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“Good news,” she says. “I’ve been given the green light to help your friend, as long as the sessions occur after I’m finished with my regular clients for the day, and your friend agrees to therapy. But before we can schedule any therapy sessions, I need to talk to her first to determine if she falls within the DSM-Five Diagnostic Guidelines.”
Thank the ever-loving Christ for that.“I’ll talk to her tonight and let you know how that goes?”
An eleven-year-old boy rides past the house on his bike and waves at me. Smiling, I wave back. He’s one of the kids Kellan coaches in hockey.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Troy? I mean, it’s great you want to help her. But is this a girlfriend, or someone who you’re hoping will be a girlfriend, or is she really just a friend?”
“She’s a friend.” Who I happen to be insanely attracted to, but that’s not why I want to help her.
Okay, it partly is. But that’s also why I don’t want Jess to know I’m paying for her therapy. If things eventually progress from us being friends to something more, I don’t want her to feel like she owes me.
At least now Jess can get the necessary therapy. But convincing Robyn to help her was the easy part.
Convincing Jess to agree to it won’t be so simple.
30
ANGELIQUE
May 1943
France
I hand Toddhis papers and a ration card. We’re in the barn, waiting for Pierre to arrive so we can commence the first leg of Todd’s perilous journey back to Canada. “Those are yourcarte d’identitéand the latest ration card. Baker Street needs the card so they can update the ones they’re sending with the new agents.”
What I don’t say, but Todd must be thinking, is by the time he arrives in England, the ration card he’s holding might be obsolete.
The clip-clopping of horseshoes on gravel and the rattle of a wagon outside the barn door signal it’s time.
I step out of the barn. Pierre stops the horse in front of me, and I give Todd the all-clear signal. The barn door opens, and he joins us.
Pierre and I haven’t discussed the kiss that possibly saved our lives when the German soldiers found us during the parachute drop. He hasn’t tried to kiss me again, and that is probably for the best.
I like Pierre. He’s a sweet and caring and respectful man. But he doesn’t cause my heart to flutter.
This means what we’re about to do will be less awkward. We don’t have the kiss hanging over us.
Todd and I climb into the wagon and sit with Pierre. There’s no turning back now. We just have to pray everything goes according to plan.
I don’t bother introducing the two men. The less they know about each other the better for all concerned.
The morning sky is blue with white clouds brushed across it. I pray this is a good sign.
At the train station, I purchase two tickets and inconspicuously hand one to Todd as he walks past me. He continues to the platform. I head to the loo. Six other individuals are waiting for the train. None are wearing a uniform.
I go into the ladies’ toilet and take a minute to go over the plan in my head for the first leg of Todd’s journey. I don’t need to use the loo, but I do need to give Todd some space so no one grows suspicious that we’re travelling together.
The train is pulling into the station when I step out.
Todd boards the middle car. I board the same one but through the door at the opposite end. Since I prefer to be next to the aisle in case we need to quickly disembark, I sit beside a man two decades older than me. Todd picks a seat so he’s facing me, his seatmate a young woman.
The train lurches forwards, and I release a relieved breath that no German soldiers or Gestapo agents have boarded the train with us. The train is slow moving, which means it’s less prone to inspections. And that is what I was counting on when I purchased the tickets.
The train travels through the war-weary countryside, and I half watch out the window and half pay attention to my surroundings inside the train car. Even with the absence of the enemy on the train, tension looms over us.
Growing up, Hazel and I loved travelling on the train. We would press our faces to the windows and watch the scenery pass. I miss those days. The simplicity of it, the joy I had with my sister, my constant through the regular upheavals that came with having a diplomat father.
All of that is now lost to me.
