The Game of Love and Death(28)

“Ethan!” Mr. Thorne choked back a laugh, even as he rebuked his son.

“Well, then I must be part cat,” Helen said. “I think it’s delicious.” She put a huge forkful in her mouth and chewed, closing her eyes with pleasure.

Mrs. Thorne looked pleased to have found an ally. “Henry,” she said, “don’t you have anything to say to Helen? Ask her about her journey?”

“I’d rather talk about ham,” Ethan said. “Helen, is ham also terribly modern?”

“Or bread.” Annabel slid down in her chair until only her eyes were visible above the tablecloth. “I like rye bread best. It is terribly delicious.”

Henry tried to think of a question for Helen, preferably one that didn’t involve food. He felt Helen’s gaze, looked up, and had to turn away in embarrassment. She laughed and emptied her wine glass. Her lips and teeth were stained.

“How was the weather on your journey?” It was the best question he could conjure.

“Inside the train?” Helen dabbed her red lips with a napkin. “No storms, I suppose. Though there was some bad weather on the East Coast just as we were leaving. Thunder and lightning. I was frightened half to death.”

“Electrical storm,” Mr. Thorne said. “Took down the Hindenburg. If they’d launched it here, where those sorts of storms are a rarity, that tragedy might have been averted. But no, it was Germany, and Rio, and New Jersey. New Jersey!” He said it as if New Jersey were the waiting room of Hell itself.

Everyone was silent for a moment, except for the scraping of forks against china. Henry glanced out the window into the twilit sky, and he felt something tug at his core, as though someone had called his name from a great distance.

“Mother,” Ethan said. He had his hand on his chest and his face was pale. “I’m not feeling well all of a sudden.”

“Why, Ethan,” Mrs. Thorne said, “whatever is the matter?”

Ethan reached for his water goblet and drank until he coughed. “I might go outside and get some air. Maybe even go for a drive.” He did look unwell.

“May I come?” Helen asked.

Mrs. Thorne looked alarmed. “Ethan, if you’re feeling ill, then you should go straight to bed.”

“All right, Mother,” Ethan said. He laid his napkin on the table, pushed in his chair, and left.

“What about you, Henry?” Helen asked. “Would you take me for a drive?”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Thorne said.

Henry panicked. That would scotch his plans to go to the Domino.

“You can use my car,” Mr. Thorne said. “Special treat.”

“After the cake,” Mrs. Thorne said. “It was made especially for Helen.”

“Lovely,” Helen said.

“It’s your grandmother’s recipe, dear,” Mrs. Thorne said. “God rest her soul.”

“Yes,” Helen said. “God rest her soul.”



Henry steered Mr. Thorne’s car along Fairview Avenue and toward downtown.

“Are you nervous?” Helen asked. “You seem twitchy.”

“Nervous? No. Just thinking about schoolwork, I suppose.” Henry wasn’t thinking anything of the sort, but what Helen didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. He’d resolved to keep her away from his usual haunts, and instead, was driving her to Queen Anne, where they could ride a cable car to the top of the hill and see the city lights and the waterfront from above.

She laughed lightly, but Henry could feel her watching him. They parked at the bottom of the hill, and he guided her onto one of the cable cars, his hand lightly — politely — on her elbow.

“I don’t understand how they run,” Helen said. She covered his hand with her gloved one.

“Think opposing forces.” Henry took the opportunity to liberate his hand as he demonstrated how these particular cable cars worked. “There’s a counterbalance underneath. It’s sort of a weighted car that runs through an underground tunnel about three feet high. At the top of the hill, they release the weighted car. As it travels down, it pulls the passenger cars up. Then, when the streetcar goes down, it pulls the counterbalance up.”

“Interesting,” Helen said. “I do love opposing forces. They keep things exciting, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” It seemed like a lot of bother when so many people had automobiles. They boarded the cable car and took their seats. Helen leaned her head out the window. The wind pushed her hair behind her, and Henry couldn’t help but notice how lovely she looked in the evening light.

She came back inside. “It seems terribly dangerous.”

“The cable breaks sometimes,” Henry said. “That’s why they have all those sandbags down there. They stop the crash. As long as you plan ahead, you can manage the danger pretty well.”

“Sandbags,” Helen laughed. “Sacks of sand against an elemental force and a cable car that weighs thousands of pounds.”

“Well, it’s not going to break now, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Henry felt as though he should reassure her, even though he had no idea whether it would break. If that could be predicted, then there would be no need for the sandbags and other precautions.