Hot Ice

faltered. “I stand to lose every bit as much as you do, Doug. I want to see the papers.”
    He’d wondered when she’d back him into a corner. He’d only hoped they could be closer before she did. Abruptly, he realized he’d stopped looking for opportunities to ditch her. It seemed he’d taken a partner after all.
    But it didn’t have to equal fifty-fifty. Going to his pack, he searched through the envelope until he came to a letter that hadn’t been translated. If it hadn’t been, his deduction was it wasn’t as vital as those which had. On the other hand, he couldn’t read it. Whitney might pass on something useful.
    “Here.” He handed her the carefully sealed page before he sat on the ground again.
    They looked each other over, wary, distrustful, before Whitney lowered her gaze to the sheet. It was dated October, 1794.
    “Dear Louise,” she read. “I pray as I write this letter will reach you and find you well. Even here, so many miles away, word comes to us of France. This settlement is small, and many people walk with their eyes regarding the ground. We have left one war for the threat of another. Political intrigue can never be escaped, it seems. Every day we search for French troops, the exile of another queen, and my heart is divided as to whether I would welcome them or hide.
    “Still, there is a certain beauty here. The sea is close and I walk in the mornings with Danielle and gather shells. She has grown so in these last months, seen more, heard more than any mother can bear for her daughter. Yet from her eyes the fear is fading. She picks flowers—flowers such as I have never seen grow in any place. Though Gerald still mourns the queen, I feel, in time, we can be happy here.
    “I write you, Louise, to beg you to reconsider to join us. Even in Dijon you cannot be safe. I hear the stories of homes burned and looted, of people dragged to prison and to death. There is here a young man who received word that his parents were driven from their home near Versailles and hung. At night I dream of you and fear desperately for your life. I want my sister with me, Louise, safe. Gerald will open a store and Danielle and I have planted a garden. Our lives are simple, but there is no guillotine, and no Terror.
    “There is so much I need to talk with you about, sister. There are things I dare not write in a letter. I can tell you only that Gerald received a message, and an obligation from the queen only months before her death. It burdens him. In a plain wooden box he holds a part of France and Marie which will not release him. I beg you, do not cling to what has turned against you. Do not tie your heart as my husband has to what is surely over. Depart from France and what is past, Louise. Come to Diégo-Suarez. Your devoted sister, Magdaline.”
    Slowly, Whitney handed the sheet back to him. “Do you know what that is?”
    “A letter.” Because he hadn’t been unaffected, Doug slipped it back into the envelope. “The family came here to escape the Revolution. According to other documents, this Gerald was some sort of manservant to Marie Antoinette.”
    “It’s important,” she murmured.
    “Damn right. Every paper in here’s important because every one adds a piece to the puzzle.”
    She watched him secure the envelope in his pack. “And that’s all?”
    “What else?” He shot her a look. “Sure I feel sorry for the lady, but she’s been dead quite a while. I’m alive.” He put his hand on the pack. “This is going to help me live exactly the way I’ve been waiting to.”
    “That letter is nearly two centuries old.”
    “That’s right, and the only thing in it that still exists is what’s in a little wooden box. It’s going to be mine.”
    She studied him a moment, the intense eyes, the sensitive mouth. With a sigh, she shook her head. “Life’s not simple, is it?”
    “No.” Because he needed to take the lonely look from her face, he smiled. “Who wants it to be?”
    She’d think later, Whitney decided. She’d demand to see the rest of the papers later. For now she wanted only to rest, body and mind. She rose. “What now?”
    “Now…” He scanned the immediate area. “We make do with our accommodations.”
    Making a primitive camp deep in the trees on the hill, they ate Merina meat and drank palm wine. They built no fire. Through the night they took turns keeping watch and sleeping. For the first time since they began the journey together, they barely spoke.