Christmas with Her Ex

‘What?’

‘Give you the tickets. You have serious control issues.’ She shot him a penetrating glance. ‘Thinking of other things, were you?’

Lord, he’d forgotten how easily she read him. ‘No.’ He took the tickets she offered. ‘And thank you,’ he added, his voice dry. This journey could prove very tiresome if Winsome decided to tease him for most of it.

He moved into line behind a young woman buried in what looked like a 1940s ankle-length trench coat two sizes too large for her, and the fur of the collar was pulled up around her ears. When she darted a look at him all he could see was the bridge of her nose under her dark glasses and the thick black hair scraped back off her high forehead.

‘Buon giorno,’ he said.

‘Buon giorno,’ she whispered back, and turned away.

Maybe she was a very young secret agent? This trip had the makings of a farce already, he thought sardonically, and glanced ahead to another older lady around his grandmother’s age, though not as well looking come to think of it, accompanied by a younger woman.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. That could be an answer. Distract Gran with a kindred spirit. Maybe arrange to have them sit together at dinner. He glanced at the girl. She had a nice smile so even if Gran tried to pair him off with someone else, it wouldn’t be too bad. Anywhere away from Kelsie Summers.

Truth be told, he didn’t understand why he was dwelling on such a chance encounter with a woman he’d once fancied in his youth. Well, maybe a little more than that but it wasn’t like he’d carried her with him for all these years—or been celibate. Far from it.

Neither had he found anyone else he could think of joining his life with, a sardonic voice inside suggested, and he impatiently brushed that thought away. A full-time relationship was the last thing he required. He seriously didn’t have time.

The line moved forward and he wondered idly where the luggage for the woman in front was.

Which made him shoot a glance back at where Kelsie’s Suitcase-asaurus Rex was, and decided it was the biggest damn thing he’d ever seen and even she’d have trouble losing that. He wondered if she knew she couldn’t have it in the cabin with her and then shrugged.

And why was that his problem? What was wrong with his brain today? Thankfully the line moved forward and he directed his thoughts to move on too.

His eyes drifted back when the line stopped again. Her suitcase was still there. Might have been a stretch to think that someone would steal it anyway but…

She was back. Sitting next to his grandmother, and they looked like they were having a lovely conversation. He groaned and tried not to crush the tickets in his clenched hand. Kelsie had always been a great listener. He turned back to the line.

Insidiously, while he stared at the back of the head of the woman in front, his mind drifted to all those plans they’d had when he’d been young and stupid. Plans he’d built in his head during those impressionable teenage years that you never seemed to forget. No matter how hard you tried. The only one he had ever shared them with had been Kelsie because she’d been so much a part of his life then.

The first plan had always been—marry Kelsie. Keep her safe.

Then—become a doctor.

The third—take her to Venice on the Orient Express when they could afford it, because it was the one thing she really did have a fantasy about.

God, he’d been so stupid. he shook his head and returned to the present as the line moved forward again. But there had been other plans and he guessed he’d at least achieved them.

He was a research-based obstetrician. Dealing with infertility. Well respected. His gran would say world renowned but he would have said he was more recognised for being happy to share what he’d learnt. He’d been very busy during the last fifteen years so it was no wonder he hadn’t married.

Gran had informed him she despaired he’d find a wife before she died. No doubt she was pretty keen to see it happen but as far as he was concerned there were a lot of research projects he’d be happy to leave the family fortune to.

In fact, he had a horrible feeling this whole trip had some romantic connotation he was missing and it wasn’t really about diverting Gran’s mind from her recent loss. Something along the lines of if he wouldn’t marry for good sense then he’d better marry for love.

Couldn’t see it happening on a damn train but she’d muttered about some bloke she’d fallen for in her distant past whom she’d met on this train, and he just hoped the old man hadn’t turned in his grave when she’d dropped that little bombshell.

His grandfather had been the father he’d lost the same year he’d lost Kelsie and he’d always thought his grandparents perfectly matched at least. Funny how things in life weren’t always as you expected.

Like meeting Kelsie again after all these years.

CHAPTER TWO

KELSIE GLANCED AT her watch. Ten thirty-five and the train left at ten fifty-seven. She should find her carriage but seriously she wasn’t ready to sit down just yet.

Winsome and her grandson had boarded, and Kelsie carried her tiny overnight satchel—thank goodness for outrageously expensive wrinkle-free clothes—and she tried to slow her agitated feet to an inconspicuous amble.

She’d been almost the last to get her ticket, mainly because she’d wanted to stay well clear of Connor, and had walked up and down the platform ostensibly admiring the ornate carriages but really walking off her agitation at seeing him again.

Connor Black. She’d loved him like a brother since fifth grade when he’d moved from being annoying to mysteriously compelling. Not that all boys had been mysterious—just Connor.

For an only child, having Connor as her friend had seemed an impossible dream, until he’d come across her being bullied by a mean-streaked older boy who’d found the purse she’d lost one afternoon, late in the spring. She could almost smell the scent of falling orange blossoms, and blood, in the orchard where it had happened.

The ensuing bout of fisticuffs had left Connor with bruised knuckles and the other boy with a black eye and split lip, for which Connor had received a caning from the school principal the next day. The thought still made her cringe because it had been her fault.

But Connor had shrugged it off as no account and her hero-worship had been sealed.

She glanced into a window of the train and her reflection smiled ruefully back at her. He’d looked so heroic, his shirt torn, his eyes narrowed as he’d warned the other boy, his gentle grasp of her hand as he’d led her away.

For the rest of that year he’d taken to walking her home, the absolute best part of her day, and she’d never felt unprotected again, even when Connor had gone off to boarding school, because the letters between them had kept them close. Because home hadn’t been such a grand place, with her mother gone and her dad not much use at conversation unless it had been to give an order.

Her dad had expected her to follow the rules, and had been worse since Mum had finally rebelled and left. Although thankfully the fighting had stopped, her dad was so distant Kelsie had felt rudderless in the world until Connor. She’d wash up, do the housework and her homework, and take herself off to bed at dark, and dream of escaping to the city with Connor.

Except for Connor’s correspondence, hers had been a lonely existence, lightened when holidays had come around and Connor would find her and the two would slip away to dream together.

Connor had always been full of dreams. His real mother had drowned in a tragic accident when he’d been twelve and he was always going to be a doctor, always going to save the world. And Kelsie had believed him.

When Connor went to university they would marry. Elope, Connor said, because everyone would say they were too young.

But she was content to wait until Connor said it was time and she began to have dreams of her own. To be a nurse. To be free of her father’s dictatorship. Be with Connor and gladly follow him to the ends of the earth. He’d arrange everything because that’s what he liked to do, and it was easier to say yes.

Finally the day arrived. Her dad forbade her to leave, Connor had forbidden her to be late, and the similarities suddenly dawned on her. Had she been using her romance to escape her father’s control, only to fall into the same trap?

It was an uncomfortable thought that wouldn’t go away now that it had surfaced. It was all so confusing when Connor had been so good to her.

He’d secured rooms for them near his new university, the registry office was booked, and he’d bought her a short white dress for her to wear on the train when she travelled to meet him. He’d admonished her not to daydream and miss the train. Not to lose the ticket. As if by mentioning it he could influence the vagrancies of fate.

She thought about that. And then the doubts crept in just as the hands of the little watch Connor had bought her crept closer to the time they would meet.

She loved Connor. Could see the goodness in him. How much he cared about her. But was she ready to tie herself to another man who would run her life for her so completely? Was she always going to make Connor sigh when she needed rescuing?

Was that what she wanted?

If she was having these thoughts, was it fair to rush into this and maybe one day do what her mother had done and abandon ship?

Of course she didn’t want that but she knew if she tried to explain some of these thoughts to Connor, he’d brush them away as nerves.

But the seeds of doubt grew into full-grown wisdom trees on the train as she twisted the hem of the white dress between her fingers and watched the stations flash by.

Until, finally arriving, Kelsie hung back.

She loved him. The man was a serious hero. Too much of one to spoil his chance of the career he was destined for by dragging him back by her doubts. Or expect him to marry her just because he’d proposed in an impulsive moment. So she sent a note saying she was safe but she wasn’t coming.

They were both too young and she wasn’t able to contemplate being a burden on him. Plus there was the matter of her threatened independence. He deserved so much more but she hadn’t been brave enough to tell him.

She had already seen herself frustrate him when she lost things, seen his doubts after he’d impulsively proposed, knew how much easier it would be for him to realise his dreams of becoming a doctor unencumbered by a young, unskilled bride.

The next day, after a lonely night in a sleazy motel she ran to her only other relative, her mother’s much older unmarried sister, a midwife in Sydney, and that’s when her life really began to change.

She’d come a long way since then. A long way.

All the way to Venice.

Kelsie blinked at the reflection in the window—the face staring back at her wasn’t hers. A woman, eyebrows raised in disapproval at her invasion of privacy, stared back haughtily and Kelsie blinked. Wake up.

Her cheeks heated as she walked away. She’d been staring into the past—not the window. If she didn’t watch out she’d spoil her once-in-a-lifetime trip worrying about a man who had every right to hate her.

Because maybe she should have waited to find out if Connor had agreed with her reasons. Talked about it with him. But by then it had been too late, and she’d lost touch and the confidence that he would forgive her.

And her career had taken off until the serene, confident maternity unit manager she’d become barely resembled the young girl who’d run away instead of getting married. Except for the occasional misplaced item when she was tired.

Kelsie strode purposefully up to the immaculately presented, blue-suited guard, his quaint round porter’s hat stiff with its gold-trimmed peak, the whole confection jammed importantly on his head. She presented her ticket as he held out his white-gloved hand.

‘Welcome to the Orient Express, madam.’ He bowed, took her satchel, assisted her up the steps like precious cargo, and once she was safely aboard gestured for her to follow him up the narrow wood-panelled corridor.

Finally aboard the Orient Express, she could feel a smile plastered on her face.

‘Come this way, please.’

The air inside swirled pleasantly cool around her still-hot cheeks and hinted of different perfumes and metal polish and cedar oil and old wood. Kelsie couldn’t help glancing into the cabins as she followed him, interested in her fellow passengers, she assured herself, not nervously checking for Connor, and most of the passengers looked up and smiled back.

The cabin before hers held a young woman who seemed huddled in her coat, but the door was pulled shut as soon as she passed.

Kelsie winced. She was going to have a good time if it killed her or she had to kill somebody else—namely Connor Black for making her doubt herself.

The conductor stopped at her cabin and gestured grandly. ‘Your seat, madam.’

Kelsie obediently sat. Not quite sure what she was supposed to do as the conductor gently hung her satchel on a big brass hook.

He stepped back, facing her, and smiled, his teeth even and white, his blond hair crew cut around his ears. ‘Allow me to introduce myself.’ He bowed again. ‘I am Wolfgang. Your steward.’

Volfgang, she repeated to herself with an inner smile.

His English was precise and she guessed that, unlike herself, he was probably fluent in several languages. ‘I vill be caring for your needs, and those others also in this car, on our way to Calais. There you vill change for the Tunnel crossing.’ His precise English and accent matched his name and he suited the surroundings so appropriately, she had to smile, outwardly this time.

‘Thank you, Wolfgang.’ Kelsie perched on the long tapestry seat. The hanging neck pillows suspended by tapestry cords divided the seat into two. She realised she’d been lucky enough to face the direction they’d travel, thank goodness, and maybe she was even the single occupant for the next thirty-six hours. Hmm. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

No. It was a good thing. She would imagine Agatha Christie with her and breathed in as she replaced the smile on her face.

Everything was perfect.

The little cabin was perfect, even prettier from the inside than it had looked when she had peered through the windows, and she noted there was only one crystal champagne flute on the pristine embossed Orient Express coaster on her tiny table so she probably did have the cabin to herself.

She sat in solitary splendour, surrounded by the different-coloured woods of the parquetry wall panelling as they glowed with light, and she noted more brass hooks holding the deep blue silk bathrobes and velour slippers, one of which she could don should she wish to slip into something more comfortable. How decadent. Though perhaps not, especially at eleven in the morning.

‘Observe there is a sink for washing your face and hands if desired.’ Wolfgang pressed a lever and the tiny bench opposite transformed into a basin and taps. ‘There is a water closet at both ends of the car.’ He stared at a point at the top of the window to avoid meeting her eyes. ‘It is preferred that passengers refrain from use while the train is at a station.’

Good grief. Now, that’s a salubrious thought. She chewed her lip to hold in a laugh as she nodded. ‘Of course,’ she murmured.

He inclined his head. ‘Then excuse me. When our journey begins I will return with champagne and also to record your preference for the first or second dinner sitting.’

Kelsie was tempted to ask which sitting the Blacks were on so she could choose the other but contented herself with, ‘Thank you.’

She sat for a minute longer, trying to decide what to do when he left.

‘Acqua Panna.’ Kelsie sounded the words out on the complimentary water bottles on the bench of the washbasin hidey-hole. ‘Acqua has to be water.’ She picked one up, cracked the seal and took a sip as she surveyed the amenities.

Facecloths, a hand towel, a beautifully boxed cake of soap she might just keep to remind her of the journey, toothbrush and paste, an art deco folder holding postcards and embossed VSOE paper and envelopes.

Now she’d pretty well covered the contents of the cabin.

She put the bottle back and stared at the angled wooden divide opposite. They were really quite snug, these compartments, standing room only before the wall of the adjoining cabin. Someone coughed next door and she heard it quite plainly but couldn’t distinguish the voices.

At least she didn’t have an infectious companion locked in with her. She grinned to herself just as the train whistle shrieked a warning of departure.

Kelsie stood and reached hastily for the table to steady herself as the carriage jerked, and peered out the window. They were easing out of the station. Her grin was back and the excitement of finally fulfilling her dream made her want to laugh.

When she poked her head out of her cabin door other occupants had crammed into the corridor and were watching through the windows opposite as the world shifted, and she could imagine the wheels on the tracks below them begin to turn and pick up speed. They slipped past two bushy islands on their little spit of railway tracks on the way to the mainland of Italy.

With a sense of urgency to take just one last look at Venice, she squeezed past an older couple in the tiny corridor and walked to the far end of the carriage, where she was able to pull down the sash window on the door she’d entered the train by.

When she leaned out the cold wind blasted her face and she could see Santa Lucia station disappearing into the distance.

She looked the other way and a dark-haired man had his head out the window half a dozen carriages up. A very familiar face turned her way and Connor Black surveyed her coolly.

Only one thing to do. Kelsie waved.

CHAPTER THREE

CONNOR PULLED HIS head in and ran his hand through his hair. He’d stuck his head out to blow thoughts of Kelsie Summers away. Fine chance of that now!

At least she wasn’t in their car—she was in the last one—and he hadn’t wanted to know that. He just hoped they’d chosen the right lunch sitting to avoid her.

Funny how much importance avoiding Kelsie had assumed. He hadn’t spent that much brain activity on a woman for years and far too much on her today.

When he returned to their connected double cabins the steward was there.

He waved away the offered champagne. ‘No, thank you.’

His grandmother gasped and leant forward to take the glass.

‘For goodness’ sake, Connor. If you won’t drink it, I will.’ She waved at the man and the obliging fellow bowed and put the second glass next to the other one.

Great, Connor thought. Now Gran was going to get tipsy and she’d be uncontrollable. This trip was assuming nightmare proportions. ‘I’ll drink it.’

‘Good.’ His grandmother sat back smugly and he realised he’d been conned and she’d never intended to have two glasses. He sighed and had to smile. She winked.

‘Much better. You don’t lighten up enough, my boy.’

He narrowed his eyes at her but he couldn’t stay cross. She was a minx. ‘It’s my training. Normally, I’m responsible for people’s lives.’

‘You’ve thought you were responsible for people’s lives since you were a child. Makes you bossy.’ His grandmother shrugged that away. ‘You’ve been too responsible for too long. You’re becoming downright boring.’

Connor froze in the act of sipping and frowned at her. Did she mean that? Nobody else had complained—but, then, who else was there to complain?

There was a distance between him and most people that he’d acquired early, since the loss of his mother and advent of his stepmother, to be precise, and had never lost. His patients wanted him to optimise the course of their pregnancies. Fertility assistance required set boundaries of safety and precautions. Still, her comments seemed a bit harsh. ‘You don’t know the real me, Gran.’

‘Hmph.’ She snorted and he looked at her quizzically. So older ladies really did that?

She snorted again just to prove it. ‘Hmph. Nobody knows you. Except maybe that girl at the end of the train.’

So this was what it was all about. And how the heck did she know where Kelsie was sitting? He’d bet Winsome had bribed the porters already, though goodness knows when as he’d only been gone a few minutes. The she-menace had probably rung the bell as soon as he’d left.

She knew them all by name because she’d been on this train every year for the last twenty years with his grandfather. Her yearly birthday trip in February she’d missed this year because of his grandfather’s death.

That had really knocked her badly and Connor, alarmed his grandmother might just fade away with grief, had hired a nurse to look after her for a few weeks to ensure she ate enough to survive. She’d begun looking much like her old self since he’d agreed to share a last journey on her favourite train.

But he was very aware this was her first Christmas without her husband and they’d decided this was as good a way as any to get over the lead up to festivities on her own.

So this was effectively a ten-month delay on her birthday train trip.

He didn’t understand how she didn’t get bored.

He was halfway there already, and it would be worse if it wasn’t for the unexpected arrival of Kelsie Summers, and they were only a few minutes out of the station.

He sighed. So she was all over the fact that Kelsie was here! He should have known.

He enunciated carefully, as if to a child, ‘You’ve blown it all out of proportion. She was a kid at my school and I was like the big brother she never had.’

His grandmother nodded and he could tell she wasn’t listening.

She proved it. ‘When you came to me you told me you’d been going to marry her.’

‘Childhood nonsense. An impulse.’ He shrugged. ‘The girl is nothing to me now.’

She nodded, all sweetness and light, and his head went up. ‘I’m pleased. I wouldn’t like to see you upset.’

For some reason he didn’t like the sound of that, or the way she’d said it. She glanced out the window and then back again and a horrible premonition hit him just before her next words.

‘So it should be fine with you that while you were admiring the view I sent her an invitation to join us for lunch.’

Kelsie’s golden envelope arrived, along with her glass of champagne, its embossed VSOE paper and the spidery writing giving a clue to its origin. She’d bet it came from Winsome.

Wolfgang hovered as she opened it and glanced at the bottom. Sure enough, the flamboyant W rolled into an exuberant salute. ‘Please. Come!’

An invitation to join them for lunch at the first sitting. Fun. Not! How the heck did she answer this?

‘Perhaps I should return for your answer in a few minutes?’ Wolfgang wasn’t slow on the uptake.

She guessed he’d been exposed to many such missives and their impact.

Kelsie smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Wolfgang.’ His head disappeared from the door and Kelsie looked down at the embossed paper again. So how did she decline politely?

She sipped her champagne, the golden fluid so surprisingly light and dry that the bubbles jumped and tickled her nose until she took it away from her mouth and looked at it. So this is what the other half drank?

Like drinking golden sunshine—no hardship at all—and she needed the courage to make a decision so she took a bigger gulp.

Or maybe she should go? Maybe that was what needed to be done. Surely inside Connor Black there was still a vestige of the hero she’d admired as a young girl and that man might understand her adolescent thinking all those years ago. He’d been her best friend and she had let him down.

The perennial questions of youth had been so important back then.