Danielle Steel - Crossings

“And we have to do everything we can to help Papa.”

“Will he go to be a soldier now?” Elisabeth had looked at her with enormous blue eyes and almost choked on her lunch as she stifled a sob, but Liane gently stroked her face as she shook her head.

“No, darling, Papa serves France in a different way.”

“Besides, he's too old.” Marie-Ange added matter-of-factly. Liane was surprised at the remark. She never thought of Armand as old, and she was surprised that her daughter was even aware of his age. He was so youthful and dynamic that his age seemed irrelevant to her, and Elisabeth was quick to his defense.

“Papa is not old!”

“He is too!” And before Liane could stop them the girls were fighting. In the end, she almost slapped them both, their nerves were all pulled taut, and after lunch she left them with Mademoiselle to play quietly in their room. She didn't want them in the garden. Who knew what would happen now. With France officially at war, there could have been anything from an air raid to a gas attack, and she wanted them in the house. She longed to talk to Armand, but she didn't dare disturb him.

“Daddy, does this mean we'll have to go back to New York?” Johnny was watching him with wide eyes. Nick had just told him the news, and the boy looked shocked. The idea of war was exciting, but his father had looked so grim when he told him the news that it didn't seem like fun now. “I don't want to go home yet.” He liked it in France. And then, suddenly, real panic. “If we go home, can I take my puppy?”

“Of course you can.” But he wasn't thinking about the dog as he sat in the child's room. He was thinking of the boy's mother. She had left Cannes two days before and she wasn't home yet. He left Johnny after a little while and went down to his study. He had come home from the office the moment he heard the news, to reassure his son, but now he wondered if he should go back. He called them and told them to call at home if they needed him. But he wanted to stay with John until they heard more news about what would happen. But there was little news to hear. Paris was strangely calm once war was declared. The exodus of the masses to the provinces continued, but on the whole Paris seemed very self-contained, and there was no panic.

And it was late on that afternoon of September 3, that Nick heard her. The front doorbell rang, there was a clatter of voices in the hall, and a moment later the library door swung open. It was Hillary, deeply tanned, her hair swinging loose, her eyes like enormous inlays of onyx and ivory in her face, and a straw hat, which matched her beige cotton sundress, swinging from her arm.

“For God's sake, Hil …” He had the same reaction one has when one recovers a lost child, the instant confusion as to whether to hug it or slap it.

“Hello, Nick.” Her face looked strangely calm, and there was obviously not going to be a warm greeting. He noticed instantly a large diamond bracelet on her arm, totally out of keeping with what she was wearing, but he said nothing about what was obviously a very expensive gift from her new lover. “How've you been?” Her voice was bright. He watched her, feeling as though he were moving underwater.

“Do you realize that France and England declared war on Germany today?”

“So I hear.” She seemed remarkably cool as she sat down on the couch and crossed one leg over the other.

“Where in hell have you been?” The conversation was surrealistic and disjointed.

“In Cannes.”

“I mean for the last two days. I called and they said you'd checked out.”

“I drove home with friends.”

“Philip Markham?” It was crazy. France had gone to war, and he was questioning his wife about her lover.

“Are we going to start that again? I thought those days were over.”

“That's not the point. This was no time to go careering around France, for chrissake.”

“You told me to come back, so I did.” Her eyes were openly hostile, and she hadn't yet asked for their son. As he watched her he realized that he had begun to hate her.

“You came back exactly ten days after I told you to come home at once.”

“I had plans I couldn't walk out on.”

“You have a son, and there's a war on.”

“So I'm back. Now what?”

He sighed deeply. He had thought about it all day, and it wasn't what he wanted, but he knew he had to do it. “I'm sending you both home, if we can get you home safely.”

“I think that's a fine idea.” For the first time since she'd entered the room, she smiled. Philip and she had discussed it before he got out of the car at the George V. He said he was taking her back to New York, whether Nick liked it or not. But Nick had just solved that problem. “When do we leave?”

“I'll have them research it at the office. It's not going to be easy now.”

“You should have thought about that in June.” She stood up nervously then and walked around the room, and then glanced at him over her shoulder. “I guess you were too busy doing business with the krauts to think of what danger you were putting us in. You realize, don't you, that you're part of all this. You're partly responsible for starting the war. Who knows how the Germans use the steel you sell them?” It was a horrifying thought and one that had been on Nick's mind for weeks now. The only consolation he had was that two days before, he had canceled all the rest of his German contracts. His company would take a loss of any size, he had announced, but he would no longer deal with Hitler's Reich. He was only sorry he hadn't done that before. And as he stood there staring at his wife, he remembered Liane's words on the ship … “The time to choose sides will come” … it had, and he had, but too late, he had to live now with the knowledge of what he had done, and how he may have indirectly helped them. It was small consolation that he had also helped to arm Britain and France and Poland. What hurt so much now was that he had also assisted the Germans. But more than that it hurt him that Hillary had driven the spear in even deeper into his side, and he looked at her now with open amazement.

“Why do you hate me so much, Hil?”

She appeared to think about it for a time and then shrugged. “I don't know. …” And then she looked at him sadly. “Maybe because you've always reminded me of what I'm not. You wanted something that I never had to give.” It was a truth he had only recently accepted. “You gave me too much. You stifled me from the first moment we met. You should have married some sweet little schoolteacher who would give you eight children.”

“That wasn't what I had in mind. I loved you.” He looked tired and sad. It was all over between them.

“But you don't anymore, do you?” It was a question she had to ask. She had to know. It was her final ticket to freedom.

Slowly he shook his head. “No, I don't. It's better for both of us like this.”

She nodded. “Yes, it is.” And then she took a deep breath and walked to the door. “I'll go see Johnny now. How soon do we leave?”

“As soon as I can arrange it.”

“Are you coming with us, Nick?” She watched him as she asked, and regretfully he shook his head.

“I can't for a while. But I'll come home as soon as I can.” She nodded and left the room, and he walked quietly to the window and stared out at the garden.

n the night of September 6, Armand and Liane shared a light dinner she warmed for him at midnight. All Armand wanted was some soup and a piece of bread. He was too exhausted to eat. He had had an endless day of frantic meetings. The news from Poland was worse than ever, though thankfully Warsaw had not yet fallen. According to reports, the situation was critical and the Poles were facing mass extermination. Liane watched Armand's face now and she saw the grief there, and the years, and the concern for his own country.