Crossings (27 page)

s it turned out, it took them two days, not one, to meet the freighter, the
Deauville
. She had had to move farther out several days before to avoid detection, but the fishing boat from Toulon knew exactly where she was. They had been making this same trip all week, each time stopping on the way back to fish, so that they would have something to show for their absences if they were stopped. But the Germans were too busy enjoying France, and the Resistance had not gotten under way in full yet. There were cafés and girls and boulevards to catch their eyes on the shore. And all the while the
Deauville
sat, collecting passengers that had been arriving on board all week. She had left her cargo in North Africa, and she was traveling light, with the exception of the sixty passengers occupying the fifteen cabins on board, mostly Americans, and two French Jews, a dozen Englishmen who had been living in the South of France, and some Canadians. It was generally an amazing assortment of people, anxious to be out of France and relieved to be on the ship.

They huddled quietly on the deck all day, and sat in the overcrowded dining room at night with the crew, waiting for the ship to set sail. The captain had said that they would sail out quietly, late that night, though he was still expecting a woman and two little girls, the family of a French diplomat. And when Liane and the two girls boarded the ship, they discovered that they were the only females on board, but Liane was too numb and exhausted to care. The girls had cried for two days for their papa, and all three of them reeked of fish from the little fishing boat. Elisabeth had been sick the whole way, and all Liane could think about was Armand. It was a nightmarish beginning to their return to the States, but they had begun the journey now and they had to persevere. She owed it to Armand to keep the girls happy until they were all together again, but every time she thought of it, she had to fight back tears of her own. She almost fell into the arms of the crewmen on the
Deauville
, who half carried Liane and the girls to their room. Both the girls were sunburned and chilled, and Liane herself felt too exhausted to walk another foot. They closed the door and fell onto the bunks, and all three of them fell asleep. Liane didn't wake again until late that night when she felt the gentle pitching of the ship. She looked out the porthole into the night, and she realized that they had set sail. She wondered if a U-boat would catch them before they reached the States, but it was too late to turn back now, and Armand would never have let her anyway. They were going home. She went quietly back to her bunk, after tucking the girls in as they slept, and then went back to sleep until the dawn.

When she got up, she took a shower in the bathroom they shared with approximately fifteen men. There were four bathrooms for the use of the fifteen cabins on the ship, and the lines were long, but not yet at that hour of the day, and she returned to the cabin, feeling refreshed and hungry for the first time in three days.

“Madame?”
There was a soft knock at the door and an unfamiliar voice, and she opened it to see a swarthy-looking sailor of the French merchant marine, holding out a steaming mug to her.
“Du café?”

“Merci.”
She took a careful sip of the steaming brew after she had sat down again, and was touched at the thoughtfulness. As the only woman on board, she was liable to earn courtesies that no one else would share. But that didn't seem quite fair to her. They were all in the same boat. She grinned to herself at the bad joke. And as much as she didn't want to leave France and Armand, she was grateful for the escape. She vowed to herself to do anything she could to help on the ship, but when she and the girls stepped into the dining room, she saw that everything was very much under control. Breakfast was being served in shifts to the passengers on board, and people were quick to eat and give up their seats. The atmosphere was one of camaraderie and helpfulness, and she was aware of no impertinent stares. A number of men spoke kindly to the girls. Most of them were Americans who, for one reason or another, hadn't been able to get home since the outbreak of the war. She discovered quickly that at least a dozen or so of the men were journalists, the two Canadians were doctors, and the rest were for the most part businessmen who for whatever reason had held on in France until the end. There was much talk of Hitler now, and the fall of France, how easily Paris had opened up its doors … De Gaulle's recent speech … Churchill … The room was ablaze with interpretations of the news, bits of gossip were passed around, and then suddenly she saw a familiar form across the room. She couldn't believe it could be him. He was a tall blond man in sailor's garb that didn't seem to fit quite right, his shoulders were straining at the seams, and when she looked down, she saw that the pants were more than a little short. But when he turned to help himself to more coffee from the pot, their eyes met, almost as though he sensed her glance, and he stared at her in equal disbelief until his face broke into a broad smile, and he abandoned his chair at once and came to shake her hand and hug the girls.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nick Burnham stared down at Liane with a broad grin and then glanced down at the pants he wore. “My luggage fell overboard when I arrived. Damn, it's good to see you all. Where's Armand?” He looked around and then realized the answer, as Liane's face fell.

Her voice was husky as she answered. “He stayed in France.”

“Will he be going to North Africa?” He lowered his voice, but she only shook her head. She didn't have the heart to tell him that he was staying in Paris with Pétain.

She turned her eyes up to Nick's then and shook her head. “Isn't it amazing, Nick? A year ago we were all on the
Normandie
. And now look at us.” She smiled at his pants, and they both looked sadly around the room. “France has fallen into German hands … we're all running for our lives … who would have believed …” And then she looked at Nick again. “I thought you left long ago.”

“I wasn't that smart. Things were so quiet then, I decided to stick around for another month, and then all hell broke loose, and it was too late to get out. I could have gone back on the
Queen Mary
in March. But instead”—he grinned— “well, at least we'll get home. Not as elegantly as we arrived perhaps, but what the hell.”

“What news do you have of John?”

“He's fine. I'm going home to rescue him. He's been with his grandmother since he left.” Something unhappy crossed Nick's eyes, they all had such complicated lives, such painful histories they brought along. And then he gestured to three empty seats. “Why don't you three sit down and eat. I'll catch you later and we can talk.”

“No tennis courts this time?” She grinned. It was so strange to see him here, and a relief too. Suddenly the sorrow of fleeing the war was reduced to an absurd adventure. And she could see the same thoughts in his eyes too.

“It's crazy, isn't it? Crazier yet to see you here.” He had been fascinated during the entire day before to learn of how the others had heard of the ship, but somehow, remarkably, they had. It was indeed an interesting assortment on board. Crockett Shipping, via Liane, Burnham Steel, thanks to him, two Harvard professors who had finished a stint at Cambridge the month before and were anxious to get out … the tales went on and on. He went back to his seat to grab his coffee cup, and came back to Liane's table to chat for a moment before he moved on. They would have plenty of time to talk on the trip.

They had no idea how long it would take them to get to New York. It depended on how far they had to wander off course to avoid any dangers the captain feared. Nick had been told the captain's instincts were good—he was sure to keep them out of danger—and he passed the cheering information on to Liane, on the upper deck later on.

“So, old friend, how have you been?” The girls were playing with their dolls in the sun, and Liane sat propped against a ladder, while Nick leaned against a rail. “We seem to meet in the oddest spots. …”

His thoughts drifted back to the year before as he glanced out to sea and then back at Liane. “Do you realize that the name of my suite on the
Normandie
was the Deauville suite? It must have been prophetic.” He shook his head.

“And do you remember how we talked about the war, as though it would never come?”

“Armand thought it would. I was the fool then.” He shrugged. “And you told me that one of these days I'd have to make a choice about who I sold my contracts to. And you were right.”

“You made the right choices in the end.” It made her think of Armand again. How could she explain to anyone that he was now working for Pétain?

He looked intently at Liane then. “Doesn't all of that seem terribly unreal? I don't know … I feel like I've been on another planet for the past year.”

She nodded, feeling the same way. “We've all been so engrossed in what's happening here.”

“It's going to be very strange to go back, you know. They aren't going to want to hear about what we know, what we've seen.”

“Do you think that's true?” That seemed shocking to her now. The war in Europe was so real. How could the United States go on ignoring that, yet she recognized that in the States everyone felt that they were safe, Europe was so far away. She shook her head. “I suppose it is.”

“Where are you and the girls going to live, Liane?”

It was a question she had debated at great length with Armand on the way to Toulon. He wanted her to go back to San Francisco—to her uncle George, but she was adamant about that. Washington felt more like home. “Back to Washington. We have friends there. The girls can go back to their old school.” She was going to stay at the Shoreham hotel if she could get a room, and then she'd try to rent some sort of furnished house in Georgetown, where they could wait out the war. She wasn't even sure she was going to tell her uncle that she was back in the States at first but undoubtedly he would find out from her bank, and she knew that she owed it to him to tell him. But she had never felt close to the man, and she didn't want him pressing her to come home. The only home she had recognized for years was wherever she was living with Armand.

Liane glanced at Nick now, thinking of his life. There had been several questions she'd been wondering about. “You're going back to New York, to pick up the threads of your old life?” It was the only way she could think of to ask him about his wife. And he nodded slowly.

“I'm going to bring Johnny back from Boston.” And then he looked at Liane with honest eyes. He had been honest with her before, and there was no reason not to be now. “I don't really know what Hillary's been up to since she left. I wrote to her, I cabled her a number of times. But ever since her cable in September, telling me that they had arrived safely in New York, I haven't heard a word. I suspect she's seen damn little of Johnny.” The green eyes began to burn, and he wanted to tell her now that he had seen Philip Markham's name on the manifest of the
Aquitania
. He had told no one since it had happened.

“Does he sound all right in his letters?” She was asking about John and her eyes reached deep into Nick's as she did. She was wondering all of the same things that he was. Most of all, why had Hillary left the boy in Boston?

“I think so. But he sounds lonely.”

Liane smiled gently. “I'm sure he misses you very much.” She had already seen a year before that he was a wonderful father.

“I miss him too.” His eyes softened as he thought of his son. “I took him to Deauville before the war broke out, and we had such a good time. …” They both fell silent then. It seemed a thousand years ago, and it brought their minds back to the occupation of Paris. It was still difficult to believe that Paris was now in the hands of the Germans and it made Liane think of Armand and the difficult position he would be in. She was so frightened for him, and there was no one she could tell. No one. Not even Nick. He watched her face, and he assumed that he knew what she was thinking. It was inevitably about Armand. He touched her arm gently as she stared out to sea. “He'll be all right, Liane. He's a wise and capable man.” She nodded and said nothing. The question was if he was wise enough to outsmart the Germans. “You know, when I put Johnny on that damn ship last year, I thought I was going to pass out on the dock, just thinking about them crossing with German U-boats in the waters. But they got on just fine, and God knows the waters were dangerous even then.” He looked pointedly at Liane. “Even surrounded by Germans, Armand will be all right. He's been a diplomat all his life. It will serve him well now, no matter what.” No matter what … Her mind echoed his words…. If he only knew….

She looked sadly at Nick and tears began to fill her eyes. “I wanted to stay with him.”

“I'm sure you did. But you were wiser to leave.”

“I had no choice. Armand insisted. And he said that I couldn't endanger the girls—” Her voice choked and she couldn't go on. She turned away so he wouldn't see her cry, but suddenly she felt him holding her in a warm, brotherly hug, and she stood there on the deck, crying in his arms. It was not an unusual sight now, even among the men. They had all suffered losses and terrible separations in leaving Europe. And it suddenly didn't even seem strange to be crying in Nick's arms, this man whose path had crossed hers from time to time, and whom she scarcely knew, and yet they both felt they knew each other well. They had always met at peculiar times, in circumstances that allowed them both to be surprisingly open. Or maybe that was just the way he was. But she didn't think about it now. She just stood there, grateful for his warmth and compassion. He let her cry for a while and then he patted her back with a gentle hand.