The Silk Swan

By Sheldon Friedman

Published by CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS
CLASSIC imprint

The Silk Swan continues the exciting adventures and life-styles of Travis Kane, his family and friends after World War II. This novel focuses on the coming of age issues of their children, their heartbreaks, tragedies, passions, joys and what it was like to live during the latter part of The Cold War years.
New York, London and Paris have never been more exciting and adventurous. Filled with romance, suspense, racial tensions, family dynamics, sexual tension and political intrigue, the Kane chronicles will remain in your memory long after you read the final pages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS
• Release date: Jul 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463696187

Sheldon Friedman

Sheldon Friedman, a resident of Colorado, recently retired as a practicing lawyer. He is also a playwright, having his play The Long Goodbye performed at a local theater in 2010. A recent play is in the hands of a producer and another play is to be produced in 2016. A former college lecturer on legal topics, he has been writing short stories, plays and novels since the age of ten.

Book preview

The Silk Swan continues the exciting adventures and life-styles of Travis Kane, his family and friends after World War II. This novel focuses on the coming of age issues of their children, their heartbreaks, tragedies, passions, joys and what it was like to live during the latter part of The Cold War years.

New York, London and Paris have never been more exciting and adventurous. Filled with romance, suspense, racial tensions, family dynamics, sexual tension and political intrigue, the Kane chronicles will remain in your memory long after you read the final pages.

BY THIS AUTHOR

THE SATIN SASH

After the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor in 1941, American lives change dramatically. The Satin Sash continues the breathtaking lives of Travis Kane, Lindsay Wayne and Jean-Paul Renault with all the inherent dangers of the French Resistance, President Roosevelt’s live or die missions, and death defying action when German spies secretly enter the US through its ports. A wedding reception and the lives of Travis Kane and his family are thrown into chaos as America enters World War II.

The Satin Sash is set against the explosive backgrounds of New York, France, London and Ireland. Travis Kane becomes President Roosevelt’s tool in bringing one of the world’s most famous paintings to New York. Racial tensions surface. A famous black activist enters politics and an actress makes choices in the face of heartbreaking tragedy. A public enemy serves his country in wartime and a black artist becomes famous. When a baby is born the future shows promise.

With tension, suspense and surprising plot twists, we continue to follow the lives of the people we loved in The Velvet Prison.

THE VELVET PRISON

Against the pulsating backdrop of a New York City in social and economic change, young Travis Kane struggles with his passion to become a painter and the conservative demands of his strict grandfather, Barclay Kane.

His mother, unable to come to terms with tragedy, has taken Travis’s infant sister Lindsay, and leaves their house in Gramercy Park. Travis is abandoned and raised by the grandfather he adores.

Travis has a unique idea that will change his life, leading him on an exciting journey, meeting Manhattan’s privileged, studying art in Paris and, finding his way to Broadway. Meanwhile Lindsay’s mother has a secret and a passion. Her daughter must become a famous stage actress.

When Lindsay and Travis’s worlds collide … their lives are never the same again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sheldon Friedman, a resident of Colorado, has retired as a practicing lawyer. He is also a playwright. His play The Long Goodbye was performed at a local theater in 2010. A recent play is in the hands of a producer while other plays were produced in 2016 and 2017.

A former college lecturer on legal topics, he has been writing short stories, plays and novels since the age of ten.

Copyright © 2018 Sheldon Edward Friedman

Published by

CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS

Asia’s Global Print & Digital Publisher

CLASSIC imprint

DEDICATION

To Ellen, and the city

Cover Image: The original image in the public domain may

be attributable to Robert Holzac, and has been recolored

THE SILK SWAN

A Novel

by

Sheldon Friedman

PART 1

1945

The future belongs to those who believe

in the beauty of their dreams.

Eleanor Roosevelt

ONE

The Funeral Train arrived at Union Station in Washington DC after a slow journey from Warm Springs, Georgia, as if the caravan were grieving on its own. The Ferdinand Magellan engine and cars entered the station, hesitating from time to time as if it’s precious cargo would be damaged even if the train came to a smooth halt. The casket draped in an American flag was carefully transferred to a caisson to travel from Union Station to the White House along Constitution Avenue. The military procession moved at a snail’s pace causing the hot April day in 1945 to seem even warmer to the thousands of spectators lining the streets to pay their final respects to Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the 32nd President of the United States. His casket was brought to the East Room where Roosevelt would lay in State.

Two hours earlier a train from New York to Washington DC arrived at Union Station. Travis and Maggie Kane carrying Joseph, their bored three-year-old, were transported in a waiting car to the White House at the invitation of Eleanor Roosevelt, Franklin’s widow. During a brief memorial service, Maggie and Travis sat behind Eleanor and her children. Harry Truman, now President of the United States, sat on the other side of Eleanor next to his wife, Bess and daughter, Margaret.

An empty wheel chair had been placed to the side of the altar. The only dry eyes in the group of mourners were Joseph’s who seemed to have taken a liking to Margaret and tried to attract her attention by blinking. A humiliated Maggie whispered warnings to him which he ignored. He was his father’s son when it came to discipline. To show his parental concern, Travis ruffled Joseph’s black hair and stroked his cheek ignoring Maggie’s piercing eyes. After the service, the casket was again placed on a caisson and transported back to the train for its final journey to Hyde Park, New York where Roosevelt would be interred on the family estate, near the sundial in the rose garden.

‘He would be pleased to know you were with us,’ Eleanor whispered to Travis as they boarded the Funeral Train for the trip to Hyde Park. ‘He spoke of you often and was pleased with what you did for your country and for him.’

Travis was uncomfortable being included with the family.

He told Mrs. Roosevelt he was honored to accompany the entourage to Hyde Park. Joseph was getting fussy and slept most of the trip in Travis’ lap. Harry Truman remained at the White House sending Margaret as his representative. She and Maggie became instant friends and chatted quietly for most of the journey.

At Hyde Park, Joseph was startled when cannons roared again and again during the twenty-one-gun salute as the caisson made its way up a hill to a grave dug near a hedge in the rose garden. Behind the horse drawn caisson walked a riderless horse with its saddle reversed. Eleanor walked behind the casket. After the casket was lowered into its grave a plane circled above, and cadets fired three rounds of ammunition into the air. When the bugler blew taps, Travis wept, holding tight to Joseph and Maggie’s hands.

On the way back to Manhattan, Travis stared out the window barely speaking to Maggie who chatted with an antsy Joseph who didn’t travel well. Finally, she thought the timing was right.

‘Now that matters have settled down, maybe we can get back to the things we really want,’ Maggie said. Travis knew the tone. It was the same sound in her voice before they were married when Travis was in a state of indecision because of his grandfather’s mandate to give up art and become a lawyer. He had a choice to make, and Maggie wouldn’t marry him until he knew what he wanted and needed. When he finally found some direction in his life she married him.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said using the innocent persona he’d developed with practice over the years.

‘I don’t know how to say this,’ she said.

Travis kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck. ‘The day you don’t know how to say something will be a sad …’

‘…All right, all right,’ she hissed, trying to keep her voice loud enough for only him to hear. ‘It’s time you stopped being Captain America, flying all over the world performing daring feats for the good old USA.’

‘You mean now that Roosevelt’s dead, our life begins anew?

‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Maggie said brushing his hair away from his forehead. ‘You haven’t paid attention to the gallery or done any… meaningful painting for I don’t know how long. I don’t know the last time I saw you paint anything original. Sure, you are superb at copying structures, but I haven’t seen you use your imagination. Where is your creative spark, the one I got used to before we married? You’ve substituted Junior Rockefeller for Roosevelt as far as projects are concerned… and you just seem at a loose end. I want the Travis I fell in love with at The World’s Fair.’

Travis sat back in his seat. The 1939 World’s Fair was an expo of the future and a warm feeling rushed through him remembering holding hands with Maggie and walking by the different exhibits, one more spectacular than the other. And wasn’t she saying the words he had said to himself repeatedly? Wasn’t he his own disappointment? It seemed when the war started he became stagnant, or was it his talent faltering? He felt used up and empty as if whatever talent he had simply drained from his body. Well, he wasn’t one to admit defeat. He needed to work out this dilemma himself.

‘What do you want from me Maggie? The entire world is starting to settle down now. It hasn’t been easy for any of us.’

Maggie didn’t answer immediately, and Travis knew she was choosing her words carefully. ‘I guess I need you to passionately want something… again.’

Now this was the Maggie he loved, but he was not one to give her satisfaction by admitting she was right. To do so would be…well, unmanly. He puffed his chest a bit to assure himself.

‘I don’t know what you mean. I want things…I want some things and don’t want others. This conversation is making me nervous.’ He looked at Joseph. Joseph wasn’t nervous he was asleep. ‘I want things,’ he repeated.

‘I’m not making myself clear,’ Maggie said.

Yet, Travis heard every word she said and knew exactly what she meant.

Back in New York, Travis handed a sleeping Joseph to Maggie while he unlocked their apartment door at The Dakota. Once inside Maggie handed him back to Travis.

‘He weighs a ton, Travis. Do you think we’re feeding him to much?’ She turned on the lights in the foyer and walked into the living room.

‘You’re talking like he’s our pet.’

‘Well, maybe he’s eating more than he should,’ she said, ignoring his weak humor.

‘That’s not the problem, darling,’ Travis said. ‘The problem is we’re not eating enough.’

‘You can laugh at your little joke while putting your son to bed,’ Maggie said as Travis headed for Joseph’s bedroom. ‘I’m exhausted. I’m sure you are too.’ Maggie sat in the center of the large sofa dominating their living room, settling back into the soft cushions. ‘When you come back after you get him in bed. I have something to tell you.’

Travis carried a half-asleep Joseph to his bedroom. He laid him down with his head on a small pillow. Travis removed his shoes and socks then his shirt and short pants. He pulled a cotton pajama top over his head. Joseph’s eyes were closed as Travis slipped him into his pajama bottoms and pulled a small blanket up under his chin. After he kissed him on his forehead, he flipped the switch on the rabbit shaped night light on a small chest of drawers and turned off the overhead light. Travis tiptoed toward the door.

‘I want a story, daddy. I need one,’ Joseph said.

Travis sighed, and turned toward his son. He returned to Joseph’s bed and sat down heavily on its edge. He smiled.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Travis said. He started what was to be an abridged story about Peter Cottontail. He said no more than three words before Joseph fell asleep. It was all he could do to keep from kissing him goodnight again.

When he returned to the living room, Maggie was laying on her side with her knees pulled into her chest. He was tempted to let her sleep the night, but her eyes opened, and she smiled up at him.

‘He didn’t ask for a story by chance?’

‘Of course not,’ Travis said.

Maggie patted the cushion next to her. He kissed her on the cheek and sat down.

‘You are spoiling him. He loves being the center of attention.’

‘Who doesn’t?’ Travis asked, putting his arm around her.

Maggie leaned against his shoulder. ‘I don’t think he’ll take well to a sister or brother.’

Travis fought the lump forming in his throat. ‘When?’ he said trying to keep his voice casual.

‘December,’ Maggie said. ‘Do I have to get you another Christmas gift?’

Travis unbuttoned her blouse. ‘We better do this while we still have the chance.’ He removed his shirt and slipped out of his trousers. Maggie stood, and her skirt slipped to the floor.

‘Doing this is exactly what caused…’ She gasped.

Travis entered her before she could finish her sentence.

In his art gallery the next morning, Travis received a phone call from John D. Rockefeller, Jr. relaying a message from the White House. ‘De Gaulle wants his painting back.’

In seconds, the terrible night in Paris when he and Jean-Paul removed the Mona Lisa from The Louvre and flew it to America for safe keeping, and out of the hands of the Germans, flashed before his eyes. He heard the gunshots while Rockefeller was speaking. ‘Why doesn’t he come and get it?’ Travis said.

‘Because a horse’s ass rarely moves to the front of the horse,’ Rockefeller said not missing a beat.

‘Rarely?’

‘All right, never,’ Rockefeller said, laughing.

‘That’s very funny Junior, but I’m still the one chosen to deliver the goods and travel half way across the world.’

‘Wait until you hear the next bit of hilarity.’

‘What? I’m bracing myself,’ Travis said.

‘In payment for serving your country…again, you can go to London. Visit Lindsay and Jean-Paul before coming home,’ Rockefeller said and then he filled him in on the details before he could change his mind.

Maggie was not happy. ‘This is what I was talking about after Roosevelt’s funeral. Why is it always you? When will you learn to say….?’ She threw up her hands. ‘Well, you’ll get to see Lindsay and Jean-Paul, and I can sit here and gestate.’

‘You’re not really upset, are you?’

‘Can I go with you?’ Maggie said. ‘We can do this together.’

‘First of all, Morgan hasn’t been well. What will we do with Joseph? We usually leave him with your aunt, and we have no one else to take care of him and second, you shouldn’t be travelling long distances now.’

‘You’re right, I guess. I suppose I can take care of the gallery. That’s not as much fun,’ Maggie said.

Travis detected a tone of relief in her voice. She loved the gallery and he sensed she wasn’t sure she would travel well. It would only be for a few days and he preferred she stay in New York. Paris was not back to normal. There were still German soldiers in the city and he’d feel better knowing she was safe at home. He missed Jean-Paul and Lindsay. What little family he had, lived thousands of miles away.

The Mona Lisa was wrapped carefully in a special cloth treated to seal in the synthetic atmospheric conditions protecting the fragile canvas and color. The wrapping added weight to the painting. The Metropolitan Museum insisted Travis hand carry the painting to keep it in his safe-keeping until it reached The Louvre. Travis relived in his mind the night the painting was hidden under a blanket covering Jean-Paul’s torso. He lay on a gurney and was transported by ambulance to an airfield. It was a wonder the painting arrived in the United States in one piece. In fact, it was a wonder Jean-Paul and Travis arrived in the United States intact.

Travis still had mental scars from being chased and shot at by German soldiers. Returning to Paris unleashed so many memories, beginning with studying painting with Jean-Paul and the wonderful times they had together. So much had happened since then to him and Jean-Paul. At least his sister seems happy since they married, but it’s problematical. He knew Jean-Paul initially wanted to return to Paris, but he and Lindsay seemed happy in London and his thoughts of moving back to France faded daily. Travis knew Jean-Paul would not forgive the French for collaborating with the Nazis. His joining the Resistance wasn’t enough to temper his shame and humiliation. The German occupation was an embarrassing defeat for the French. Collaboration with the Nazis was humiliating. And Travis had to face the fact Jean-Paul was not the same since losing his leg. Travis knew it was a trauma from which he would never recover even though he walked without a limp with his prosthesis. After mulling all these memories over in his mind, his disposition brightened at the thought of seeing them again.

The flying weather was going to be perfect, and Joseph sat quietly in Maggie’s lap in the back seat of the government car taking them to the Fort Hamilton Army base in Brooklyn to board a military transport plane to Paris. Travis was in the front seat chatting amiably with the driver as they zig-zagged through midday Manhattan traffic, heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge. He glanced in the back seat from time to time checking on his son’s behavior. Maggie stared out the side window not joining the conversation. It was a long ride to their destination in the southwestern corner of Brooklyn. They arrived early afternoon and Maggie woke a sleeping Joseph.

The plane was waiting. Their car drove onto the tarmac. Travis handed the painting to the soldier who opened his side door and Travis got out of the car happy to stretch his legs. He moved to Maggie’s side of the car and took Joseph in his arms, as he helped her out.

‘I can’t believe we’re still in New York,’ she said.

Travis shifted Joseph to his left side. ‘Barely,’ he said.

Maggie put her hands on her hips stretching from side to side. The soldier took the painting and Travis’s small suitcase to the plane.

‘We’re ready to leave sir,’ he said standing back so Travis, could make his way up the air stairs into the plane. Suddenly the engines started to hum, and propellers began to spin.

Travis kissed Joseph. ‘Take care of your mother,’ he said. He took his fingers and brushed Joseph’s hair off his forehead.

‘Bye, Daddy.’

Travis handed Joseph to Maggie and started toward the plane, when he heard Maggie shout above the engine’s noise, ‘Hey, Rembrandt! Remember me? I’m the birth mother!’

He turned red-faced. Maggie hadn’t used his old nickname in a long time. He ran back and leaning over Joseph kissed her waiting lips. ‘And you know how that happened, don’t you?’

Maggie kissed him again. ‘If you don’t start paying more attention to me, that option is going away.’

‘You say it, but you don’t mean it,’ he said. He kissed her again. ‘I love you, darling.’

‘Now you have my attention. Safe journey Travis, and hug Lindsay and Jean-Paul for me.’

Travis ran toward the waiting plane. Maggie didn’t get back into the car until the plane’s door was closed and the air stairs pulled away.

She wondered how he was going to deal with two children, as Joseph snuggled into her arms. She looked down at Joseph who was sleeping again… and she knew.

Travis’s plane landed at Orly Air Base nine miles south of Paris. There were strong winds and the plane’s taxi was bumpy after a rough landing. Travis stared out the window as the plane approached the terminal and was surprised to see a large crowd gathered near the gate. Behind the crowd on poles, stood the French and American flag side by side. Travis hadn’t expected a welcoming committee but saw no other planes in the area. As the plane moved closer, Travis spotted a man on a horse at the front of the crowd. The plane’s momentum slowed, and Travis recognized the tall, uniformed horseman. It was Charles de Gaulle. Seeing de Gaulle mounted on his horse recalled Rockefeller’s jibe, and he smiled.

Travis was nervous. He was about to meet the head of the Provisional Government of France. The man was impressive. When the plane’s door opened, Travis heard music from a small band he hadn’t originally noticed, playing the first bars of La Marseillaise. De Gaulle slid off his horse and moved to a lectern at its side, in front of which were a row of chairs. As Travis deplaned two French soldiers approached him, one taking the painting and the other escorting Travis to the center chair directly behind de Gaulle. Suddenly the vacant chairs filled with an audience made up of civilians and French soldiers, who seemed to materialize from out of nowhere. Travis sat as de Gaulle began to speak in French. A soldier sitting next to Travis translated de Gaulle’s remarks into English. He spoke at great length about the close ties between the United States and France as well has his respect and admiration for President Roosevelt, and said he looked forward to working with President Truman, although his tone of voice didn’t confirm his words. Travis knew there was no love lost between the two of them and there was always an unsettled relationship between de Gaulle and Roosevelt. He closed his remarks with the story of how the Mona Lisa was removed from The Louvre and flown to America for safe keeping. Travis thought de Gaulle was generous in his comments, for the most part. The man was a true politician. He spread his arms in the air at the end of his speech as the band began to play again.

Travis and the famous painting were driven to The Louvre. The curator, a small, wiry man with curly hair and a pointed nose, met Travis at the East entrance. When he was handed the painting, Travis smiled to himself. The look on the curator’s face could be described as a religious experience. The curator offered brief comments and disappeared inside with the painting after again thanking Travis and the United States for caring for and returning one of the world’s most famous paintings.

On the way from The Louvre, Travis passed the Tuileries which were not quite in full bloom. The Germans were poor gardeners. They excelled at killing Jews and didn’t have green thumbs.The gardens had suffered during the Occupation. Still, Travis experienced the same excitement in seeing the garden he had when he lived in Paris and studied art with Jean-Paul. The first time Travis saw the Tuileries was in a painting by Camille Pissarro who had lived in an apartment whose windows faced the garden. Jean-Paul pointed out the texture of the oil on the painting as well as its balance and proportion Pissarro created, from his apartment view. As he arrived at Paris Nord train station to board his train to London he was still thinking of Jean-Paul and how anxious he was to see him again. He hoped Lindsay was taking good care of him. When finally settled on the train, he reviewed his day in Paris and his thoughts turned to Charles de Gaulle.

Travis smiled to himself. De Gaulle was never in front of his horse.

*****

TWO

The Germans had lost the war. It was all over except for closing formalities. Barbed wire was removed from England’s beaches, but celebrating was premature. London was still bombarded by V2 rockets and civilians were getting maimed or killed. Still, peace was on the horizon and to the best of its ability the city started to recover. Food rationing continued, and it was a slow process getting back to normal. Lindsay was returning home in the West End after an audition for a new musical, Perchance to Dream, by Ivor Novello which was set to open in June at the London Hippodrome, Lindsay’s old stomping ground where three years past she had performed in DuBarry Was a Lady. She would sing the part of Melinda, a principal role if she got the part. She was walking down Clanbourn Street, off Charring Cross Road in Covent Garden when a wave of nausea hit her so strong, she had to stop and lean against a lamp post to keep her balance. She managed to find a taxi to drive her the short distance to their flat. Jean-Paul was painting in his studio when she appeared in the doorway, her face chalk white.

He dropped his brush rushing to help her into a chair. ‘What can I get you? You look terrible.’

‘I don’t know what came over me. I barely made it into the taxi,’ she said.

‘I’ll get you a glass of water,’ Jean-Paul said. ‘Don’t move. Maybe I should call the doctor.’

‘No. Not yet.’ Lindsay stood. ‘I feel better now. I can get it.’ She walked slowly into the kitchen with Jean-Paul following her. ‘I’m all right now,’ she said. ‘Go back to your work. I’ll just lay down for a while before fixing dinner.’ She steadied herself against the edge of a countertop. ‘What are you working on Jean-Paul, I want to see.’

‘Maybe this evening after dinner,’ Jean-Paul said.

‘I can see in your face you want me to see it now, darling.’ She drank a half glass of water. ‘I’m really feeling better.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jean-Paul said smiling. ‘Come, come with me.’ He put his arm around her waist and they returned to the studio where Lindsay stood in front of his easel. She knew he loved to show his work.

In the center of the painting a building was on fire, with red and orange flames swirling below clouds of smoke shaded white and black, highlighting the fires intensity. Outside of the conflagration was a woman of indeterminate age, her hair smoking and wild, her hands clasping her face, eyes opened wide, black, piercing and staring at the fire. Her shoulders slumped with defeat, her dress hanging from her like the last vestiges of a normal life. Lindsay could see her shoulder bones sticking through her dress, red, sore, charred and dry. The lower part of her dress unfurled from the strength of the flames heat. At the side of the house a horse, the color of steel blue and black, bared teeth, stood on its hind legs, it’s eyes, inky black, with swirling waves of white and blood-shot red, filled with panic, the colors showing their terror. Beneath the horse’s hooves were the bodies of trampled children painted in white and black oils. The horse had risen above the carnage. On close inspection, Lindsay saw charcoal and black stigmata on the hand of one of the children, one arm twisted underneath his shoulder.

Jean-Paul watched the expression of horror on Lindsay’s face. ‘The house…’

‘I know,’ Lindsay said swallowing, fighting dryness in her mouth. ‘It’s Paris burning, isn’t it? Oh, my God, how you must feel. I’m so terribly, terribly sorry.’

Beads of perspiration sprang from Jean-Paul’s forehead, his face twisted in a scowl. His eyes on the canvas, he wrapped his arms around Lindsay and began to sob. Lindsay held him close. ‘People…civilians. The bombs. My God… its hell on earth!’ He leaned and rubbed his prosthesis as if he had feeling in his missing limb. He heard the explosion; he felt the sharp stabbing pain and felt his body lift in the air and then the nothingness of the unconscious. He stared with red-rimmed eyes at the painting, his painting. French citizens worked with the Nazis. He fought Parisians, his countrymen, the collaborators who helped the Nazis as well as those who sat back complacent. When the realization came, it settled into his very being like a heavy London fog pressing down against the city. His beloved country. His beloved city. Paris, the city of lights and romance. Lindsay rushed to the sink and returned handing him a cloth she had held under cold water. He wiped perspiration from his brow and swallowed the bitter bile rising in his throat. He slumped into a chair. ‘You knew all along, didn’t you?’

‘What are you talking about? Never mind, I know what you’re talking about. You had to learn this by yourself, Jean-Paul. You want us to return to Paris, to live in Paris. You were adamant. I’ll do what you want, but the Paris where you want to live doesn’t exist anymore my love. Paris has betrayed you.’

‘For nothing,’ Jean-Paul said. ‘For an ideal existing only in my mind. For an illusory cause. The story of Paris is in lines from Macbeth. When the story is told it will be ‘a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying… nothing.’ My people let it happen, just sat back and let the Nazis swallow them like demons entering a host body. They didn’t need the Americans to liberate them. They needed an exorcist. I sacrificed a limb, but worse than that. I sacrificed my soul.’

‘Helping the Jews was not… nothing Jean-Paul. It was saving people from extinction.’ Lindsay said. ‘It was heroic.’

Jean-Paul smiled and sighed. ‘Macbeth said, ‘Out, out brief candle!’ He shook his head. ‘Life is too short. Would it upset you if we moved back to New York?’

Lindsay started to speak, overjoyed at what Jean-Paul had said and she quickly decided to taper her excitement for fear of betraying her true feelings. All along she wanted to return to New York, to her home, but she knew if she expressed her desire to Jean-Paul she would instantly lose his trust, which she would not risk. Her heart was pounding with the sheer joy of knowing she would finally go back where she belonged. She forced her voice to remain casual and said, ‘If that’s what you want?’

Jean-Paul smiled at her. ‘Yes, that is what we want,’ he said solemnly and laughed. He put his arms around her and kissed her.

Lindsay held him at shoulder’s length. Had her feelings been so transparent? ‘I’m going to the doctor tomorrow about the nausea I’ve been having, but I’m reasonably sure of the cause. I think there will be three of us moving back to New York. I’m almost sure.’

Jean-Paul kissed her again and rushed into the kitchen returning with a bottle of the champagne they had been saving for a special occasion. ‘We must celebrate,’ Jean-Paul said excitedly. ‘I am so happy!’

‘You brought just one glass?’ Lindsay said, sitting down on their sofa.

‘But of course, no alcohol for you, Cheri. We must start building our legacy. We want a healthy baby. Travis and Maggie will be excited with the news.’ He poured himself a glass of champagne and walked to the sofa to sit by Lindsay with only a slight limp. Lindsay wondered if he was happy or saying the words he thinks she wanted to hear. ‘Well, half a glass should do for both of us,’ he said, drinking half from his glass and handing it to her.

Later in the evening, as if he had rubbed a magic lamp and a genie released from its prison granted his one wish, Jean-Paul answered a knock on his flat’s door, opening it to Travis Kane and one small suitcase.

‘Hey there sailor, want to have some fun?’

Jean-Paul pulled Travis into a hug and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘What are you doing here?’ Before Travis could answer Jean-Paul shouted for Lindsay. When she saw Travis, her eyes filled with tears as she hugged and kissed him. They both grabbed his arms, pulling him into their foyer. He hardly had time to grab his suitcase.

‘I just needed a break from that idiot de Gaulle,’ Travis said, ‘so I jumped on the train from Paris and came here for a quick visit.’ He smiled. ‘I’m tired, hungry and thirsty,’ he said checking out his surroundings. ‘Nice for a mediocre actress and her French boy-toy.’

‘Oh you,’ Lindsay said leading him to the sofa. ‘Sit and I’ll get you a drink and a sandwich. We have plenty of both. Don’t you two say anything to one another until I get back,’ she said running into the kitchen.’

Jean-Paul dropped into a chair opposite Travis. ‘Lindsay’s pregnant,’ he said as soon as she was out of sight, ‘and we’re moving back to New York.’

‘We must have had a similar urge at the same time. Maggie is pregnant too.’

‘But of course,’ Jean Paul said. ‘Great minds thinking alike.’

‘I’m not sure it was our minds that were coordinating at the same time.’

‘We’ve always been a team,’ Jean-Paul said,’ and it’s wonderful! Cousins the same age.’

Lindsay returned with sandwiches and beer. ‘We have lots of news to tell you,’ she said, setting the tray on a table next to Travis.

‘I can hardly wait, but I think Jean-Paul did the honors’ Travis said, grabbing a sandwich.

‘Oh, I wanted to tell him,’ Lindsay said.

‘Couldn’t wait,’ Jean-Paul said.

‘You didn’t tell him that did you?’ Lindsay said, blushing.

Maybe we should just enjoy