Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Perhaps, bru, perhaps. But one foot in front of the other, as they say, yeah? Maybe let’s just start with making amends for what’s happening right now. Let’s get the child back. Let’s get her back safely, and soundly, and in the arms of her—
The train whistle again. Only this time it’s not the whistle that causes me to start in my seat, but the feeling that washes over me. Another cold chill. A feeling of discontent.
A feeling of, as the expression goes…
… someone walking over my grave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Exiting our suite, we see Eliza coming toward us down the hall. As we approach her, I can see in the warm, dim light of the train corridor that her eyes are a bit watery.
“Hey,” Christine says as she sees her.
“Hello,” Eliza says in return, much less frosty than she has sounded since we all came together again.
“You… okay?” Christine asks.
“Yeah, brilliant,” Eliza responds. Then she looks at me and Christine with a cocked head. “Everything all right on your end?”
“Why?” Christine asks.
“I don’t know,” responds Eliza. “Danny?”
This is one of those non-conversation conversations that are like fishing expeditions. You know that under the surface of the water there’s something that wants to take your bait, but it’s just not biting at the moment. Something’s happening inside Eliza that Christine wants to reel in and, presumably, Eliza can see there’s something going on with me and Christine and wants the same thing. And everyone in their own little boat assumes that whatever’s going unsaid has something to do with them. We play these games with each other instead of simply coming forward with what we want to say. I don’t get it.
“Yeah, no, we’re fine. You?” (Doesn’t mean I don’t still do it.)
She eyes us. We eye her back. And, finally, she says, “Yeah, all right,” heads into her cabin, and closes the door.
“That was a fuckin’ French farce,” I say.
“Nah, it would need more slamming doors,” Christine rebuts.
“Fair,” I say and start off again toward the dining car to find Alec.
We need to tell him what we now know. Especially before we get where we’re going. He needs to know. If for no other reason than Christine and I both happen to know about what comprises a fuckin’ French farce because of Alec van den Berg in the first place.
I move just past one of the wall sconces in the corridor before Christine pulls me back by the arm. “Hold on,” she says.
I do. Hold. “What?” I ask.
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him. Right now.”
“Why? I mean, why not?”
“I don’t know. Just…” She nods toward Eliza’s closed door.
Shit. I get it. I mean… yeah. No, I get it.
We’re on this totally bizarre and fucked-up expedition to rescue one child already. A child who, at least tangentially and by biology, belongs to one of us. A child who is in some kind of serious jeopardy. And a child who happens to be a product of the awful circumstances that happened between two of us the last time one of us got pregnant.
Now, do I happen to give a shit about any of that? Fuck no. I wasn’t there, it had nothing to do with me, and I should be allowed to be goddamn happy about what’s happening right now.
But there are two other people to consider. Three if you count Eliza, which I suppose you kind of have to, at least for now. So, in the midst of all this tumultuous bullshit, the news that Christine’s pregnant may not be received with the kind of enthusiasm it deserves. Not at the moment.
I hate it. I hate the idea that we’re gonna be keeping secrets. I mean, it’s not like we don’t already keep secrets all the fuckin’ time, but not about shit like this. Just about reasonable shit. Y’know, shit that might get everyone killed.
I blow air out through my pursed lips, puffing a few times kind of like this train, and then blow out one final burst, making my lips vibrate with a motor-like sound. “Yeah. Okay,” I say, finally.
“You get it?” she asks.
“Of course I do. Just feels…”
“I know,” she says, putting her hand on my chest, “I know. It’s fucked up, but we just have to get through this next bit and then we can all… whatever. I hope.”
Neither Christine nor I are as… articulate, I suppose, as Alec when it comes to communicating our thoughts and feelings, but this isn’t that. This is more along the lines that we don’t need to use words because we’re both feeling the same thing. And because we both want the same thing. Which is to see the sun rise on another day. Especially now that we have a whole extra reason to look forward to the dawn.
“All right, well… Let’s check on him anyway. Also, I’m not not hungry.”