Danielle Steel - Crossings

“Thank you, my darling.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek, “and yes, I am sad to leave the ship. But happy too. It's been a beautiful trip, but I'm ready to go home.”

“Already?” He loved to tease. “Won't you stay in Paris with me for a while?”

“You know what I mean.” She smiled in answer. “I'm anxious to get to Paris and set up house.”

“And I know you will, with those speedy hands. A week from now it will look as though we've been there for twenty years. I don't know how you do it, Liane. The paintings go up, the curtains are hung, the table is set, and I see your touch in every room.”

“Maybe I was just meant to be a diplomat's wife.” They both knew it was true, and she grinned. “Or a gypsy. Sometimes I think it's the same thing.”

“Please don't tell the Bureau Central that.” They strolled along some more, enjoying the warm night and talking over the days on the ship.

“I wish I had been able to spend more time with you on this trip. I've been almost sorry I brought Perrier along. He's too diligent about his work.”

She smiled gently at her husband. “And so are you.”

“Am I?” His eyes smiled. “Well, perhaps things will be better when we get to France.” But at this she only laughed.

“What ever makes you think that?” She knew better and so did he.

“Because I want it to be. I want to spend more time with you.”

“So do I.” She sighed, but she didn't look unhappy. “But I understand.”

“I know you do, but it doesn't seem right. Things were so different in Vienna years ago.” They had had time for long walks after lunch, and quiet afternoons when he came back from his work. But that had been a long time ago. They were different now, and the world was different too.

“You weren't as important then, my love.”

“I'm not very important now. Just overworked, and these are such troubled times.” She nodded, suddenly thinking back to her talk the night before with Nick. She had mentioned it vaguely to Armand over breakfast, only that they had met on the “back porch,” as it were, but Armand had been in a hurry to meet Jacques for a quick talk, and he hadn't really listened to her.

They stood quietly on the deck then, looking out to sea, in the direction of France, and Liane hoped that what they would find there would prove Armand wrong, at least to some degree. She didn't want there to be a war. She didn't want to see him devoured by his work. Like him, she wanted them to have more time together. It was a selfish reason to wish that there would be no war.

“Shall we go back, chérie?” She nodded and they went back to their suite and closed the door quietly, just as Nick turned the corner on the way to his new room. And he stood there for a moment, thinking of the night before, and the woman whose hand he had held for only a few minutes and who had told him that things were going to be different for him someday. He hoped it would be soon.

he Normandie pulled into Le Havre at ten o'clock the next morning, just as the passengers were finishing breakfast. Their bags were packed, their staterooms ready to be emptied, the children dressed, the governesses prepared, and everyone was sorry to leave now. The romances that had been born on the ship seemed too poignant, the friendships too dear. But the frenzied activity on the quay proved that it was over. The captain was on the bridge, seeing that everything went smoothly, and for him another crossing was over. He had brought the Normandie safely back to France.

In the Trouville suite, Armand and Liane were ready to disembark and the girls were jumping up and down with excitement. They had watched the big ship glide into port from their private deck, and they had waved to John outside the Deauville suite, but now he waited with his mother and father. He was wearing a white linen Eton suit with a white shirt, knee socks, and saddle shoes, and his mother was staring out the window in a white silk dress and a large picture hat. Nick had already tipped all the stewards, and their trunks had left the suite. He knew that a car would be waiting for them on the dock, and they left the suite now and went downstairs to leave before the others. Their passports would be stamped on the quay by a special immigrations officer, and then they would be off.

“Ready, chérie?” Liane nodded yes and she followed Armand out, and they went downstairs with the girls behind them. She had worn the beige Chanel suit he liked, with the pink trim, and a pink silk blouse. She looked very pretty and fresh, and very much like an ambassador's wife as they prepared to leave the ship. She glanced behind her, at the girls in flowered organdy dresses and straw hats, their favorite dolls in their arms, and Mademoiselle, looking very official in a gray-striped uniform and her starched cap.

There was a small group of passengers who had been asked to gather in the Grand Salon for early disembarkation. The rest of the passengers would meet with immigrations and customs officers in the dining room, and leave the ship in an hour or so, in time to board the boat train from Le Havre to Paris. Liane noticed as they stood, waiting to be released, that the German she had met at the captain's table was waiting there too, and several other couples she hadn't met. In all, there weren't more than a dozen or so people, specially privileged, with diplomatic passports or important names. And as they waited, Armand's assistant, Jacques Perrier, joined them as well, the briefcase straining at his arm, his glasses in place, his face as mournful as ever. He was a constant reminder of unfinished work.

And it was then, as he and Armand conferred for a last moment before they left the ship, that Nick finally managed to come over for a moment to see her, to say good-bye to her and the girls, and nod to Armand.

“I wanted to say good-bye to you yesterday, but I didn't want to intrude. I saw you with your husband on the deck. …” His eyes seemed to touch her face, and she felt a strong urge to reach for his hand again, but this didn't seem the time or the place.

“I'm happy to see you now, Nick.” She felt as though in leaving him, she was leaving the last familiar piece of terrain of her own country. And she felt homesick suddenly as they stood there and talked. “I hope that everything goes smoothly for you in Paris.” She didn't glance at Hillary as she spoke, but he knew what she meant and he smiled.

“It will. Things are already better now.” She wasn't sure what he meant and imagined that he was referring to some unexpected rapprochement with his wife. Perhaps he had forgiven her again, or she had promised to reform. Liane hoped so for his sake, but couldn't know that what he had meant was actually his new sense of freedom since the night they had talked. “I'd like to stay in touch.”

“I'm sure that we'll see you in Paris. In a way, it's a small town.”

Their eyes met and held for an endless moment, and she wasn't sure what she felt at all. Leaving him now was almost like losing a friend or a brother, and yet she scarcely knew him. It was the magic of the ship, weaving its spell, and she smiled at the thought.

“Take care of yourself … and John. …”

“I will … and you too….”

“Liane! On y va.” Armand sounded hurried now. He was anxious to leave, and had been told that they could go. He came quickly to Liane's side, shook Burnham's hand with a broad smile, and a moment later they were on the dock, and their bags were being loaded into a small van, while Liane and Armand and the girls climbed into a large, comfortable Citroën, and Mademoiselle and Jacques Perrier got into the front seat with the chauffeur. And as the car pulled away, and the driver started the van's motor, Liane saw an enormous black Duesenberg pull up and Nick Burnham begin to instruct the chauffeur. She turned for a second glance and he waved, and she waved back, and then she turned back to hear what Armand was saying.