Danielle Steel - Zoya

“Don't be so sure,” she was thinking of the children as he spoke, “they're very devoted to their father's memory.”

“That's a good thing,” he spoke quietly, “but you have a right to more than that in your life, and so do they. There's only so much you can do for them. Your son needs a man around, and your little girl probably does too.”

“Perhaps.” She would concede nothing as he walked her home, but he took her by surprise as he kissed her gently on the lips. “Please don't do that again,” she whispered with no conviction whatsoever.

“I won't,” he said as he did it again.

“Thank you.” She smiled dreamily up at him, and a moment later closed the door in his face, as he walked upstairs to his own cabin, with a grin on his face, like a schoolboy.

CHAPTER

37

The romance flourished in spite of her, as they sailed toward New York. They dined and they danced, and they kissed and they talked. And she felt as though she had known him all her life. They had the same interests, the same likes, and even some of the same fears. Axelle left them alone, and chortled to herself as she watched from afar, and on the last night, they stood on the deck and Simon looked sadly down at her.

“I'm going to miss you terribly, Zoya.”

“I'm going to miss you too,” she confessed, “but it's just as well.” She was enjoying herself too much with him and she knew it had to stop, but she no longer remembered exactly why. It had all made sense several days ago, but it no longer did. She wanted to be with him, as much as he wanted her, and now they were going back to New York to lead their own lives again. “We shouldn't have started this, Simon,” she said as he looked at her and smiled.

“I'm in love with you, Zoya Ossupov.” He loved the sound of her Russian name, and still teased her now and then about the title she hated to use, but did for work.

“Don't say things like that, Simon. It will only make things more difficult.”

“I want to marry you.” He said it quietly, without a shred of doubt in his voice, as she looked up at him unhappily.

“That's impossible.”

“No, it's not. Let's go home and tell the children we're in love.”

“That's crazy. We just met.” And she hadn't even let him make love to her yet. She was still frightened, and too bound by her loyalties to her late husband.

“All right. Then let's wait a week.”

She laughed at him and he kissed her again.

“Will you marry me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you're crazy,” she laughed between kisses on the deck. “You might even be dangerous for all I know.”

“I'll be very dangerous if you don't marry me. Have you ever seen a crazed Russian Jew go berserk on an English ship? It could cause an international incident! Think of the people you'll upset … I think you'd better say yes….” He kissed her again.

“Simon, please … be sensible. … You might hate me when you see me again in New York.”

“I'll let you know tomorrow night. If I don't, will you marry me?”

“No!” It was impossible to be serious with him at times, and at other times he seemed to be able to look into her very soul.

He took her hands firmly in his then and looked down into her eyes. “I have never in my life ever asked a woman to marry me. I'm in love with you. I'm a responsible man. I have a business. My family thinks I'm very intelligent. I am begging you, Zoya … please, darling … please marry me.”

“Oh Simon, I can't.” She looked at him unhappily. “What would my children think? They depend on me entirely, they're not ready for someone to walk into their lives, and neither am I. I've been alone for too long.”

“Yes, you have,” he said quietly. “Much too long. But you don't have to stay that way. Will you think about it?”

She hesitated, and then melted as she looked up at him. “I will … but that doesn't mean any thing will ever come of it.” But that was enough for him, they sat for hours, talking on the deck, and the next morning he knocked on her cabin door at seven o'clock.

“Come and look at the Statue of Liberty with me.”

“At this hour?” She was still in her nightgown, and her hair hung down her back in a long braid as she opened the door to him. “What time is it?”

He smiled as he saw the nightgown and the braid. “It's time to get up, lazy face. You can get dressed afterward. Just put on a coat and some shoes.” She slipped into the mink Axelle had given her several years before, and laughed as she put on high heels, and followed him onto the deck in her outlandish outfit.

“If any of my clients see me, they'll never trust my judgment again.”

“Good. Then maybe Axelle will fire you, and I can save you from a terrible fate.” But they both fell silent as they saw the skyline of New York and the Statue of Liberty as they sailed slowly in. “It's beautiful, isn't it?”

“It is.” She nodded happily. She had paid homage to the past, and now she was looking at the future again. Everything here seemed new and alive, and just looking at it made her feel good again. He turned then and took her in his arms, and held her close as they docked, and then she hurried downstairs to dress and close her trunks. And she didn't see him again until they were ready to leave the ship. He offered them a ride, but they had to decline as Axelle had a car waiting for them. But he followed them down the gangplank, carrying their small bags, and suddenly Zoya gave a small shout and surged ahead. Nicholas was waiting for her on the pier, scanning the crowd, looking so handsome and young. She ran to him, calling his name, and he flew into her arms and held her close. He had come alone, after taking Sasha to school, and it was obvious how much she loved the boy. Simon watched them enviously as he assisted Axelle, and then he went to where Zoya stood with her son, and solemnly shook her hand and smiled at the boy. He would have liked to have a son just like him, particularly when he saw how like Zoya he was.

“Hello, I'm Simon Hirsch.” He introduced himself as the boy looked up at him. “You must be Nicholas.” Nicky smiled shyly at the man, and then laughed.

“How did you know?”

“Your mother talks about you all the time.”

“I talk about her too,” he smiled, slipping an arm around her, as Zoya told him he had grown. He was almost fifteen years old, and he was already as tall as Clayton had been. “Did you have fiin?” He asked as they waited for her trunks, so the customs officer could inspect them.

“I did. But I missed you too much.” She said something to him in Russian then, and he laughed, and Simon laughed too, as Zoya realized he had understood her. “That's not fair!” She had told him that his hair was too long, and he looked like a large lovably shaggy dog. But Nicholas was suddenly interested in Simon as they stood on the dock together.

“So you speak Russian, sir?”

“A little bit. My parents are from Vladivostok. My mother used to say things like that to me in Russian too, sometimes she still does.” They all laughed, and a moment later the bags were checked, and Axelle and Zoya were free to go, and as they drove away, Simon stood watching them, waving for a long time, as in the car Nicholas asked his mother, in Russian again.

“Who was that?”

“A friend of Axelle's. He happened to be on the ship with us.”

“He seems like a nice man.” Nicholas looked unimpressed.

“He is,” Zoya said noncommittaily, and asked him how Sasha was.

“As impossible as she always is. Now she wants a dog. A wolfhound, if you please. She says they're ‘all the rage,’ and she's going to drive you crazy till she gets one. I think they're horrible. If we get anything, let's get a pug, or a boxer.”