He soaked a coarse cloth in the lukewarm water and then washed the day's grime from his face and neck. After a clean, dry towel followed the same path, he spotted the leftover piece of cake on his desk. Topped with slivered almonds and a brandy-and-crème based icing, the Torta da Santiago was given to him the day before by Senora Valdez in payment for some work done on her husband's leg.
The senora had been very adamant about the cake's significance. Originating in the northwest part of Spain, it was named after the resting place of the Apostle Saint James, or as the Spanish called him, Santiago. The small town in Galicia had become one of the most popular stops for pilgrims retracing the steps of the venerable saint.
Folding the now damp towel, Helm walked slowly to his desk and pulled out the chair. 'Sometimes I feel like a wandering pilgrim,' he mused aloud. As he sat down with a groan, aching muscles making their presence known, he wondered if he would ever feel as if he truly belonged somewhere. Sure the people of Santa Helena needed him to stitch up wounds and set broken bones, but was that all there was? Was this truly where he was meant to be?
Pulling out his pocket watch he glanced at the time. Twelve-oh-one. It was official. Helm opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small, slightly dingy wax candle and a match. He carefully inserted the candle into the piece of cake, and then struck the match on the corner of the desk. As he lit the candle he sighed. By this time in his life he had expected to achieve so much more than he had.
Growing up he'd had the same dreams every young man does--marriage, children, a home. So far, he was zero for three. Instead he'd wasted much of his life in some inane war, killing hundreds belonging to some faceless mass called the Enemy. But he'd learned a lot. His time in service to his country had taught him plenty about what's really important in life. And it wasn't victory or power or wealth. What really mattered was finding that special place in life where you felt you were accomplishing something, and someone special to share it with.
"Another year without reaching that particular goal," he smirked. He tapped his fingers on the desk and looked around the empty room. Then he shrugged and blew out the candle.
Movement from the corner of the room caught his eye and when he looked up he discovered the Queen of Swords standing there, hands on her hips. When he glanced questioningly to the bolted door she quickly explained, "Your light was on, your window was open. Sounds like an invitation to me."
"Really?" he laughed shortly, still amazed at her boldness. The beautiful curve of her mouth told him she knew just what he thinking. "I'll have to remember that in the future. No telling who might come through an open window. Could be very dangerous."
She grinned showing straight white teeth and then her eyes caught the smoking candle.
"Dr. Helm!" she exclaimed, coming to stand in front of the desk. "Is it your birthday?"
"That's generally what blowing out a candle on a cake means," he replied wryly as he leaned back in his chair. "Your skills of deduction are incredible."
"Well why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked, hitching one hip up on the corner of his desk. "I didn't exactly see any evidence in town of a fiesta to celebrate this special day."
"I don't particularly care for parties," he said dismissively. "Especially those at which I'm the guest of honor."
He watched her digest that information. She didn't need to know that birthdays only reminded him of how little he'd accomplished in his life. Although he'd be surprised if she didn't already sense it. Even with the teasing tone, he hadn't been lying about her deductive skills. He'd never met anyone who seemed to stay one step ahead of her enemy the way the Queen did.
"That's a real pity, doctor," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sure the town would be honored to help you mark this day. After all, where would they be without you?"
'In the care of another, equally-capable doctor,' he answered silently. When he remained quiet, she said with a grin, "So, I have to ask, just how old are you?"
The question surprised him, even though he knew it shouldn't have. Her boldness knew no bounds. Rocking the chair back on its hind legs he smiled, "I'll tell you if you'll tell me."
"Doctor!" she laughed melodically, "don't you know a lady never reveals her age!"
The playful seductiveness she exuded made it difficult to place her age. Although she gave off a mature, experienced self-confidence, he knew in reality she had to be more than a decade younger than him.
With an almost imperceptible nod he said, "Thirty five."
She just smiled in return and he wondered if she thought him to be ancient. Didn't she know that age and treachery will always defeat youth and skill? The sound of her voice didn't give anything away as she said, "Well, happy birthday then. Even if I'm the only one to wish you it."
With another polite bow of the head, Helm watched as she then pulled off one of her black gloves and leaned over the desk to dip her finger in the cake's icing. The crème-ladened finger hovered temptingly in front of his mouth before she brought it up to her lips.
"Mmm, this is delicious," she purred around the now clean finger.
"I'll certainly pass that on to Senora Valdez," he replied, lowering his gaze lest she see the thinly-veiled desire her actions had precipitated. Each time he'd convinced himself that he didn't want or need this justice-dealing phantom, she went and did something like that! Did she realize how maddening that was? And how exciting?
"I should be on my way, doctor," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "Don't get up. I know the way out."
He supposed he should thank her for stopping by and enlivening an otherwise lonely and uninteresting night, but didn't want it to go to her head. Smiling over his little secret, he watched as she headed back toward the bedroom window.
"Oh doctor?" she turned around and asked slyly. "Just what did you wish for?"
He returned her impudent look innocently and said, "Now if I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"
"Goodnight, doctor," she replied in amusement. "I certainly hope it comes true."
When he was alone again he whispered, "So do I."
