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But did they really know the alternative? The humiliation, the terror, and the shame? The corruption of all you thought you believed in, when the gun was pointed at your head? Or at the head of someone you loved more than your own life? Was there nothing so precious that you would pay the final price, rather than betray it? Most of us live and die without ever having to find out. But Elena had seen it too closely to plead ignorance anymore. How could she tell Lucas that?
Walter swung the car around the corner. “Somewhere along here?”
Her attention snapped back to the present. “Yes…yes, we’re home, next house.”
Walter drew the car up against the curb, familiar to Elena even in the near dark. The curtains were closed, and there was no light visible from the windows, but the lamp was lit over the front door.
She turned in the seat and smiled at Walter, overwhelmed with gratitude and, at last, peace. “Please come in and have something to eat. Stretch your legs. I expect you want to get to wherever you’re going, but if you don’t, you’ll be welcome to stay the night, and then go on in the morning.”
“I don’t think so, not now. But thank you, I do need to straighten my back. I don’t know if my driving scared you, but it certainly scared me.” Without waiting to see her acknowledge it, he opened the driver’s door and climbed out, moving a little awkwardly for a moment, and then easing himself to stretch. “I’ll get your bag.”
She climbed out of her side before he came around to open it. It was a relief to stand. She turned to make sure he was following her, and saw him close the trunk, her bag in his hand. She walked slowly up the front path, intending to push the doorbell, but the door opened before she reached it and Lucas stood on the step under the light.
She had never seen anything more welcome in her life. He represented everything that was bright and good and safe, everything that was worth fighting for. She could not recall his ever saying “I love you,” yet it was the one thing she had never doubted in her whole life.
“Hello, Grandpa,” she said almost steadily. She gave a brief glance over her shoulder, then back again at Lucas. “This is Walter Mann.” She would tell him all the rest later—maybe.
Lucas smiled, and for a moment his face filled with intense emotion. Then he looked beyond her to Walter. “How do you do, Walter?” He gave a slow, charming smile. “We’re very grateful. Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea, or even a meal? If you’re in a hurry, we understand, but it would be nice if we had a chance to express our gratitude.”
Walter stepped forward to be just behind Elena. “Thank you, sir. That would be very kind. A cup of tea that wasn’t made by the railway would be wonderful. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“Not at all, come in.” Lucas stood back, pulling the door wide open, and Elena and Walter followed him into the hall, Walter still carrying the bag.
Josephine was coming forward from the drawing room, arms wide. She hugged Elena so hard that, for a moment, it actually hurt.
“Lavatory is at the top of the stairs, straight ahead,” Lucas continued to Walter. “How about a decent sandwich? We’ve got cold roast beef. A little French mustard, or the hot English stuff, if you prefer?”
“French mustard is excellent, sir,” Walter replied, showing the deference due a man two generations older than himself.
Elena stepped back, now overwhelmed with relief, and turned to Walter. She wanted to show him something of the gratitude she felt, and to make sure he was comfortable, that indeed he felt welcome. He was standing in the hallway looking a little confused, almost as if some deep emotion stirred him. She realized that she had told him that this was her grandparents’ house, but she had not mentioned their names. How thoughtless of her.
“Walter, I’m sorry. This is my grandfather, Lucas Standish, and my grandmother, Josephine.” She turned to Lucas again. She would tell him the whole story later, how deeply it had changed her, but she should acknowledge at least some of it now, so he knew how much she owed Walter. “Walter rescued me from one or two unpleasant situations. And then he drove me here from Dover. He’s an economic journalist.”
Lucas regarded Walter with considerable warmth. “Then we are doubly grateful to you.”
Josephine’s face was alight with pleasure. “And we are happy to offer you anything you care for,” she said warmly. “After roast beef sandwiches, I have an apple pie and cream. They’re last year’s apples, of course, but they store very well.”
Walter smiled, color rising up in his face. He looked tense, as if his shoulders were stiff, but he had driven a long way, and sometimes at dangerously high speeds. Elena saw that he was exhausted.
“Thank you,” he said a little awkwardly. “It sounds perfect.”
Josephine smiled back at him. “Then I’ll get started. Would you like the pie warmed? I do.”
“Yes, please,” he accepted. But he did not look as if she had put him at ease. Rather the contrary.
“Top of the stairs,” Elena reminded him, smiling also. “We’ll be in the drawing room.” She pointed to the nearest door.
Walter put down Elena’s bag and went up the stairs.
Lucas led the way to the long-familiar drawing room with its blue curtains and the arch where the dividing wall had been removed, so the room ran the full length of the house. At the far end, there was a second fireplace and French windows opening onto the garden. This was the house where Elena had been born, and she still felt bone-deep that it was home. There was the copy of a Delft painting over the fireplace, all in deep blues and greens, shadows and light on water, the outlines of ships resting in the harbor, the ghosts of buildings b
ehind them. No one pretended it was the original, and she had seen many among the world’s great paintings, but none she loved as she did this one.
There was a small fire in the hearth. Even in May, the weather growing warm, there was a coolness in the air after sunset.
Now that they were alone, Lucas looked at Elena more closely. If he even noticed the scarlet dress, he made no comment.
“Are you all right?” he said gravely.
