by Jan Moran
“I try to, Herb, believe me, I do.”
Nathan stood to pour another round of sherry. “Would you like to attend Heinrich’s trial?”
For a moment, she savored the thought of revenge, imagining the look in Heinrich’s eyes if he saw her in the court at Nuremberg. She relished the thought of filling his heart with terror—like the terror she’d known, the terror he’d thrust upon her. But even his execution could not settle the score. He might pay for his evil transgressions with his life, but it would not bring back her family. Danielle shook her head. No, the vengeance she’d once sworn could never be fully realized.
She pushed herself from the chair, drawing up straight and leveling her gaze. “Gentleman, thank you for your news. If I’m needed to testify against him, I will. But even if he is executed, and I have no doubt that he will be, he cannot compensate for the deeds he has done. Not on this earth.” She turned, walked to the door, then paused. Still, she thought, he has been stopped. Feeling a weary sense of satisfaction, Danielle glanced over her shoulder. “And I hope to God he hangs.”
She flung the door open, strode from the study and through the foyer, and threw open the front door. She gasped as a rush of cold air stung her face. And then she saw him.
Jon was climbing the front steps. “Danielle! What are you doing here?”
“Putting the past behind me, Jon, right where it belongs.” She pushed past him to the hotel car that waited for her.
“Does that include me?”
Now shaking inside, she kept her face concealed from him. “Absolutely.”
Jon grabbed her arm. “Danielle, please wait. I’ve been trying to reach you at the hotel.”
He sounded so earnest, so caring. She could feel her resolve melting. “It’s over, Jon,” she managed to say, but she heard her voice cracking.
“No, the past is over, but the future can be ours. I’m returning to Los Angles on the Voyager.” Jon’s eyes searched hers, and seemed to delve into the depths of her soul. “At your side, if you’ll have me. There’s nothing we can’t work out, Danielle.”
He pushed a hand through his hair in exasperation, and added forcefully, “It’s you I want, not an heir. I can’t live without you, and forgive me for being presumptuous, but I don’t believe you can live without me.”
Danielle took a step back, her head swirling. “Why, how dare you presume to—”
Jon caught her and smothered her mouth with kisses, and after a brief hesitation, Danielle flung her arms around his neck, relief drowning her sorrows.
38
After the snow storm, the day dawned with rare crystal brilliance, unusual for England in the winter. Danielle made her way to the docks with Jon and her family in two taxis laden with trunks stuffed with new clothes and teas and gifts for their friends in Los Angeles. When they arrived, Danielle stepped from the taxi and looked up at the gleaming refurbished ship.
“Just look at her,” Jon said, beaming. “Forty-thousand tons and even better than before.”
Danielle squeezed his hand. “Hurry now, you don’t want to be late for the ceremony. Look, there’s your father.”
A few minutes later, Jon and Nathan and the captain held a brief ceremony to recognize the crew and commend them on their efforts in returning the grand ship, the Newell-Grey Voyager, to civilian use, and on the crew’s wartime efforts in service to King and country. Danielle stood with her family and friends, and as she watched Jon lead and interact with the captain and crew, she felt her heart swell with pride and thought, I’m so proud of him. This is indeed the man I want at my side for the rest of my life.
Once the applause died down, travelers began to board, though Jon stayed back to talk with his father. After saying good-bye to Libby and Herb Leibowitz, and Nathan and Harriet Newell-Grey, Danielle and the others in her party boarded. Jon had reserved adjacent suites for all of them. Everyone was in high spirits, and while their trunks and valises were being delivered to their staterooms, it became clear the return voyage was going to be just as lively as the outward-bound voyage.
In Danielle’s lavishly appointed, burl wood paneled stateroom she was directing Nora on unpacking for the voyage and deciding which items to press for dinner when Abigail tapped on the door. “Can you spare Liliana and Jasmin for a few minutes?” she asked.
“Of course,” Danielle replied, smiling at her friend. “What’s going on?”
“My orphaned travelers are coming aboard and I thought the girls might like to help me welcome them. Some are a little frightened about making the journey. Liliana and Jasmin have made the trip before, so I thought they could help calm jittery nerves. And many of them speak French.”
Danielle swept a long lock of hair from her forehead and rested her hands on her hips. “Great idea, if we can find them. They need practice.” She opened the door and called down the corridor. “Liliana, Jasmin, where are you?”
Three cabins away, a door opened and the girls tumbled out of the triplet’s cabin, laughing.
“Girls, girls,” Danielle said, laughing with them. “Listen to me. Abigail has an invitation for you.”
Abigail caught Jasmin and Liliana by the hands. “I have some children for you to meet. I need your help, because most of them are a little scared of this big ship. Will you join me in making them feel more comfortable? We’re having hot cocoa and biscuits on the promenade deck before we cast off.”
“I’m starving,” Jasmin said, and immediately started down the corridor.
“Just a moment, young lady,” Danielle called to her. “Come back and get your coat and muffler. It’s sunny outside, but still cold. Don’t forget your mittens and cap, too. And Liliana, you’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you?”
“I always do,” Liliana said with a grown-up sniff. “She’s such a child.”
“Am not,” Jasmin said.
“Are too.”
“Girls, behave.” Danielle gave them a stern look and they scurried off to find their coats. “It’s the excitement,” she said to Abigail.
Abigail laughed. “I must admit, I’m fairly excited, too. Between the new children, the triplets, the new ship–”
“And your new husband. You have your hands full.”
“But I love it, Danielle. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Abigail said, her face glowing. “You’re a busy woman, too, and I’ll bet you wouldn’t change a thing, either.” She took Danielle’s hands in hers. “And I want you to know, I’m very happy about you and Jon.”
“I’m glad to know that,” Danielle said, and gave Abigail a hug. Just then, a strange sensation prickled her neck, and a thought flashed through her mind. Those children. Hastily, she grabbed her sable coat and sunglasses. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.”
Slowly, Abigail’s face lit with realization. “I’ve read all of the new children’s files, Danielle, and I don’t think—”
“I know you would’ve told me if you thought any of the boys might be Nicky.” Danielle slipped on her leather gloves, thinking. “I’ve decided I need to put to rest the tragedies of the past. For Jon’s sake, and for our future together.”
“Good for you.” Abigail hooked her arm in Danielle’s and when Liliana and Jasmin emerged with their coats, they all made their way to the promenade deck.
When they reached the throng of children, they greeted them, and Abigail, Liliana, and Jasmin began chatting, sharing stories about the fun they’d had on the journey from the States. As Danielle spoke with some of the boys, she scanned the other children from behind the safety of her sunglasses, but recognized no one.
“There you are.”
Startled, Danielle swung around at the sound of Jon’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
Jon gave her a kiss on the cheek. “We own this tugboat, remember? So, what are you doing here? I thought this cocoa party was for kids.”
She smiled at him. “I’m a chaperone.”
Jon put his arm around her and, as he did, Abigail cast a glance tow
ard him and shook her head sadly.
I know, Jon mouthed. He took off his hat and plopped it onto Danielle’s head. “Hey sweetheart,” he said, affecting a Cary Grant accent. “How about joining me for a spin on the captain’s deck?”
Danielle managed a small laugh. “I’ll follow you anywhere, sailor.” As they left, she stole a parting glance at the little boys.
They visited with the captain, talked about the route the ship would take, then walked along the outside deck. As Jon continued his playful banter, Danielle felt her spirits lift.
He grinned at her. “So where do you want to get married, gorgeous?”
“I haven’t even thought that far ahead.” Tilting her chin down, she surveyed him over the rims of her sunglasses. “Besides, I thought you were already a married man.”
“Details, details. The divorce won’t take much longer.”
“Promise?”
“My word as a gentleman,” he said, holding his hand up. “Say, I have a great idea about our wedding.” Jon plucked his hat from her head, put it on, and adjusted it low over his eyes. “How about getting married in a home of our own?”
“Or in Grasse? Now that the war is over, my mother wants to open the old family chateau again.”
“Whatever you’d like,” he replied, his brown eyes twinkling. He pushed his hat back. “But as soon as we arrive in Los Angeles, I’d like for us to start looking for a new home.”
“I’d like that,” she replied, feeling relieved. She’d been worried about bringing Jon into Cameron’s house, even if it was hers now. “I’ll put my house up for sale right away.”
“Only if you want.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’d like to stay in Beverly Hills, though. I love the views from the hills above Sunset.”
“I once went to a party at Lou’s home. His view is absolutely breathtaking, from downtown clear across to the Pacific. Best of all, Lou and Abigail would be our neighbors.”
“Sounds perfect. I can’t wait, darling.”
“Neither can I.” She rested her head on his shoulder, yet in truth, their old issues still nagged her. With effort, she pushed her thoughts aside and looked up at him. “Let’s walk a little more.”
They continued their stroll along the deck, then stopped to gaze at the crowd below. It was almost time to leave, and far below they could see their friends and family who’d stayed to see them off.
“Let’s go down to the promenade deck,” Jon said. “The view’s better.”
They hurried downstairs. At the rail stood Abigail, Lou, Marie, and all of the children, waving and calling out their good-byes.
“Look, Jon,” Abigail said. “There’s our mother.”
“Where?” Jon leaned over the railing, and began to wave. “Oh, I see her, and there’s Libby, too.”
Danielle looked out. Libby appeared to be deep in conversation with a nun. Behind them, she spied a group of about ten children. A shiver coursed down her spine. “Abigail, who are those children with her?”
Abigail shot a look at Jon. “More orphans, Danielle. Leaving England. But not on this ship.”
“Do you know anything about them?”
Abigail nodded. “The nuns brought them here but they were too late to have their papers processed. Instead, they’ll sail next week for Australia. We have a good home there, too.”
The muscles in Danielle’s neck tensed. She lowered her sunglasses and squinted against the sun. The boys looked to be about eight to fourteen years old.
Suddenly, Danielle sucked her breath in and backed from the railing, her heart beating wildly. Time rushed to a halt. Her senses sharpened. Every smell, every sound, every sight suddenly crystallized in her mind.
Jon turned to her. “Danielle? Are you all right?”
She felt overwhelmed for a moment, her intuition crackled in her mind, and she felt dizzy from sensory overload. Those boys! She shook her head and inched toward the exit.
Abigail shook her head in warning. “Oh no, Danielle, you can’t mean to go down there. Why must you torture yourself?”
Jon glanced at his sister. “You’re Danielle’s dearest friend, Abigail. Surely you know by now that she’s obstinate and hard-headed.” He frowned and glanced at his watch. “I understand, Danielle, but we sail in a few minutes.”
“Listen to Jon, dear.”Abigail rested a hand on Danielle’s arm. “Please don’t do this to yourself, love. You must get over this. Besides, there isn’t time.”
“I won’t be long.” Danielle felt her mind sharpen and clear. I must do this. She set her jaw and started for the doorway.
“Wait,” Jon said. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to, darling.”
“I’m with you, Danielle. From now on. You’d better get used to it.” He kissed her cheek. “But let’s hurry.”
They raced to the lower deck and Danielle pushed through the crowd. She paused at the top of the gangplank, angling for a view. A flash of red caught her eye. What was that?
“Going the wrong way, luv,” Danielle heard someone chide her as she tore down the gangplank.
“Four minutes,” called a uniformed crew member as they dashed past him. “Or we sail without you. Captain’s orders.”
“She’s with me,” Jon yelled. “We’ll be back!”
Apprehension gathered in Danielle’s chest and she began to tremble. Yet, the sound of the children’s chatter drew her like a magnet. She could make out several languages. Dutch, Yiddish. She hesitated. French. She pressed on.
And then, through the crowd, she saw it.
Her heart lurched. One of the boys clutched a stuffed monkey. Tattered and faded, it was made of red-striped fabric with black button eyes. Like the one I made for Nicky!
Her legs weakened as she drew closer, jostling past a jumble of hats and coats and umbrellas. She tore off her sunglasses and squinted, wedging through the crowd, with Jon trailing behind her. She caught her breath and blinked. That monkey! Now she was sure of it. Her throat constricted and she grew light-headed.
Nicky?
Her pulse quickened. The boy who held the monkey was small and slight. Could he be ten years old? He had black hair, as bluish black as a raven’s wing. Could Nicky’s hair be so dark now?
She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.
The boy turned, clearly startled, and looked up.
And then her heart sank. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. “Where did you get this monkey?” she demanded.
The boy shrank back. From the other side of their little gathering, Libby and the nun turned around.
Danielle knelt to his level. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “My little boy once had one like it. May I see it? I’ll give it back.”
Shyly, he let her take it.
“What a nice monkey.” She studied the stuffed animal, brought it to her face and buried her nose in it. Her heart leapt. I know the smell of this fabric, the stuffing. But it had been more than six years ago. How many other mothers had made monkeys from the same pattern, the same materials? She looked closer. The buttons were different, mismatched. Her eyes misted. What did it matter anyway? This boy was not her Nicky. And yet, that feeling.... She shook her head.
“Thank you for letting me look at it.” She handed the stuffed animal back to the boy and stood.
Jon arrived at her side. She looked up at him and shook her head. “Ah, Danielle,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “I won’t say that it’s all right, because it isn’t, or that I can ever fully understand, because I’ll never know the depth of your pain. But I love you, and I’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me.”
The boy stood watching Danielle and Jon. He mimicked them, hugging his monkey. In halting English, he said, “I love monkey.”
Jon reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Does your monkey have a name, son?”
“Maurice.” The boy kissed the stuffed animal’s cheek. “My brother was Maurice.”
Dan
ielle glanced at Jon. “We’d better return to the ship.”
The little boy went on. “But Maurice got sick.”
“I’m so sorry. I hope you have a good trip.” Danielle smiled at him and started to leave.
“He died,” the boy said. “That’s when I got monkey.”
Danielle stopped, tilted her head. “Who gave you the monkey?”
“My friend. I was sad, he wanted happy for me.”
She raised her hand, shielding her eyes against the sun. Behind the little boy, another boy walked toward them.
Her vision greyed, prickling against her eyelids.
“Look, there he is.”
As the boy approached them, she felt blood rush in her ears, and she gripped Jon’s arm. That boy walks like Max! What was it about the shape of his head, his sandy hair? A cloud crossed over the sun and the boy’s face came into full view. And those eyes...they’re Bretancourt green!
Nicky? The name caught in her throat and she dropped to her knees. Could it be? She choked out his name, “Nicky?”
The sandy-haired boy stopped a few feet from her.
“Nikolov von Hoffman?”
He cocked his head. “That’s my real name. How did you know it?”
Mon Dieu, that voice! Danielle flung her arms open and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Nicky, my dear Nicky, it’s you!”
“Maman?” he said hesitantly.
“Yes, it’s me, Nicky. It’s me, your mother.”
His eyes widened. “Maman!” Nicky ran to her and flung himself into her arms with a force that nearly knocked her over.
Danielle squeezed him to her, hardly daring to believe it was him. “Oh, Nicky, my dear, sweet Nicky, how I’ve searched for you.” She was laughing now, through her tears, nuzzling her nose against his neck, reveling in his touch and the familiar sweet, little-boy smell of his skin that she had missed all these years. Yes, oh yes, my son lived! Oh, grâce à Dieu, I always knew it!
Nicky hugged her neck tightly, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. “I’d always hoped you’d find me, Maman.”
Jon knelt and put his arms around both of them. “Thank God,” he said in a thick voice, ruffling Nicky’s hair.
