Danielle Steel - Crossings

She glared at him. “Desertion. You said you'd come back at Christmas, and then in April.”

“And all this time, poor love, you've been pining for me. Funny, I never got an answer to any of my letters or cables.”

“I didn't think you could get mail—with the war on and all.” Her voice faltered and he laughed.

“Well, I'm home, so now it doesn't matter. Get your things and we'll leave. I'm sure Mrs. Markham is very tired of us.” He looked at the old woman and for the first time saw a smile.

“Actually, I'm quite amused. It's rather like an English drama. But more entertaining because it's real.”

“Quite.” Nick smiled pleasantly and turned to his wife. “For your information, although we can discuss it later, what has kept me in France all this time were matters of national defense. Major contracts that affect the economy of our country, and defense matters that involve us against the Germans, should they ever become a threat to us directly. You would have a very hard time convincing any court that you'd been deserted. I rather think they'd sympathize with the reasons for my staying so long.”

She was furious at his words, and Markham didn't look pleased either. “I thought you were selling to the Germans. You were last year.”

“I canceled all my contracts, at a considerable loss, but the President was very pleased when I told him.” Not to mention his gift to Poland, which had pleased the President too. Checkmate, friends. Nick smiled at his audience. “So, desertion won't do, and adultery doesn't apply.” He forced the image of Liane out of his head as he spoke, although thoughts of her hadn't left him for an instant since he had walked out of Grand Central Station. “I'm afraid that leaves us still married, with a son waiting to be picked up in Boston. Let's go, my friend, the party is over.” The three of them stood there for a long moment, with Mrs. Markham watching and she decided to step in at last.

“Please go and get your things, Hillary dear. As the man says, the party is over.” Hillary turned to her and then Philip, with a look of total frustration on her face, and then she turned to Nick.

“You can't do this, damn it. You can't disappear for almost a year and then expect to pick me up like a piece of furniture you left somewhere.” She made a move as though to slap him and he caught her arm in midair.

He spoke in a clear, even voice. “Not here, Hillary. It's not pretty.”

And with that she stormed out of the room, and returned twenty minutes later with two large bags and her maid and a French poodle. Philip had left the room instantly on her heels and Mrs. Markham had invited Nick to sit down and have a drink while they were gone. They both had double bourbons, while he apologized for keeping her from her guests.

“Not at all. Actually”—she smiled—”I've enjoyed it. And you're doing me a great favor. I've been very worried about Philip.” They sat in silence again for a time, with their drinks, and she glanced at Nick again. She had decided that she liked him. He had one hell of a lot of balls, and she had to admire him for tackling that bitch he was married to. “Tell me, Nick … may I call you Nick?”

“Of course.”

“How did you get saddled with that little baggage?”

“I fell madly in love with her when she was nineteen.” He sighed, thinking of Liane, and then looked back at Mrs. Markham. “She was very pretty at nineteen.”

“She still is, but she's a dangerous woman. No,” the old woman reconsidered with a shake of her head, “not a woman, a girl … she's a spoiled child.” Her eyes met Nick's over their drinks. “She'll destroy my son if she gets him.”

“I'm afraid she'll destroy mine.” He spoke in a quiet voice and she nodded, as though she were satisfied about something.

“You won't let her. Just don't let her destroy you. You need a very different kind of woman.” It was the oddest half hour he had spent in years, and he had to smile as he thought of Liane. She was indeed a very different woman. And he almost wanted to tell Mrs. Markham that he had found her … and lost her….

And at that moment Hillary walked back into the room with her bags, the dog, the maid, and Philip. Nick politely thanked Mrs. Markham then for a lovely time, and Hillary said good-bye to her and her son, with another fulminating look of rage directed at her husband.

“Don't think this is for good. I just don't want to make a scene while they're having a party.”

“That's a new touch. Very thoughtful of you.” He shook hands with Mrs. Markham, nodded at her son, and took Hillary's arm as they walked to the door while a butler carried the luggage. Moments later it was stowed in the car, and Nick turned on the ignition and headed for Boston.

“You won't get away with this, you know.” She was sitting at the extreme other side of the car, practically steaming as the dog panted in the heat, its nails painted the same color as Hillary's.

“And neither will you.” The charming, well-modulated tone he had used at the Markhams' was no longer evident. “And the sooner you get it into your head, Hillary, the better for all of us.” He pulled the car over to the side of the road once they had left the estate, and looked at her with eyes that told her he was not going to take any more nonsense from her. “We are married, we have a son, whom you neglect shamefully. But we are going to stay married. Period. And from now on, you are going to goddamn well behave, or I'm going to kick your ass for you in public.”

“You're threatening me!” she shrieked.

But Nick roared, “You're goddamn well right I am! You've practically deserted our son for the last year, from what I hear, and you're never going to do that again. Do you understand me? You're going to stay home for a change and be a decent mother. And if you and Markham are madly in love, then terrific. Nine years from now, when Johnny is eighteen, you can do anything you goddamn well please. I'll give you a divorce. I'll even pay for your wedding. But in the meantime, my dear, this is it.” He lowered his voice. “For the next nine years, like it or not, you are Mrs. Nicholas Burnham.” It sounded like a death sentence to her and she began to cry.

When they reached Hillary's mother's house, Nick got out of the car without another glance at her, rang the doorbell, and rushed inside the minute the door was opened. Johnny was already in his room, in his pajamas, and he looked like the most forlorn little child Nick had ever seen, until he looked up and gave one wild whoop as he saw his father.

“Daddy! Daddy! … You're back! … You came back! Mommy said you were never coming back.”

“She did what?” He looked at the child in horror.

“She said that you liked it better in Paris.”

“And did you believe that?” He sat down on the bed as his mother-in-law watched from the hall, with tears streaming slowly down her face.

“Not really.” The child spoke in a soft voice. “Not when I read your letters.”

“I was so lonely there without you, tiger. I almost cried every night. Don't ever think that I'm happy anywhere without you, 'cause I'm not, and I'm never going to leave you again. Never!”

“You promise?” There were tears in Johnny's eyes too, and Nick's.

“I swear. Let's shake on it.” They shook hands solemnly and Nick pulled Johnny into his arms again.

“Can I go home soon?”

“How soon can you get packed?”

Johnny's face was ablaze with joy. “You mean now? Back to our house in New York?”

“That's what I mean.” He looked apologetically over his shoulder at his mother-in-law. “I'm sorry to do this to you, but I can't live another day without him.”

“Or he without you,” she said sadly. “We did our best but—” She began to cry in earnest and Nick put his arms around Hillary's mother.