Crossings [calibre 2.37.1]

“What will you do now, Liane?” He took her hand and stroked her arm, his eyes locked in hers. He almost wished that they could turn the ship around and start again, but he knew it couldn't be done. They had to move ahead, no matter how painful it was. “What happens to you?”

“I wait for the war to end.”

“Alone?” He ached for her. She was a woman who needed a man, to give all the love she had to give, and there was so much love in him that he wanted to give her.

“Of course alone.” She smiled.

“Do you suppose …” An idea crossed his mind. It had occurred to him before in the past few days, but he hadn't known how she would react. But almost as soon as she heard his opening words, she shook her head.

“I couldn't do that. If we let this go on for a long time, we would never be able to let go. It's only been less than two weeks and I can barely let go now.” She could already feel her flesh and soul being torn from his and it was more than she could bear as she held on to his hand tightly. “In a year or two it would be worse, unbearable.” She sighed as she looked at him. “I think, my friend, that the time has come for us to be strong, as strong as you say we are. We have no choice. We fell in love. We've had two weeks. A miracle … a lifetime in itself that I will remember all my life, but there can't be more, for either one of us.” Her voice began to crack and tears slowly filled her eyes. “And when we leave the ship today, my love, we must look ahead, and never look back … except to remember how much we loved each other and to wish each other well. …”

There were tears in his eyes now too. “Could I call you from time to time?”

She shook her head no and then with a sob that flew from her like a small injured bird, she threw herself into his arms, and he held her that way for an hour, fighting back his own tears as he lay awash with hers. There was simply no other way to do what had to be done. The bond they'd formed had to be cut, and it would be as painful for them as it had been for the man they had watched in the dining room a week before, when the doctors had cut off his hand.

hey left each other in her room shortly after eight o'clock with a last kiss and eyes filled with pain. He sent the girls back down to her, and she helped them dress. The three of them looked like vagabonds now, as did everyone else on the ship, as they gathered on the deck. The captain told them that they would reach New York by noon. He had long since radioed ahead for help, ambulances to collect the wounded from the rescue at sea. Another three had died from infections of their burns, but the Deauville was returning victoriously with the surviving 190. There was a jubilant atmosphere on the deck as the ship moved ahead, and everyone spoke animatedly. The girls had made friends with all the original passengers aboard and the crew, and the walking wounded were on deck now too to watch the ship come in. Everyone was too excited to eat or drink, and one would have thought that they had been together for a year as they stood side by side at the rails, calling to each other by name. Only Nick and Liane seemed to stand slightly apart from it all. He wore a dazed look, and she hovered over the girls, and now and then their eyes met and held, and once when the girls went downstairs to get their dolls, he held her close for just an instant, and she left her hand in his. Neither could imagine how they would survive the rest of their lives, and yet they had no choice. As intransigently as the Deauville steamed ahead, so too were they being forced out of their dream and back to real life. The moments on the ship were about to end, and they had to go their separate ways, wondering if they would ever meet again. He wondered if one day, on another ship, he would run into Armand and Liane again. The war would be over, and the girls grown, and he would still be married to Hillary, for the sake of their son. For a second, but no more than that, he almost hated Johnny. But it wasn't the boy's fault, any more than it was Armand's. They wanted something they couldn't have, and now they had to face what they owed, to themselves as well as Armand and John. He knew Liane was right, but as they finally glimpsed the skyline of New York ahead, Nick knew that in all his life, he had never felt greater pain. He was barely able to keep his mind on his son. It was the only thing he had to cling to now. And yet for these last few moments all he wanted was to cling to Liane.

There were shouts of joy on the deck as the Statue of Liberty appeared, the sun glinting on her torch on a hot July day, and shortly after that, the tugboats came to the Deauville's side and they sailed into the harbor of New York. Fireboats joined the procession they made and shot streams of water in the air, and when they reached the dock, the ambulances were lined up in rows to take the wounded off the ship. Immigration proceedings had been waived, and the Deauville tied up at the dock as cameras flashed and journalists attempted to interview anyone they could.

Liane seemed to know almost each survivor by name, and a camera went off in her face as she bent to kiss one man on the cheek. The rest of the passengers seemed almost reluctant to leave, and they hugged each other and exchanged home addresses, slapped each other on the back, and congratulated the captain and the crew for getting them across, and then at last, one by one, they took their bags and left the ship. Liane and Nick and the girls were almost the last to leave, and when they finally reached the dock, they looked at each other in disbelief.

“Well, we're home.” Nick looked at Liane over the girls' heads, both of them were unable to rejoice, and all she wanted was to reach out to him.

“It doesn't feel like home yet.” She still had to get the girls to Grand Central Station, to take the train to Washington, D.C.

“It will.” He sounded calmer than he felt, and he insisted on hailing a cab for them, and accompanying them to the train, and suddenly, as they stepped inside, Liane began to laugh and Nick grinned. “We must look like a bunch of tramps.” He looked down at the borrowed clothes he still wore, and it was the first time he could remember that he hadn't left a ship by limousine.

They bantered back and forth with the girls on the way to Grand Central, and they reached it all too quickly. They walked inside to the tracks after Liane bought their tickets. She had thought about staying at a hotel in New York, but it was just as well for them to get back. If she had stayed in town, the temptation would have been too great to see Nick. He put their few belongings in their compartment, and then stood for a moment looking down at Liane as she and the girls looked up at him.

“Good-bye, Uncle Nick. Come to see us soon.” Elisabeth extended the invitation, echoed by Marie-Ange. They had abandoned “Mr. Burnham” long since on the ship.

“I will. And you take good care of your mother.” Liane could hear his voice grow hoarse with emotion, and once again she had to fight back tears. But they came anyway as she hugged him and he held her close and whispered softly in her hair. “Take care of yourself, my friend.” And then he backed away slowly, and with a last mute wave, he left them, and hurried on to the platform, brushing away the tears before the girls would see him again. He stood there waving, smiling broadly, as the three of them hung out the window, and then Liane forced the girls back inside as she blew him a kiss and he mouthed I love you, and he stood there for as long as she could see him, and with a terrible gulp of sorrow to stifle a sob, she pulled her head back inside.