another thing.” He could tell just from the little she said that she’d been burned, presumably by a Frenchman. But Consuelo’s British father didn’t sound like a peach either. It seemed to him as though Annabelle had had more than her fair share of lemons. And in his day, so had he, other than Fiona, the nurse he’d been in love with. And he had been alone now for a while. He was taking a break from romance. His life was simpler that way, which was the same conclusion Annabelle had come to.
They talked about the war for a while, politics in the States, some of his experiences in journalism, and hers in medicine. And if nothing else, she thought he’d make a nice friend. He walked her back to her stateroom eventually, and said a friendly but polite goodnight.
He invited her for a drink again the next day, and they had a very nice time. He played shuffleboard with Annabelle and Consuelo on the last day of the trip, and she invited him to dinner with them that night. He and Consuelo got along very well, and she told him all about her dog, and invited him to come and see her, while Annabelle made no comment.
They had a last drink that night, and out of the blue, as he walked her back to her cabin, he said that he’d like to come and see the dog. He had a Labrador himself. Annabelle laughed at what he said.
“You’re welcome to come and see the dog anytime,” she said. “You can even come and see us.”
“Well, my main interest is actually the dog,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “but I guess it would be all right to see both of you too, if the dog doesn’t mind.” He looked gently down at Annabelle then. He had learned a lot about her on the trip, more than she knew. That was his job. He could sense the pain and trials she’d been through. Women of her upbringing didn’t leave their homes at twenty-two, and volunteer to go three thousand miles from home, to serve in a war that wasn’t theirs. And they didn’t stay there afterward, and take on the profession she had, unless some pretty bad things had happened to them at home. And he had a feeling a few more had happened since. She wasn’t the kind of woman, he felt sure, to have a child out of wedlock, unless she had absolutely no other choice. And she had clearly made the best of it, and everything that had happened to her. She was a good woman. It was written all over her, and he was hoping to see her again.
“I’d like to call you when we get back,” he said properly. She wasn’t stiff, but she was always ladylike and correct, and he liked that about her too. She reminded him of Fiona in some ways, although Annabelle was younger and prettier. But what he had liked most about Fiona, and now Annabelle, was what was inside. You could tell she was a woman of determination and integrity, high morals, with an enormous heart, and a fine mind. A man couldn’t ask for more than that, and if a woman like Annabelle crossed your path, you didn’t miss the opportunity to get to know her better. Women like her didn’t come around often in a lifetime. He’d already been lucky enough to have one in his life, and he knew that if he ever had the good fortune to meet another, he wasn’t going to miss the chance.
“We’ll be in Paris,” Annabelle said to him. “We might go to Deauville for a few days. I promised Consuelo we would. And maybe to England to see her father’s family for a bit. But we’ll be around. I have to get back to work, before my patients forget that I exist.” He couldn’t imagine anyone doing that who had ever known her. And he didn’t intend to lose track of her.
“Maybe the three of us could do something this weekend,” he said pleasantly, “with the dog of course. I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.” Annabelle smiled in answer. The weekend was only a few days away, and she liked the idea. In fact, she liked everything she had learned about him on the trip. And she had a good feeling about him, of solidity, integrity, warmth, and kindness. Their respect for each other was mutual so far. It was a good start, better than most she’d had. Her brotherly friendship with Josiah should have told her something she didn’t understand at the time. And Antoine’s dazzling fancy footwork right from the beginning covered an empty heart. Callam was an entirely different kind of man.
They said goodnight outside her cabin. And the next morning she got up and dressed early, just as she had when she arrived in Europe ten years earlier, when she had left New York in despair. There was no despair this time, no sorrow, as she stood at the rail and watched the sun come up. She could see Le Havre in the distance, and they would dock there in two hours.
As she looked out over the ocean, she had an incredible sense of freedom, of finally having shed her shackles at last. She wasn’t burdened by the yoke of other people’s opinions, or their lies about her. She was a free woman, and a good one, and she knew it.
As the sun rose into the morning sky, she heard a voice next to her and turned to see Callam.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” he said quietly, as their eyes met and they both smiled. “Nice morning, isn’t it?” he said simply.
“Yes, it is,” she said, her smile deepening. It was a nice morning. They were both good people. And it was a fine life.
Danielle Steel
