Danielle Steel - Crossings

“Not much.” She was looking like a spoiled little girl again. “I'm bored to tears.”

“So cry. We'll be in Paris in two days, you can survive up here till then.” But she didn't answer him. She ordered another Scotch, ate only half a club sandwich for lunch, and afterward he walked around the shops with her, hoping to keep her mind off her new friends. But when he went to check on John at the pool after that, she disappeared. He sat in their cabin until she came back to dress, and when she walked in the door, he felt himself lose control in total, impotent rage, and he was shocked to find his hand pulled back to slap her face. Thankfully just then he saw Johnny peeking through the door of his room, and he rapidly regained control and lowered his hand. Time and time again she pushed him to the brink, but this was the first time he'd ever felt the need to strike at her. He motioned her inside their room. He could see that she had had a lot to drink, and suddenly he felt as though he had been slapped. There was a bite mark on her neck, and he dragged her to the mirror to show her, trembling with rage.

“How dare you come back to me like that, you little whore. How dare you!” He was sure that Johnny could hear his voice through the wall but he was beyond caring. She pulled free of him.

“What did you want me to do? Stay downstairs?”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will.”

“For God's sake, Hillary, what's happening to you? Don't you have any decency at all? Do you climb in and out of any bed you find?” This time it was she who raised her hand and slapped him.

“I told you before. I'll do anything I goddamn want. You don't own me, you son of a bitch. All you care about anyway is your bloody steel mill, your contracts, your goddamn dynasty that you'll leave to Johnny one day. And what do I get out of that? What do I care about your empire? I don't give a shit. Do you know that? Not about your empire and not about you.” She fell silent then, knowing that she had said too much, and there were tears in Nick's eyes as he turned away. He said nothing at all to her. He went quietly out on their private deck, and she watched him for a long time, and then followed him outside. His back was turned as he leaned forward on the rail, and Hillary's voice was hoarse as she spoke to him.

“I'm sorry, Nick.”

“Leave me alone.” He sounded like a hurt little boy, and for a moment her heart ached, but in her eyes he was the greatest enemy she had. He wanted to keep her in chains, and she wanted to be free. He turned to face her then and there were tears in his eyes. “Go back inside.”

“You're crying.” She looked even more shocked.

“Yes, I am.” He didn't seem to be ashamed, which shocked her still more. Men didn't cry. Not strong men. Not the men she knew. But Nick Burnham did. He was stronger than them all, and deep inside he grieved, not for her, but for himself, for the foolishness that had led him to marry her at all. “The game is over between us, Hil.”

“Do you want a divorce?” She almost sounded pleased and she offered him no comfort at all.

But his eyes bore deep into hers. “No, I don't. And let me tell you right now, I never will. The only way you'll ever walk out of this marriage is alone. The day you agree to that, I'll divorce you on the spot. But until that day, you're married to me, for better or worse. Remember that. And from now on, I don't give a damn what you do.”

“You mean leave Johnny if we get divorced?” She sounded shocked again.

“That's right.”

“I'll never do that.”

“Why not? You don't give a damn about him, any more than you do about me.” It was a simple statement of fact and he was right, but she wouldn't admit that to him. Not now.

“I won't give him up.” She sounded petulant again. Nick was always screwing up her life. Here he had tantalized her with talk of divorce, only to say that she would have to give up their son. “I wouldn't think of it.”

“Why not?” He was goading her, and he noticed that she had had the decency to cover her neck with a scarf. All of a sudden he felt the urge to slap her again.

“What would people think if I gave him up?”

“Do you care?”

“Sure I care. They'd think I was a drunk or something.”

“You almost are. And worse than that, you're a whore.”

“If you call me names, you son of a bitch, you'll never get your son.”

“Well, keep it in mind. You can have out anytime you want. But without him.” She was about to say something vicious to him, but once again she was helpless in his hands. She knew that to divorce him, she would have to do so on grounds of adultery, and she would never be able to establish those grounds against him. Nick was faithful to her. She knew by the vehemence with which he took her now and then, he was a man burning with loneliness and desire. And she was a woman drowning in her own helpless rage. She would never get what she wanted out of him now. Never. She knew it as she went back inside. And why should she leave John with him? He was her son, after all, and in a few years he might be fun to have around. She liked young people. She would like him and his friends. She just didn't like little kids, that was all. She would never give him to Nick. Never. She'd never live it down. People would whisper behind her back for years. They would say that Nick had thrown her out. And she wouldn't tolerate that. When she left him, everyone would know that she had left him .

Nick stood alone on the deck for a long time, trying to calm his thoughts. He knew that a final turning point had come. It was the first time they had ever spoken seriously of divorce, even in a rage. But even on the ship, she couldn't stay out of other beds. He knew her for what she was now, and he would never open up to her again. And maybe in time she would tire of the game. Maybe she would run off and leave Johnny with him. He could give the child a happy life, whether he remarried or not. But that wasn't even worth thinking about now. He was married to Hillary, with all the agony that that meant. He stood staring at the sunset, thinking about his life, and his son, and then at last he went back inside to dress, and closed the door to the Deauville suite.

And it was then, and only then, that in an agony of embarrassment and pain, Liane could leave her deck chair on the private deck of the Trouville and go inside as well. They hadn't seen her when they had come out. She hadn't dared to move or speak. She didn't want them to know what she had heard, especially him. She felt deeply sorry for the man as she sat down in her own room. What a painful, lonely life he led. But what would he do now? What a lonely life that woman had condemned him to.

“My God, who died?” Armand walked in and kissed his wife. She had been sitting at her dressing table, staring at her feet.

“What? … oh … it's you.” She tried to smile, but she had a heavy heart. Liane always cared about other people's private griefs.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, of course not.” She smiled up at him then, but he could see that something was wrong.

“What's the matter, my love?”

She looked up at him with stricken eyes. “I just happened on the most awful scene.”

“Did someone get hurt?” He looked concerned.

“No. It was between Nick Burnham and his wife.”

“Oh, dear. A domestic fight? How did you happen into that?”

“I was sitting in a deck chair outside, reading my book, and they didn't realize I was there. When they came out on their deck, I heard the whole thing. Apparently she's been sleeping with someone on the ship.”

“I'm not surprised. But it's a bit his fault as well for not controlling his wife.”