Danielle Steel - Crossings

Nick left the car and walked into the house like a man facing a guillotine. Ben walked slowly behind, not sure if he should leave or stay, and when he saw the child's face, he wished that he had left. There was more grief there than he ever wanted to see anywhere.

“Did we win?” Everything within the small boy strained and Nick shook his head.

“No, tiger. We lost.” And without another word the boy began to cry, and Nick pulled him into his arms as Ben turned away, tears running down his face too, hating himself for what he hadn't been able to do. But all he could think of now were the child's sobs.

“I won't go, Dad. I won't!” He looked up at him defiantly. “I'll run away.”

“No, you won't. You'll be a man and do what the court says, and we'll see each other every weekend.”

“I don't want to see you on weekends. I want to see you every day.”

“Well, we'll do the best we can. And Ben says we can try again. We can appeal. It'll take time, but we might win next time.”

“No, we won't.” The child was bereft. “And I don't want to live with them.”

“There's nothing we can do right now. We have to wait a little while. Look, I'll call you every day. You can call me any time you want …” But his eyes were too full and his voice was shaking too. He simply held the boy next to him and wished that things had turned out differently. Life was so unfair. He loved the boy so much and he was all he had. But there was no point dwelling on that. He had to help the child, and it was difficult for them both. “Come on, tiger. Let's go pack.”

“Now?” The child looked shocked. “When do I have to go?”

Nick swallowed hard. “At six o'clock. The judge thought we should get it over with right away. So that's the way it is, my friend.” He held open the door, and Johnny stared at him. The boy looked as though he were in shock, but no more so than Nick. It had been the worst day of his life, and John's. And then, as he dragged his feet to the door, with tears running down his face, he looked up at Nick again.

“Will you call me every night?”

He nodded, fighting back tears with a tremulous smile. “I will.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.” He held up a hand and then Johnny threw himself into his arms again.

They got upstairs and as the maids watched they packed three bags full of toys and clothes. Nick wanted to do it himself. When he was finished, he stood up and looked around. “That ought to do. You can leave the rest here for when you come to stay.”

“You think she'll let me do that?”

“Sure she will.”

The doorbell rang at exactly six o'clock and Hillary stood outside. “May I come in?” She wore a sickly sweet smile and Nick hated her more than he ever had before. “Is Johnny packed?” She was putting salt in all the wounds, and he looked into her eyes. They were still beautiful and black, but there was no one there.

“You must be very proud of yourself.”

“The judge was a wise man.”

“He's an old fool.” He only hoped that Ben was right and she'd tire of the child soon. Johnny came and stood beside him then and looked at his mother through his tears.

“Ready, love?”

He shook his head and clutched at Nick. And she looked into Nick's eyes.

“Is he packed?”

“Yes.” He pointed to the bags in the hall. “And I want to discuss visitation with you.”

“Of course.” She was prepared to be magnanimous now. Nick could see him whenever he wanted. She'd made her point. The boy was hers. Let him say what he wanted about her past, it hadn't lost her custody of John. And even Philip's mother had called to congratulate them that afternoon. “I wanted to ask you something too.”

“What?” He threw the word at her like a rock.

“Could we step inside?” He had never invited her to come in.

“Why?”

“I'd like to speak to you alone.”

“There's no need for that.”

“I think there is.” Her eyes bore into Nick's, and he moved Johnny gently aside and strode into his library. She was quick to follow him in.

“I want him this weekend, if that's all right with you.”

“I'll check and let you know. I'm not sure of our plans.”

His hands itched to slap her face. “Call me tonight. The child's going to need time to adjust to all this. It'll do him good to come back here soon.”

“How do I know you won't run off with him?”

“I won't do that to him.” And she knew Nick well enough to know it was true. “What did you want to talk to me about?” His eyes were hard.

“My check.”

“What check?”

“The child support. Since Johnny's coming with me now, I assume that begins today.” He stared at her in disbelief, and then without a word he yanked open a drawer, dropped a checkbook on the desk, and bent to scrawl her name and his and the amount, and then handed it to her with a shaking hand.

“You make me sick.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him and left the room and he followed her back to the front hall, where Johnny stood beside his bags. There was no avoiding it. The end had come. The war was lost. Nick gave him a powerful hug and rang for the elevator to take him down as Johnny cried. The bags were loaded one by one, and Hillary firmly took Johnny's hand. They stepped inside, and as the child bent his head and cried, the doors closed and they disappeared and Nick stood in the doorway, all alone, his head bent against the wall as he cried.

ohnny moved in with his mother on the night of December 3. Liane read the results of the trial with grief for Nick three days later. She had feared it would come to that. It was rare for a father to win custody, yet like him, she had hoped and prayed. That morning, she folded the newspaper with an air of despair as her uncle looked at her.

“What's wrong?” He had never seen her look quite like that before, and it was a moment before she spoke. He wondered if something awful had happened in France, but he hadn't noticed it when he read the paper himself, and at last she spoke.

“Something rotten just happened to a friend of mine.” “Anyone I know?” She shook her head. He had probably read all about the trial, but she had never told him that she knew Nick Burnham. She felt a lead weight on her heart as she imagined him handing over the child. She stood up then. She had work to do. But all that day thoughts of him preyed on her mind, and this time when she picked up the phone, she didn't set it down again. She asked New York information for Burnham Steel, and when the operator dialed and the phone was answered at the other end, she asked for Nick. But they told her that he was away. She did not leave her name, and she wondered where he'd gone to lick his wounds. She even wondered if in desperation he might call her, but he had no way of knowing she was on the West Coast. Their ties to each other had long since been cut, and it was just as well. She knew that she could never have gone on with the affair without tormenting herself about Armand, yet in Nick's case precisely what she had wanted to avoid had happened anyway. He had lost custody of his son. And now he had nothing at all. And then she smiled at herself, and realized how absurd she was. They hadn't seen each other in seventeen months and he'd been divorced for nearly a year. He probably had a charming lady friend by now, perhaps that was why he'd gotten divorced. But if he did, she hoped that the woman was kind and put balm on his wounds now, if one could. She knew how desperately he would feel the loss of his only child to a woman he hated.