Summer Journey

By Dana Mackie

Ellen Hanley, a forty-one year old widow, is traveling to Paris, hoping to find some solace in retracing the route she last took with her late husband and looking to sort out the problems which have arisen as a result of his death. She is befriended by Ken Kruczak, an American who is traveling on business. Ken persuades her to accompany him through France after she suffers a series of minor accidents. In the course of their travels, they fall in love but dark secrets create a gulf between them. After a horrifying event, Ellen is faced with a chilling fact and learns of Kens secret past. The revelations and their consequences bring the story to its conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 31, 2007
• ISBN: 9781467089876

Dana Mackie

This is the first novel for Dana Mackie who lives in the northeast section of the country and whose interests in Native American culture, European art and architecture and travel are evident throughout the book.  This is a romance  novel which is also part travelog, part art appreciation and part mystery.

Book preview

© 2007 Dana Mackie. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 7/26/2007

ISBN: 978-1-4259-9922-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-8987-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2007902261

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

No more, Ellen, he had said. I will listen to no more talk on this subject. Do I make myself clear? She understood then. With those words, Bart had made it clear that he would never help her. It was then she fled the gathering, bitterly reproaching herself for her naivete in ever believing that he would.

His words weighed heavily now as she arranged the navy cardigan about her slender shoulders, lowered the seat back and relaxed against the cushion with a deep sigh, the plane airborne now. It was an immense relief to be leaving Boston with all its unpleasant memories and the stress of the day slowly began to slip away.

She sighed again, recalling the reunion - her twentieth at Wellesley. Until a week ago she had desperately tried to avoid it and in her determination to stay away was almost rude to well-meaning friends who tried to coax her. No one seemed able to persuade her. She understood the friends’ good intentions but politely and firmly rejected their overtures.

It was too difficult, too soon after Tom’s death to deal with old friends from college days - the excitement and endless conversation. She couldn’t cope with that and was adamant - she would not, could not attend.

But the firm resolution dissolved in the face of an unexpected and compelling reason and, at the last minute, she decided to go. It required only a minor change in plans, a brief detour on her way to Paris. The trip abroad had been planned months before in an effort to shake herself from the depression which at times seemed to overwhelm her since Tom’s untimely and unexpected death.

Her mind was changed by a remark that Phoebe made during the last call urging Ellen to come to reunion. She and Phoebe, her best friend since college days, saw each other very little but kept the friendship alive in faithful correspondence and frequent telephone conversations. When Phoebe mentioned that Mac and Diane were planning to attend reunion with their husbands, Ellen had an inspiration and her resistance faltered.

The four women, Phoebe, Mac, Diane and Ellen, were close friends in college but had never before attended the same reunion. It would be such great fun, Phoebe had said, for the four to get together again - like old times. Ellen agreed - it would be fun. But the news that Diane’s Bart would be there was the deciding factor in her change of heart. That fact kindled a vague hope.

Ellen ran a slender hand over her brow, the gray eyes closed against the light. She groped for the cardigan and pulled it closer, flipping the tips of hair over its neckline as she did. She had had it colored three days ago in anticipation of the trip and even now marveled that she was still bothering to do so. It was because of Tom, of course. He had loved her sleek ash blonde hair and the way she wore it brushed back from her face and flipped gently under at the nape of her neck. It was Tom who had suggested that she do something about it when she facetiously remarked about the first gray hairs.

You mean dye it? she had said in amazement. Oh, Tom, that’s such a bother. I’m not really all that put out about showing my age.

He had looked at her tenderly then. But I love your hair the way it is. It’s such a beautiful color, Ellen. Keep it that way for me. Please.

She laughed and gave his ear a gentle tug in mock exasperation but in the end did what he asked because he had asked and she loved to please him. Now that he was gone, although she was hard pressed to explain it, she continued to keep it the color he had been so fond of.

As slender and attractive at forty-one as she was as an undergraduate, Ellen still drew admiring glances wherever she went. She had the high cheek bones of a photographer’s model, a slender slightly upturned nose above full lips framing a perfect set of teeth and almond shaped gray eyes.

The loveliest person I have ever known was what Tom always told her. His pride in her was undisguised and he never missed an opportunity to let her see it or tell her how much he loved her. Tender words she would never hear again.

His fatal attack came less than a year ago. There was the frightening call from his office, the frenzied and desperate race to the hospital from Rye, the too few minutes at his bedside, the last whispered endearments and then he was gone forever, their twenty year marriage over, abruptly and irrevocably. Dear, sweet, gentle, considerate Tom. Few knew as well as Ellen just how considerate for there were things - private matters they chose not to share - which defined Tom to the select few as an extraordinarily fine human being.

Before his death, she never thought about life without him. Certainly, there was no reason to expect his death so early and yet, it had happened. She shifted restlessly in her seat, her thoughts returning to the reunion. The last minute decision to attend had been a mistake. The meeting for which she had high hopes had been unfortunate and unsettling. But it was over now, she would try to forget it, to concentrate on the vacation ahead. She desperately hoped that it would bring some small respite of peace.

Getting away would give her the opportunity to collect herself and begin to put her life in order again. And from the countless scrambled priorities she must begin to sort out, she knew that a solution to Cathy’s problems would have to be found first.

Thoughts of Cathy brought a smile to her lips.

Wonderful, marvelous, adorable Cathy, the light of Tom’s life and of her own - the daughter and only child whom they so dearly loved. Her father’s death had been devastating for Cathy and her reaction to it, which sometimes verged on the violent, had been a shock to Ellen. This was the first time in her memory that Ellen was so totally unprepared to cope. It was as if her own grief had exhausted her ability to deal with her daughter’s problems.

Ellen tried to shake the unpleasant thoughts from her mind but memories of the reunion persisted. Sleep would not come. Why had she not obeyed her initial instincts and stayed away?

Changing her overseas flight plans to leave from Boston rather than New York had been too easy, she thought wryly. The detour to Wellesley had not been a wise move. A catastrophe from which she had fled in tears of bitter disappointment. What had possessed her to go?

As freshman, the four of them, Ellen, Phoebe, Lois MacKenzie (Mac) and Diane had been assigned rooms together at the end of a senior corridor and, isolated as they were from others in their class, had formed a solid friendship. Diane was Ellen’s roommate that year and Phoebe and Mac shared a room across from them. After freshman year, they had switched roommates because she and Phoebe, the quieter of the four, had developed a closer kinship. All four, however, had remained close friends until the problem between Ellen and Diane.

What fun they had had! Phoebe’s brother, a junior at Harvard, had introduced them to his friends and there was seldom a weekend when the four were not at one of the house dances, tailgating at a football game or somehow involved with scores of other young people enjoying their leisure time to its fullest. Those first two years were carefree, a time of self indulgence in seemingly endless good times.

Ellen’s gray eyes opened, the lovely almond shape of the lids drawn into a worried frown as she remembered how short the happy years had been and how soon the problems of the outside world had intruded on their comfortable isolation.

She shook her head as if to rid herself of the memory - the beginning of the end of innocence for her. The details of that fateful meeting were still vivid. She was so young! Twenty, a junior at Wellesley, when the extraordinarily handsome young man, tall and blonde with eyes the color of a summer sky had followed her through the Fogg Museum as she made her notes, busily absorbed in her Art 101 field trip. Ellen was a lithesome five foot seven and the young man was easily eight inches taller with the lean, muscular build of an athlete, making his pilgrimage behind her uncomfortably conspicuous to others in the gallery, or so she imagined.

With an endearing grin, he teased her about her note-taking. She was flustered but flattered by the attention. When he finally realized the extent of her embarrassment, he apologized in a youthfully appealing way and offered to make amends by buying her coffee in the Square.

They ran laughing through a light rain to the nearest coffee house and sat talking for hours. And Ellen fell in love that afternoon. He was a senior at Harvard Law and she was impressed. His attention to her and his quiet confidence won her heart.

James Bartley Nielsen (Call me Bart, he said) was a young man who knew what he wanted out of life and his self assurance was a new experience for Ellen. It was an expression of maturity which her own circle of friends had not yet developed and her own retiring nature was attracted to it.

There followed many afternoons of football games, walks along the shores of Lake Waban and always parties. In the course of all this, he shared his thoughts and ambitions with her, pleased to have found such a receptive ear. His bold vision of the future captivated her and drew her ever closer to him.

Inevitably, the two were recognized by their friends as a couple. And so much was Ellen’s devotion to Bart that by Christmas, she could no longer foresee a future for herself without him. By then, he had been offered and had accepted a position beyond graduation at a large Chicago firm and, in fact, was already making plans for a career beyond law in politics but that was something he had confided to her alone, a revelation reserved for a special confidante.

During the Christmas holidays he invited her to Grosse Pointe to meet his family. By then, everything was falling so effortlessly into what seemed a pre-ordained pattern that when they returned together to her home in Richmond at the end of the vacation, it was tacitly understood by the couple and their families that an engagement would soon follow.

Later, at vacation end, as he stood with Ellen on the platform at South Station where she was boarding the train to Wellesley, Bart pulled her back from the train impulsively and kissed her once again. Then he held her from him.

I think, Ellen, he began, no, I know, he corrected himself, I’ve got the greatest girl in the world. He looked into the soft gray eyes. I love you, Ellen.

She reached up and ran a hand through the smooth blonde hair, admiring his handsome face. I love you too, she said, very much.

Well, he grinned, the usually serious blue eyes twinkling, what do you propose we do about it?

Ellen grinned back. Well, I don’t know about you, sir, but I’m going to enjoy it.

Then the blue eyes turned serious. This isn’t a time for joking, Ellen. You must know what I’m getting at. We love each other. My parents are terribly fond of you and I think yours like me too. He ran his hands up and down her arms lightly.

I’m looking down the homestretch of law school right now and I think we have some future planning to do.

Ellen rested her head briefly against his broad shoulder and then raised it to look up at him. Why don’t you tell me about my future?, she asked softly.

He grinned down at her. Well, of course, our immediate future, my dear, is exams, exams, exams. Let’s not forget those. He made a wry face. So we won’t be seeing each other for a few weeks, he continued, but after that, well... I want you to think about something very carefully until I see you again. What I want you to think about... to decide... Oh, damn, Ellen, I’m asking you to marry me. Think...

Ellen’s gray eyes twinkled and she hugged him. I don’t have to think about that, you idiot. Of course, I’ll marry you. What would my life be without you?

No, he shook his head firmly as he held her from him again. I’d really like you to think about it. Give it some serious thought. I’m asking you to marry me this year, after my graduation from the law school. It will mean giving up school or at least transferring. He paused to see her reaction. "I know that’s a lot for me to ask but I wouldn’t want to start practice in Chicago without you. It’s going to be enough of a grind without having to endure separation from you too.

And, of course, he teased, there’s the broader question of whether you can totally commit to the miserable life of an associate’s wife for God knows how many years. It won’t be easy.

What I can’t commit to is a life without you, she replied quickly, so there really isn’t anything to consider, is there?

He cupped his hands behind her neck and bent to kiss her tenderly. The tears in Ellen eyes spoke for her. Years later, in spite of all that followed, she would still acknowledge the moment as one of the most beautiful of her life.

The busy weeks which ensued were lonely ones for them both but no night passed without a telephone call. They were strangely exciting calls. Words of love with little importance but much meaning. No specific plans were made for the future. The business of exams was too pressing and in any event the intimacy of their commitment to each other was not something they yet wanted to sully with details of a practical nature.

Finally, the exams were over and Bart called with an invitation to join a group from the Law School on a four day ski trip to Vermont. Ellen welcomed the opportunity to celebrate freedom from scholastic pressures and the lively group, relieved to be free of exams, was in a relaxed and carefree mood as they collected Ellen for the drive north.

The lodge the group was staying at was a large rambling rustic building with seemingly endless corridors down ells which spread in every conceivable direction. The group was spread throughout the building and Ellen found herself in a single room in a remote section of one