpet, a crystal chandelier of princely proportion. What must it be like to be the mistress of such a house? she wondered. If she were Frederic’s wife, would she live here as well?
“Tell me who you are,” Mrs. Walenski demanded.
“I am Helena Godowski and I am not trying to trap your son. Don’t you think it’s the other way around? I am carrying his child. Your grandchild. Frederic promised he would send for me from America, but as you can see, I can’t wait any longer. My family is shamed and I can’t return home, either. I’ve nowhere else to turn. The nuns want me to give away my child. Did Frederic never mention me?”
Mrs. Walenski was blinking heavily and shifting in her seat. “No, never. What do you want?”
“I want Frederic. I want to be with him.”
“That’s impossible! I don’t know where he is. Really, I don’t. He cannot write, you little fool. The authorities are looking for him, surely you understand that? You don’t want him to go to prison, do you? You can’t want that.”
“No, no, of course not.” Helena was flustered now, her face flushed with joy. If Frederic could not contact his mother, then surely he could not contact her, either. He had not forgotten her. He loved her! She was sure of it.
“I love Frederic,” she said. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, you must believe me.”
Mrs. Walenski’s shoulders lowered. She nodded, and a new sadness entered her eyes.
“I need help,” cried Helena, encouraged by the sympathy she now sensed. She looked at her belly. “Frederic doesn’t know about the child. He left before I was certain. Before I could tell him.” Raising her eyes, she leaned forward. “Please, if you could tell me just the name of the city in America he’s in, I’m sure I can find him. Please, you must believe me.”
Mrs. Walenski stared at nothing for a long time. Her hand had risen to her cheek and she sat as though frozen in thought. When she brought her hand back to her lap, her eyes were focused on Helena and the curve of her belly.
“I do believe you,” Mrs. Walenski replied at length.
“And now you must believe me. All I know is that he went to a city called Chicago in a province called Illinois. There is a large Polish population there.”
“Perhaps you can give me the names of your relatives, or friends. Someone I can
Similar Books
