Crossings (17 page)

“Eventually he'll know anyway, if that's what she is.”

He nodded. In a way she was right. But he also knew that his chances of getting custody of Johnny were very slim. She had unlimited family money to back her up, and he didn't know of any man who had defeated his wife in court on a custody case. He could never win. “I think, my friend, that I have to make do with what I've got. At least for the next year, we'll have a change of scene. I'm going to have a lot to do over here.”

“We all will.” Liane stared out into the night and then back at him. “Looking out at this, it's hard to believe that there's a troubled world out there.” She was curious about what she would find in France, if Armand was right that in a very short time there would be a war. “What will you do if the war comes, Nick? Go back to the States?”

“I guess I would. I might stay over here for a while, to finish my work, if I could. But I still don't believe we'll have to worry about that this year.” He knew that the Germans were getting prepared, he could tell from the volume of his work, but he also knew that they weren't ready yet. “Hopefully we'll all get home in time. And America will probably never get into a war over there. At least that's what Roosevelt says.”

“Armand says that Roosevelt doesn't mean what he says.” She was being very honest with him. “He says he's been preparing the country for war for several years.”

“I think he's just playing it safe. And it's good for the economy. It keeps people at work.”

She spoke without accusation, but with truth. “That must also be good for you.” And she was right. His steel contracts had boomed. But he leveled his eyes into hers.

“It's also good for you.” He knew only too well how successful Crockett Shipping had been, particularly in recent years. And she knew exactly what he meant, but she shook her head.

“I don't feel a part of that anymore.” Not since her uncle George had filled her father's shoes. Emotionally, she had severed her ties with that life a long time before.

“But you are a part of it, Liane.” He remembered now that she had been her father's only heir, and he marveled at how little it showed, unlike Hillary, who flaunted her expensive dresses and her furs and her jewels. There was something very quiet about Liane. If one had not been aware of her maiden name, one would never have known who or what she was. “You have a responsibility too.”

“To whom?” She looked troubled at his words.

“One day, if there is a war, your ships will carry troops. They'll go into battle, men will die.”

“There's nothing we can do to stop that.”

Nick smiled sadly at her. “Unfortunately, you're right. I think about it sometimes, about how people use our steel to build their war machines. But what can I do to change that? Not much. Nothing, in fact.”

“But you trade with the Germans, don't you?”

He hesitated, but not for long. “I do. I'll be in Berlin in three weeks. But I also do business with Italy and Belgium and England and France. It's a big industry, Liane, and industries have no heart.”

“Men do.” She looked directly at him, as though she expected something more.

“It's not as simple as that.”

“That's what Armand says.”

“He's right.”

She didn't answer him for a time, he had awoken something in her that she hadn't thought of in a long time, her responsibility to her father's shipping line. She put her dividends in the bank, put away the checks that came in, but she never thought anymore about where the ships went or what they did. It made her feel very helpless now. She couldn't begin to imagine questioning her uncle George. He would have been outraged at the thought, but if her father was still alive, she would have known more. “Did you ever meet my father, Nick?”

“No. We had someone else on the West Coast when he was alive. I was on Wall Street burning the midnight oil in those days.”

“He was a very special man.” It was easy for him to believe as he looked across the rail at Liane, and without thinking about it, he reached out and took her hand in his.

“You're very special too.”

“No, I'm not.” She left her hand in his, it was warm and powerful and strong, different from Armand's long, aristocratic fingers, lined by age since they had first held hers.

“You don't know how good you are, it's part of what's special about you. And you don't know how wise or how strong. You helped me a lot tonight. I'm growing tired of it all, and standing here with you, suddenly life doesn't seem quite so bad.”

“It's not. And it'll be better for you again one day.”

“Why do you think that?” He was still holding her hand and she smiled at him. He was a beautiful man, in the flower of his finest years, and she hated to see him waste them with a wife like his, but she felt good things about this man.

“I believe in justice, that's all.”

“Justice?” He looked amused.

“I think that difficult things happen in one's life in order to make one strong, but in the end decent people are rewarded with good people at their sides, and good things happen to them.”

“You really believe that?” He seemed surprised.

“I do.”

“I'm a little more cynical than that.” So was Armand, and maybe most men were, but she still believed in things happening fairly in life, at least most of the time. It still didn't explain early deaths or children who were hurt or died, and yet most of the time she believed that life doled out the right rewards. Hillary would get hers. And Nick would too. “But I hope you're right, my friend.” She liked what he had just said, it was precisely what she felt for him. They had become friends. “I hope we see you in Paris some time, if you and Armand aren't all swallowed up by diplomatic life.”

“And you by your own steel deals.” She smiled at him and finally withdrew her hand from his. “They say that things happen quickly on ships, friendships, romances, and that back on land everyone becomes normal again and forgets.” She looked into his eyes and he slowly shook his head.

“I won't forget you. If you ever need a friend, call. Burnham Steel is in the Paris book. Over here we're called Burnham
Compagnie.”
She liked the idea of knowing where he would be, and yet she couldn't imagine a call like that. Her life with Armand was very complete. Nick was far more likely to need them.

They stood quietly then for a time, looking out to sea, and at last Liane looked at her watch with a sigh and then at Nick. “My husband works too hard, I'm afraid. I was going to wait up for him, but I think I ought to get to bed. Tomorrow is the last day on the ship, and I'll have a lot of packing to do.” They had brought so much, but there had been so many gala events, the theater, the captain's dinners, she had to dress for lunch and then again for tea every day. Even keeping to their rooms as much as they had, she had worn a great many clothes. It was easier for the men, spending every evening in white tie and tails. “It's funny, we've only been on the ship for ten nights, but it feels more like ten weeks.”

He smiled. “It does to me too.” But he was anxious to arrive now. He'd had enough. And he was glad that they only had one more day. And then he had a thought as he looked at Liane. “Can I interest you in another tennis match tomorrow?”

“I'd like that, unless Armand is free.” And she was hoping that he would be. She liked Nick, but she was desperately hungry for some time with her husband.

“Of course. I'll look for you tomorrow morning, and you can let me know then.”

“Thank you, Nick.” She looked at him for a long time, and then gently touched his arm. “Everything will be all right, you know. You'll see.”

He only smiled in answer and waved as she left. “Good night.” She was an unusual woman, he thought to himself. He only wished he had met her ten or twelve years before, but he had been only twenty-six then. She was the kind of woman who understood older men, and he assumed that her father had been responsible for that. She would never have been interested in him. Nor would he. What he had wanted ten years before was excitement and flash, women who took his breath away and danced all night. He couldn't imagine Liane doing that. She was too solid, too sedate, too wise … and yet, he thought to himself, he would have liked to see her running barefoot through a garden in the middle of the night… or in a swimming pool, or with her hair loose on a beach … she filled him with a sense of quiet, happy beauty. And as he returned to his new studio room, adjoining the Deauville suite, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he felt peace.

“
here were you last night?” Hillary eyed him through a haze of champagne from the night before, and she looked none too pleased as he entered their suite from the front door and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“In my room.”

“And where's that?”

“Next door.”

“That's cute. I saw that you moved your things.”

“And cried all night, I suppose.” They were words with a slight sting as he glanced at the ship's newspaper and buttered a croissant.

“I don't know why the hell you moved out.”

“Oh, don't you?” He sounded strangely calm, and she glared at him from where she sat.

“Is this a new trend for us, separate rooms? Or is this just because you were angry at me last night?”

“Does it matter, Hil?” He looked up from the paper and set it down. “I think things will work out better like this. You looked as though you were having a good time last night. I didn't want to spoil your fun.”

“Or your own? Are you playing tennis again today, Nick?” Her voice was all innocence at first, but he could see from the look in her eyes that there was more to come. “How's your little friend, the ambassador's wife?” She was pleased to see him bridle at this. “I assume that you've been playing more than tennis with her. A little shipboard romance perhaps?” Her voice oozed the evil spirit with which she thought, and pointed once again to her own guilt.

“That's more your style than mine.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“Then you don't know me very well. Or her. But I suppose you apply your standards to the rest of the world. Fortunately, they don't apply.”

“Oh, dear Saint Nick. Is your little friend sweet and pure?” She laughed out loud and crossed the room. “I doubt that. She looks like a whore to me.”

Nick stood up and there was menace in his eyes. “Don't speak that way about people you don't know. You're the only whore on this ship, from what I can see, and if that suits you, that's fine, but don't waste your time pointing a finger at anyone else. It doesn't apply to anyone but you, and just be damn glad that people all over this ship aren't calling you a whore.”

“They wouldn't dare.”

“At the rate you're going, one of these days they will.”

“And wouldn't you love that.” She stood watching him, baffled at what she saw in his eyes. Suddenly he didn't seem to care anymore. He wasn't angry, he wasn't sad, he was numb. And the only thing that had made him angry was what she had said about Liane.

“I'm not sure I care what people say about you anymore. I know the truth. What does it matter after that?”

“Have you forgotten that I'm your wife? What I do reflects on you.”

“Is that some kind of a threat?”

“No, it's the truth.”

“It hasn't stopped you before, and I doubt if it'll stop you now. Everyone in Boston and New York has had their eyes open about you for years. The only difference is that now I'm willing to face it too.”

“And let me do what I want?” She looked stunned.

“As long as you're reasonably discreet. For you, that ought to be something new.”

“You son of a bitch …” But as she rushed toward him, he grabbed her arm, and she was startled by the fierce grip. He was a powerful man, and he was no longer afraid to use his strength on her.

“Don't waste your time, Hil.” It was all wasted on him now. Both her anger and her charm. And as they stood there in the dining room of their suite, she began to cry.

“You hate me, don't you?”

He stood looking down at her and shook his head, surprised at how little he felt for her now. Only a few days before there had still been hope. But yesterday she had ended it for him. For good, he thought. And it was just as well for him.