Danielle Steel - Crossings

“It's posted on the bulletin board downstairs.”

“Sir.” Nick was amused. Fortunately his sense of humor hadn't left him yet. The private blushed.

“I'm sorry, sir.”

“Where are you from?”

“New Orleans.”

“How do you like it here?”

“I don't know, sir. I haven't been out yet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two weeks. I was in boot camp in Mississippi before that.”

“That must have been fun.” They exchanged a smile of camaraderie. “Anyway, Private, since you won't agree to wear my uniform tonight, I'd better get my ass in gear and get dressed.” Nick was one of the lucky few with a shower adjoining his room. He cleaned up from his trip, put on his dress uniform, and twenty minutes later he was downstairs, looking at the bulletin board. The address was clearly marked. Mrs. Fordham MacKenzie, on Jackson Street. He had no idea how to get there. He hadn't been in San Francisco in years, and he decided to call a cab. Three other officers had received the same “invitation” as he, and they shared the ride and stepped out in front of an impressive home with an iron gate and formal gardens. One of the officers whistled softly in his teeth as Nick paid the cab, and they stepped up to the iron gate to ring the bell. A butler led the way and Nick found himself wondering how many of these soirees Mrs. MacKenzie gave. The war had brought a host of new men to town. It was kind of her to throw her home open to the servicemen. Christmas was only two days away.

He had given Johnny his gifts before he left, but it certainly would be a lonely Christmas for them both. Nothing was the same this year. And now he was nearly three thousand miles away on the West Coast, walking down some strange woman's hall into a living room filled with uniforms and women in cocktail clothes as waiters passed trays of champagne. It was all a bit like a strange dream as he looked out at the Golden Gate, and then as his eyes strayed back he saw her there, standing quietly in a corner, holding a glass, speaking to a woman in a dark-red dress. And as he looked at her she turned her head, and their eyes met, as time stopped for him and the room spun for her. And slowly he walked toward her and she heard the voice she had remembered only in dreams for a year and a half. The voice was a caress and the crowds around them seemed to disappear as he spoke a single word. “Liane …” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with disbelief and amazement as he smiled slowly at her.

s that really you?” Nick looked deep into Liane's eyes, and at the expression on his face, the woman in the red dress who'd been talking to Liane disappeared quietly. Liane smiled at him, not sure what to say.

“I'm not sure.”

“I'm dreaming this.” She smiled in answer. “Aren't I?”

“Could be, Major. How have you been?” Her smile was warm but there was no invitation in her words. “It's been a long time.”

“What are you doing here?” He couldn't take his eyes off her face.

“I live here now. We've been here since last year.” He searched her eyes for all the things he ached to know, but there was nothing written there. They were as big and beautiful as before, but they were veiled now. She had seen pain and loss and it showed, and he wondered instantly about Armand, but when he looked, the plain gold band was still in place.

“I thought you were in Washington.”

“That didn't work out.” Her eyes met his, but she didn't say more, and then slowly he saw the old, familiar smile. He had dreamed of it for almost two years. He had seen that smile as she had lain in his arms. “It's good to see you, Nick.”

“Is it?” He wasn't so sure. She looked uncertain, almost frightened.

“Of course it is. How long have you been in town?”

“Just today. And what the hell are you doing here?” This didn't seem her kind of place, a cocktail party to meet military men. If she was wearing her wedding band, she couldn't be on the hunt, and that wasn't her style. Not the girl he'd left on the train in New York seventeen months before, unless everything had changed. Maybe her solitude had got to her.

“I work for the Red Cross. This is a command performance for us.”

He bent low and whispered in her ear. “It is for me too.”

She laughed at that, and then something gentle touched her face. She hadn't wanted to ask him at first, but she decided to now. “How's John?”

Nick took a quick breath and looked her. “He's fine. I don't know if you read about the trial out here, but Hillary and I got divorced about a year ago, and I fought her for custody and lost a few weeks ago. That was pretty rough on him.” And he glanced at his uniform. “And so was this.”

“It must have been rough on you too.” Her voice was smooth as silk, and she couldn't take her eyes from his, but she also knew that she had to keep the walls up. She could never let them down again. Especially not for him. She had done that once, and she was still fighting to keep that door closed. “And yes, I did read about the trial.” She spoke in the gentle voice he loved. “My heart ached for you.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “The judge thought Johnny would be better off with her, since she's married now. And you know what that bastard did?” His face went taut as he told her about Markham and the gun. “I was going to file an appeal, but then Pearl Harbor was hit. I'll try again when I go back, by then she may be ready to give him up. My lawyer thinks she just wanted to get back at me.”

“For what?” Liane looked stunned. Had he told her about them?

“I guess for never loving me, crazy as that sounds. In her eyes, I kept her a prisoner for all those years.”

Liane remembered instantly the incident on the ship, as did he. “You were far more the prisoner than she.”

He nodded. “Well, that's all over now, for whatever it was worth. I got Johnny out of it, so I can't complain. Now all I have to do is get him back.”

“You will.” Her voice was quiet and strong. She was remembering his own words to her: “Strong people cannot be defeated.”

“I hope you're right.” He finished his champagne and looked at her. She was even prettier than she'd been before, but there was something quieter about her now, and more severe. The rigors she forced on herself had taken their toll, and yet her face was as lovely as it had always been, her eyes seemed even more blue, and her hair was wound into a smooth bun. She looked very chic, he decided, and smiled at his own thoughts. “Where are you living here?”

“With my uncle George.”

“And the girls?”

“They're fine.” And then, with lowered eyes, “They still remember you.” And with that two more men in uniform suddenly joined the group, and a woman from the Red Cross, and a little while later Liane left. She didn't see Nick to say good-bye and she decided it was just as well. She drove home in the car she had borrowed from George and walked slowly inside. It had been strange to see Nick again. It opened wounds she'd hoped had healed. But there was nothing she could do about that. She had always wondered if they would meet again one day, and they had. Everything had changed for him since they had last met, but nothing had changed for her. Armand was still struggling to survive in France, and she was waiting for him here.

“Did you have a good time?” George was waiting for her when she got back.

“Very nice, thanks.” But she didn't look as though she had as she took off her coat.