“Thank you.” Melanie swallowed back the sudden tears clawing at her throat. Would they see one another again? She leaned in and wrapped the woman in a hug. “I love you and will be praying for you as well.”Lord, please protect her from danger.
“Don’t you worry about me. I’m in good hands.” She winked.
“Yes.” She forced a smile, which sent a couple of rogue tears racing down her face. “You are.” Melanie swiped them away.
“Grafton is coming to visit in a few days. I’ll write with any news.” Celestia stepped back and grabbed one of each of their hands.
Melanie grabbed Chaisley’s free one, and they made a circle.
“The Lordbless thee, and keep thee: The Lordmake his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lordlift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”
“Amen.” Chaisley’s strong voice accompanied the squeezing of Melanie’s hand.
She forced oomph she didn’t feel into her own response. “Amen.”
They walked down the steps toward the car with Chaisley’s hand on her shoulder. She gazed out at the road ahead.
A road of challenges.
A road fraught with unknowns.
A road of ... darkness.
In the dayssince bringing Miss Frappier and her assistant to her grandmother’s home in Amsterdam, Rick had done everything he could to track down his last known contact and update him on what he’d learned about the pianist. But the man was nowhere to be found. A fact that was a bit more than unsettling.
He’d risked sending a coded telegram as instructed in case of emergency to the agency in London and received a response that they’d lost several agents, communication was sparse, and to stay the course.
That would be difficult when the course was vague at best.
And then there was Miss Chaisley Frappier. With the tour beginning, he would have much more proximity to her. For days he’d wondered if her questions to him and the revelation of her disability were meant to distract him. Itwasa popular tactic.
Still, he had to admit he liked the woman. She seemed strong, forthright, observant. And apparently gifted at the piano, although he hadn’t seen her play yet. The anticipation was killing him. Though he was by no means a music aficionado, he wanted to understand how a blind woman could be the world’s foremost pianist.
The past several days he hadn’t been needed, so Chaisley told him to take the time to relax and run any errands he might need to tackle before they hit the road.
Mrs. Frappier had been generous with his quarters, and the food was the best he’d eaten in months—possibly even years. It would be easy to relax and let down his guard here, but he’d made use of the time searching for his contact and making himself useful around the estate as much as possible. He watched from a distance as the three women spent a great deal of time with their heads together in quiet discussions or as they headed up to the attic.
Twice, he’d followed them and done his best to listen in—to no avail.
Too bad he hadn’t been able to overhear them. His curiosity was piqued.
Movement out front of the estate brought him to attention. The women were headed to the car, and he reached for the rear passenger door. Over time, he was certain Miss Frappier would be useful. Even if it was just to get him into places where powerful people gathered.
“Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman.” Miss Frappier got into the car first, followed by Miss Brigman. “Since we are headed to Austria first, I’d like to hear your plan for the trip.” Her perfect Dutch didn’t even hold the slightest hint of her English accent. Fascinating. Had she spoken Dutch as a child as well?
Most of the time the people he drove didn’t care about details. It was his job to figure it out and then to get them from point A to point B. Her question only gained her more respect. “I was thinking it would be best to avoid driving through Germany, so we will go around and then into Austria.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Which is now part of Germany, but I think you understand my initial plan and why.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” She nodded and leaned back against the seat.
Her companion, however, sat with her back straight and her shoulders stiff. “Two days of travel, correct?” Another perfect Dutch accent. Who were these women?
“Yes.” He glanced again at Miss Brigman in the rearview mirror. She hadn’t stopped studying him, her eyes narrowed and brow dipped. He offered her a smile. “We will be stopping at one of the hotels in France that was on the approved list.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.” Miss Frappier’s head was down as she listened to something her assistant whispered to her. “Mr. Zimmerman, another question, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“I like to count things. How many steps. How many people I hear around me. How many days, months, hours, etc. I think you get the point.” That musical laughter of hers accompanied the last sentence.
