Danielle Steel - Crossings

“That must have been quite a trip, with the rescue at sea.”

“It was.” His face sobered as he remembered the men that had been brought on board. “We worked like dogs to keep them alive. Liane was absolutely extraordinary. She worked in the surgery all night, and made rounds for days after that.”

“Everyone pitched in and did more than their share,” Liane was quick to interject.

“That's not true.” Nick looked her in the eye. “You did more than anyone aboard, and a lot of those men wouldn't have lived if it weren't for you.” She didn't answer and her uncle smiled.

“She's got a lot of guts, my niece. Sometimes not as much sense as I would like”—he smiled gently at her—“but more guts than most men I know.” The two men looked at her and she blushed at their words.

“Enough of that. What about you, Nick? When are you shipping out?” It sounded as though she were anxious for that, and in a way she was, not to send him into danger overseas, but to get herself out of a danger she still sensed when he was nearby.

“God only knows. They assigned me to a desk yesterday, which could mean anything. Six months, six weeks, six days. The orders come from Washington, and we just have to sit here and wait.”

“You could do worse, young man. It's a pleasant town.”

“Better than that.” He smiled at his host, and then glanced casually at Liane. They had heard nothing from the girls since they'd opened their gifts. They were entranced with them, and he only wished that Johnny could be here too. The butler announced dinner then, and they went into the enormous dining room. As they walked, George told Nick the history of various portraits on the walls.

“Liane lived here as a girl, you know. It was her father's house then.” And as George said the words, Nick remembered one of the first times they'd talked on the Normandie , when she had told him about her father, and Armand, and Odile, and even about her uncle George.

“It's a lovely house.”

“I like to watch my ships pass by.” He looked at the bay and then at Nick, with an embarrassed smile. “I suppose I'm old enough to admit that now. In my younger days, I might have pretended not to be proud of who I was.” He looked pointedly at Nick, and then turned their talk to steel. He knew a great deal about what Nick did and he was impressed at his having taken on the business so young, and from what he knew, Nick had done a fine job. “Who have you left in charge while you're gone?”

“Brett Williams. He was one of my father's men, and he ran things for me in the States while I was in France.” He thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Lord, that seems a hundred years ago. Who would have thought we'd be in the war by now?”

“I always did. Roosevelt did too. He's been getting us ready for years, not that he'd admit it publicly.” Liane and Nick exchanged a smile, remembering their crossing on the Normandie , when so many had insisted that there wouldn't be a war.

“I'm afraid I wasn't as prescient as you. I think I refused to see the handwriting on the wall.”

“Most people did, you weren't alone. But I have to say that I didn't expect the Japanese to come right down our throats.” Already watch points had been set up all along the coast, there were blackouts at night, and California waited to see if they would strike again. “You're lucky to be young enough to fight. I was too old for the first one too. But you'll set things to right again.”

“I hope so, sir.” The two men exchanged a smile and Liane looked away. Her uncle never softened that way toward Armand, but then again he thought that Armand was in collaboration with the Germans. It hurt her not to be able to defend him, and Nick still didn't know about his liaison with Pétain. Somehow that bit of ugly news had never reached him. She dreaded the day that he would hear, and wondered if he ever would. Perhaps it would be after the war and then it wouldn't matter anymore.

The meal was a very pleasant one, and Nick left them early to go back to his hotel. George was an elderly man, no matter how spry he was, and Nick didn't want to overstay. He thought that Liane looked tired too when he left. She thanked him for the bracelet and the girls kissed him before he left, in thanks for the gifts. As he stood up he looked into Liane's eyes.

“I hope it's a better Christmas for all of us next year.”

“I hope so too. And … thank you, Nick.”

“Take care of yourself. I'll give you a call, and maybe we can have lunch sometime.”

“That would be nice.” But she didn't sound overly enthused and after he left, she put the girls to bed and came down for a few more minutes with Uncle George. He was extremely impressed by Nick, and curious as to why she'd never mentioned him before.

“I don't know him that well. We've only met once or twice, on the ships, and at a couple of parties in France.”

“Does he know Armand?”

“Of course. He was traveling with his wife when we met too.”

“But he's divorced now, isn't he?” And then suddenly he remembered the scandal in the newspapers all year. He rarely read that kind of thing, but that had caught even his eye. “I know, it was some land of a shocking thing. She ran off with someone and they fought over the child.” He frowned. “Where's the boy now?”

“His mother won custody of him last month. I suspect that may be why he enlisted again.”

Her uncle nodded and lit a cigar. “Good man.”

And then she bid him good night, and left her uncle there with his own thoughts, and returned to her room with her own. She carefully took off the bracelet that he'd given her, and looked at it for a long time, and then she put it down resolutely and tried to forget it. But even as she lay in the dark, she knew where it was and knew what was written inside. Deauville. The single word that cast a thousand forbidden images into her mind.

ick called to thank her the next day, and to wish a Merry Christmas to all of them. Liane was determined to keep the conversation formal and brief, but she felt a tug at her heart when she heard his voice. She suspected that he was desperately lonely without his son, and spending Christmas so far from home. And she couldn't resist saying something more to him.

“Did you call Johnny today, Nick?”

“I did.” But his voice sagged on the words. Her guess had been correct. It was a rough day for him. “He cried like a little kid. It broke my heart. And his mother is leaving tomorrow for two weeks in Palm Beach without him.” He sighed. “Nothing has changed. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it now.”

“Maybe when you go back …” She echoed his own thoughts.

“I'll do something about it then. My lawyer said I'd have to wait a while anyway for an appeal. And at least I know he's safe with them. Markham is a complete fool, but all he's interested in is the good life. He won't do the boy any harm.” It wasn't what he had said before, but he had no choice now. He knew Hillary wouldn't shower love on him, but she would keep an eye on him. It was like leaving him with strangers for the duration of the war. “Brett Williams is going to keep an eye on things for me too. And if things get totally out of hand, he'll take control. That was about the best I could do before I left.”

She listened, aching for him, she knew how much he loved the child. It was half of why she had let him go. “Is that why you signed up, Nick?”

“More or less. I needed to get out. And there was a war to fight. It's almost a relief after the last year.”