every relationship is different. Steve’s growing on me.”
“But it’s not like it was when you first met my father.”
She sucked in her breath. “No. Nothing will ever be like that again.”
Natalie eyed her intently. “How come?”
“Because I was eighteen, impressionable and totally naïve about love. But I want you to know it was the best thing that ever happened, because I have you. You’re my whole life! I love you so much you’ll never know.” She hugged her tightly again.
“I love you too, Mom.”
“I know it’s hard but let’s forget this phone call ever happened.”
“Okay.”
“Hey—Tris—”
Tris was standing on the crowded quai, impatiently waiting for the train to pull into the station. At the sound of Claude’s voice, he turned in his direction. His childhood buddy came running up to him.
“I’ve been looking all over for you since lunch. I just got off the phone with Giselle. Why don’t you come home with me this weekend? Her friend Helene is visiting from Neuchatel. She’s a real babe.”
He smiled. “If my nephew weren’t waiting for me, there’s nothing I’d like more.” Since the funeral he’d been too preoccupied trying to help Alain cope to pursue an active social life.
His friend sobered. “How’s he doing?” he asked as the train came into view.
“According to my parents, he’s made it through these two weeks without falling apart.”
“Sounds like progress.”
“Of a sort. Thanks for the invite, Claude. Let’s plan a ski trip in early December. By then I’m hoping Alain will be able to handle the separation better.”
“I’ll count on it.” He patted his shoulder. “Bonne chance.”
Tris nodded. “Give my best to your wife. Take care, mon ami.”
Relieved to be getting back to Caux, Tris boarded the train and looked for a seat. When he couldn’t find one he stood in front of the window at the entrance of the voiture, staring blindly at the passing landscape.
He had no doubts Giselle’s girlfriend lived up to Claude’s description of her. But even if it weren’t for Alain needing him so desperately, he wouldn’t have taken Claude up on his invitation.
Since hearing the words of the note Alain had found in the backpack, Tris had been haunted by them.
She must have felt awful when you never even called her.
Alain had said a mouthful. There hadn’t been a moment in the last two weeks that Tris hadn’t wondered about his relationship with Rachel Marsden.
He checked his watch. The train wouldn’t reach Montreux for another hour. Time enough for him to call Geneva and make a few inquiries.
Perhaps the Pensionnat du Grand-Chene was still in business and could provide him with a little information about one of its former students. If the school no longer existed, he would have to let it go.
The operator found the number and within seconds he was put through to the directrice. When Madame Soulis came on the line he introduced himself.
“Monsieur Monbrisson! It’s an honor to talk to you. I saw you on a recent television program about the expansion of your hotels in France. It was very impressive.”
“Thank you, madame.”
“How can I help you?”
“I’m inquiring about a student who attended your school twelve years ago.”
“Twelve you say? Just a moment. I’ll bring up that year on the computer.”
“She was a friend of mine, but we lost track years ago and I don’t have her old home address. Would it be possible for you to check your information for me?”
“Bien sur. What was her name?”
“Rachel Marsden.”
“Rachel? Ah, oui. She was the lovely blond American girl who came to us in the fall. I remember her particularly because she became ill and returned to the States after only a few months.”
The revelation sent an involuntary shudder through his body. Having to think fast he said, “That explains why I couldn’t reach her.”
“Yes. We were very sorry to see her go. She was an excellent student. Here is the number and address of her parents, Dr. and Mrs. Edward Marsden. As I recall, he was an eye surgeon.”
Tris jotted down the information. “Merci, madame. You’ve been of immense help.”
“Pas de quoi, monsieur.”
When they hung up, he immediately called the international operator for New Hampshire to find out if Dr. Marsden still had the same phone number as before.
There’d been a change.
He wrote down the new number, telling the operator not to connect him. It was only seven in the morning on the East Coast. He’d give it another half hour, then call.
Before he clicked off, he asked the operator if a Rachel or an R. Marsden were listed. To his surprise there was a listing with an R. It could belong to either sex, of course. Nevertheless he took down the number before hanging up.
A certain percentage of married professional women used their maiden names for business purposes. In a few minutes he would check it out first before trying to reach her parents.
The train rounded a curve and passed through a tunnel. The darkness reminded him of that one portion of his life he couldn’t remember.
Some friends from his old hockey team had long since filled him in on the time they’d spent together in Montreal. His family and doctors had been able to account for everything that had happened to him at his training camp and the subsequent accident that had put him in the hospital in Lausanne.
It was the time in between…the time on the ship and the period before he arrived at Interlaken that had eluded him all these years. In a while it was possible he would be able to talk to the woman who’d known him well enough to call him Tris.
When the train came back out into the sunlight, he should have felt a sense of relief that before the day was done, one phone call might give him closure on his past.
Yet a new dread had attacked him since learning Rachel Marsden had returned to the States a few months after arriving at the school because she wasn’t well.
My love—I’ll never forget last night as long as I live.
That one line from her note resounded in his head, causing him to break out in a cold sweat.
“Mom? Kendra’s
