Dear Reader,

Their New-Found Family is a book very dear to my heart. When I was seventeen, I traveled to Europe on the Queen Elizabeth and experienced Hurricane Carrie, which made us two days late getting into port. I was on my way to boarding school in Lausanne, Switzerland, where I spent a glorious year learning French, meeting girls from all over the world and traveling through Europe on holidays. It’s inevitable that some of my experiences would make their way into my books. In the case of Their New-Found Family, it was a trip down memory lane, one I hope you’ll enjoy—especially because of the unique, special love between Rachel and Tris.

Rebecca Winters, whose family of four children has now swelled to include three beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high Alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. In addition to her favorite vacation spots in Europe, they often end up as backgrounds for her Harlequin Romance® novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.

Rebecca loves to hear from her readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her Web site at www.rebeccawinters-author.com

Their New-Found Family
Rebecca Winters

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

“UNCLE TRIS? Grand-pere just called. He’ll be out front in a minute to drive you to the train station.”

“I’m almost ready. How about you? Is your bag packed?”

Alain nodded. “It’s in the foyer. Wish I were going with you,” he muttered.

Tris didn’t like the situation, either. When his blond, twelve-year-old nephew was upset, his blue eyes grew soulful and he looked so much like Tris’s deceased elder brother, Bernard, it twisted something painful inside Tris.

“I’ll only be gone two weeks. You’re going to have a great holiday with the grandparents at Lake Como,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

Alain didn’t respond to the remark. His nephew had grown so morose this past week, it worried him.

“By the time I’m back, we’ll still have half the summer left to go camping and fishing. Enjoy this vacation. There’ll be a lot of guys your age to hang around with. I’ve arranged for Luc’s parents to let him join you for part of the time.”

“I know.”

Nothing Tris said made a difference. The two of them had been inseparable for the last year. Tris had hoped his nephew’s initial depression was a thing of the past. But knowing his uncle would be away for two weeks had changed the climate. Tris feared this separation was going to undo a lot of the progress Alain had made.

Since Tris had taken over the guardianship of his nephew who’d lost his parents in a car accident a year ago, the love he’d always felt for Alain had caused him to slip into the fatherly role without realizing it.

After the funeral, Alain had gone home to live with Tris at his house in Caux, a small mountain village high above Lake Geneva. The grandparents lived below them in the town of Montreux, Switzerland, where the headquarters of their company, the Monbrisson Hotel Corporation was located.

This was the first time since the funeral they would be apart for more than one night. Alain wasn’t the only one feeling the wrench.

“I’m going to miss you, too, mon gars.”

His nephew’s face closed up. “Do you have to go?”

Tris hated to see him this fragile again.

“It’s that, or jail.”

“They wouldn’t really arrest you, would they?”

“I’m afraid so. Not even a Monbrisson can escape. When you turn twenty, it’s every Swiss man’s duty. Remember, we don’t have an army, we are an army.”

“Do you hate it?”

“No. I’m looking forward to seeing a couple of my old friends from school.”

“I think it’s stupid. We’re never in a war. What do you do while you’re there?”

“We get to blow things up for fun.”

He’d hoped his comment would produce a smile, but Alain was too sad to see the joy in anything. The boy looked up at him through cloudy eyes. “Do you want me to find your suitcase?”

“Actually I’m taking my backpack.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Thanks. You’ll find it in the big storage cupboard in the hall.”

“Okay.” Alain left the bedroom. When he came back, he was holding two packs.

Tris glanced at the old, dark green one in surprise. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

Alain tested the weight. “It’s heavy.”

While Tris started putting clothes in his military pack, he watched Alain out of the corner of his eye. His nephew began opening the pockets of the other pack.

“Hey—your hockey skates, and a puck! It’s signed by Wayne Gretzky! I didn’t know you’d met him.”

“Neither did I,” Tris murmured in surprise.

“There’s a lot of junk in here.” It was the first sound of excitement he’d heard in Alain’s voice all week.

“You know what they say about one man’s junk being another man’s treasure.”

“Can I keep it?”

The request didn’t surprise Tris. His nephew was crazy about hockey though his parents had never allowed him to play it. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Thanks. Did you know you have a whole slug of tags collected from the various cantons?”

“That’s not surprising. I hauled everything around in that bag during my hockey years. For some reason I thought it had been tossed out a long time ago.”

Alain dumped the rest of the contents in the middle of the bed. “You’ve got a bunch of American and Canadian money in here. How come?”

“According to your grandparents, before my hockey accident in Interlaken, I played an exhibition match with my team in Montreal, Canada.

“After it was over, the team members flew home. But for some reason I wanted the experience of traveling on a ship, so I went on the QE2. Since it sailed from New York, I must have spent a couple of days there.

“The ship landed in Southampton. From there I traveled to London and caught a flight back to Switzerland where I joined the team for training in Interlaken. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

His nephew pored over the pile of stuff. “Here’s an envelope with a picture of the QE2 on it. You don’t remember anything about going on that ocean liner?”

“No. The concussion robbed me of those memories. All of them.”

“I don’t see how you could forget your trip.”

“Neither do I, but it happened. The doctor told me the brain is like a giant blackboard. The blow to my head from the hockey stick erased some of the writing. The two weeks leading up to the accident, and the month after, are gone forever.”

“That’s so weird. Hey—did you know some girl left you a message in English on the inside of this envelope?”

He paused in the task of packing his T-shirts. “What does it say?”

In his best English Alain read, “My love—I will never forget last night as long as I live.” He lifted his head. “Oh la la—Uncle Tris!”

Tris smiled, but deep inside he didn’t like the sound of it. “Dare I ask if that’s all she wrote?”

“Phone me ASAP,” Alain continued to read. “I’ll meet you wherever you say, Tris darling.”

Tris?

His nephew flashed him a surprised glance. “I thought no one but our family had ever called you that.”

Tris had to admit he was surprised, too. He’d been christened Yves-Gerard Tristan de Monbrisson. Except for family and one or two close friends, he was called Gerard. In professional circles no one would know him as Tris.

Tristan had been his mother’s romantic contribution to his full name. It had been an embarrassment to him in his youth, so he’d always kept it a secret. Yet he’d revealed it to the stranger who’d penned the note.

His curiosity fully roused, he said, “I’m almost afraid to ask if there’s more.”

“There is!” Alain declared. “You didn’t have to make me promise to wear your ring around my neck. Don’t you know there’ll never be anyone else for me but you?”

His ring? He’d never worn rings…except for one—a ring that had been presented to him by his hockey team.

That’s where it had disappeared to?

“Our love is forever. Like you, I’ll be counting the months until we’re married. All my love, Rachel.”

Tris stood there speechless.

He’d been involved with several women in the past whom he’d considered marrying. But in each case something elusive had always held him back from making a full commitment.

It was ludicrous to think that at nineteen, with only a year of university behind him, and a career in professional ice hockey in his future, he’d actually proposed to a girl. It didn’t sound like him to be that impulsive or reckless. Not at all.

Yet the stranger’s endearments, the mention of a ring and marriage—everything she’d said led him to believe theirs had been an intimate association, no matter how brief.

“What does ASAP mean?” Alain wanted to know.

“As soon as possible.”

He squinted up at him. “You don’t remember her even a little bit?”

A chill ran through him every time he was reminded of the period of his life which would always remain a total void. “Afraid not.”

“She put her address at the bottom. Le Pensionnat Grand-Chene, Geneve.” Tris felt his nephew’s gaze on him, eyeing him speculatively. “She must have felt awful when you never even called her.”

That kind of observation coming from a twelve-year-old revealed how much more insightful Alain had become since losing his parents. But in this case Tris needed to apprise him of a few facts.

“I’m sure she forgot me as soon as she got off the ship. At that age, you think you’re in love with every person you’re attracted to.”

Except that the mention of a ring he’d given her made a lie of what he was telling Alain. He wouldn’t have parted with it unless—

“You mean you were just pretending that you wanted to marry her?”

He let out a frustrated groan. “Alain—I have no idea what actually transpired, or what we said to each other.

“Sometimes in the heat of the moment people read things into situations because they want them to be true. That was years ago. The fact is, at nineteen I lived for hockey, not girls.”

“Maman and Papa fell in love when they were nineteen,” his nephew persisted.

“They were the exception because their attraction turned into a lasting love. There’s a big difference between that and hormones. You do know what they are?”

“Yes. Hormones get you in trouble, like having a baby before you’re old enough to be a good father or mother.”

“Exactly. Your parents taught you well. Don’t ever forget it.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love Suzanne?”

“Did your grandmother ask you to ask me?”

“Yes.”

Alain’s honesty was one of the qualities Tris admired most in his nephew.

“I thought so.”

“She says Suzanne’s been your receptionist for a long time, and that one day you’ll discover she’s the one you’ve loved all along.”

“Maybe your grandmother’s right, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m glad,” Alain said, looking relieved.

Tris was aware his nephew had a hard time sharing him with anyone else.

“Just so you know, I’ve always made it a policy not to date employees, Alain. Some day if you decide you want to come into the hotel business with me and your grandfather, you’ll understand why it’s necessary to separate our work from pleasure.

“When the right woman comes along, I’ll know it and do something about it.”

“Maybe this Rachel was the right one, and that’s why you’ve never been able to love anyone else, even though you don’t remember her.”

“That’s something I’ll never know. By now I’m sure she’s married and has several children,” Tris muttered, wanting to change the subject.

Alain’s comment shouldn’t have bothered him, but the fact remained that even though it had been twelve years, those six blank weeks of his life still haunted him.

He heard the horn honking, bringing him back to the present with a jolt. His housekeeper poked her head in the door.

“Do you wish me to tell your father to come in the house to wait?”

“Non merci, Simone. We’ll be right down.”

“Tres bien.”

One last pair of heavy tube socks stuffed into the top pocket of his military pack and he was ready.

“Sounds like your grandfather’s getting impatient. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” Alain put everything back in the pack he’d adopted. The two of them left the bedroom and went down the stairs to the front hall. Alain grabbed his suitcase and went out the front door to put his things in the trunk. Tris followed.

“Enfin!” his father said when he joined them with his pack.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Papa, but Alain and I had some man-to-man business to discuss.”

His father’s blue eyes twinkled as he looked at his grandson. “In that case, I understand.” He shut the lid of the trunk and they all got in the car.

The senior Monbrisson revved the engine before negotiating the steep, winding road that led down to Montreux. In the distance, the shimmering waters of Lac Leman reflected a pale blue. It was a sight Tris loved and never grew tired of.

Too soon they arrived in front of the gare. Tris levered himself from the back seat, then retrieved his pack from the trunk. He leaned inside the passenger window to kiss his nephew. “I’ll phone you every night to see how you’re doing.”

With tear-filled eyes, Alain caught him around the neck. The boy was suffering. Tris could relate.

One minute his brother and sister-in-law had been alive. In the next, they were gone. He still had a hard time believing it, so he could just imagine Alain’s pain knowing he’d never see his parents again.

But Tris recognized that right now his nephew’s greatest problem was the fear his uncle wouldn’t come back again, either.

“When I return, we’ll go camping. How’s that?”

Alain simply nodded.

While they hugged, Tris’s father sent him a silent message that said he would do everything possible to lift Alain’s spirits.

Raising him had become a family affair, yet everyone was aware the boy clung to Tris.

He walked around the other side of the car and kissed his father on the cheek. “Call me if things get bad,” he whispered.

After turning away, he strode swiftly toward the entrance to the train station. Besides his heart being torn having to leave his nephew, old demons had been resurrected by the note Alain had found in the backpack.

Over the years Tris had pretty well learned to control the panicky sensation of not being able to remember that period of his life.

But for no accountable reason, this new evidence of past events with a girl—apparently intimate events which had transpired without his having any knowledge of them—made him uneasy. He could feel one of those damn headaches coming on.

“Alain?”

“Oui, Grand-mere?”

“I’m going out in the garden to finish some weeding. I’d like to get it done before we leave for Lake Como in the morning. Do you want to help me?”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he called to her from the top of the stairs.

“Tres bien.”

The moment his grandmother’s footsteps faded, he rushed into the bedroom which had been his father’s growing up. He always stayed in there on overnight visits.

There was a phone on the bedside table. Alain hurried over to it and picked up the receiver to call Guy, his uncle’s assistant, on his cell phone.

“Bon apres-midi, Alain. What can I do for you?”

“I need your help, but you can’t tell Uncle Tris about it.”

“It will be our secret as long as it’s not illegal, immoral or dangerous.”

“Guy—”

“I’m teasing you. Go on.”

“Okay. I’m trying to help my uncle remember the memories he lost because of his accident. He worries about it sometimes.”

“I know,” Guy murmured. “I can’t say I blame him. It must have been very frightening to wake up in a strange hospital, not recalling anything that happened, and be forced to accept it. I admire him very much for his courage.”

“So do I. That’s why I’ve called you. I found out the name of a person who’d been with him right before he got hit with that hockey stick.”

“Tu blagues?”

“No, I’m not kidding.” He filled Guy in on what he’d discovered in the backpack. “I’d like to talk to her, but I need you to get some information for me first.”

“A shipboard romance, eh? This sounds intriguing. I’ll do what I can.”

“Good. Her name is Rachel Marsden.” He spelled it for him. “I think she’s Canadian or American. Anyway, she must have been a student. The address here says Le Pensionnat du Grand-Chene, Geneve. Do you think you could call the school and find out where she came from?”

“I’m afraid they won’t give me that information without a good reason.”

“You could tell them the truth, that you’re trying to help Uncle Tris recover his memory.”

“That just might work. You know something, Alain? You have your uncle’s shrewd instincts. Hold on while I see what I can find out.”

“Okay.”

Alain sat on the side of the bed and waited. It seemed to take forever until Guy came on the line again. “The secretary said that the student in question was from Concord, New Hampshire, in the U.S.

“I called the information operator and was given her family’s phone number. It’s different from the one on her original application to the school. Do you have a pen?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to give you the country and city codes, too.”

Alain wrote everything down. “Merci, Guy!”

“You’re welcome. Let me know what you find out.”

“I will.”

He hung up, planning to call the number tonight. By that time it would be late afternoon on the East Coast. Hopefully Rachel Marsden’s parents would be home.

Just as he reached the door to go downstairs and help his grandmother, the phone rang again. He dashed across the room to answer it, thinking it might be Guy calling because he forgot to tell him something.

“Hallo?”

“Alain?”

“Uncle Tris—” Guilt swept through him. “I thought you couldn’t call me until tonight.”

“I decided to surprise you and let you know I’d arrived safely.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“What have you been doing so far?”

Alain’s cheeks went hot. “On the way home from the train, Grand-pere took me to the boat show exhibit. What about you? How soon are you going to start blowing things up?”

His uncle laughed. Though Tris and his dad were completely different they sounded a lot the same over the phone.

“This week we’re starting out with mountain climbing maneuvers. The good part won’t come until the second half of training.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go anywhere.”

“Well I’m here now, and before long it’ll be over. How soon are you leaving for Lake Como?”

“Grand-pere said early in the morning.”

“Have you found out when Luc’s parents will be bringing him?”

“He called me a little while ago and said the day after tomorrow.”

“Then you don’t have such a big wait. That’ll be fun to have your best friend with you.”

“I guess. I hope you don’t get a headache while you’re gone.”

“I haven’t had one in several months.”

His uncle was lying. “That’s good.”

“You know what? You worry too much, but I love you for it.”

Alain’s eyes smarted. “I love you, too. Please don’t get hurt while you’re climbing.”

“I was just going to say the same thing to you. When you and Luc go out on the paddle boats, promise me you’ll wear your life jackets. Sometimes the wind comes up unexpectedly. I had a close friend die on that lake in a summer storm because he wasn’t wearing one.”

“I promise.”

“How are the grandparents?”

“Fine. I’m going outside in a minute to help them weed.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate your hard work and the company. I’ll phone again tonight after they’re back from their nightly walk and talk to all of you.”

“Okay. A bientot.”

“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Pearsoll.” Natalie Marsden dragged her duffel bag from the trunk.

“You’re welcome!”

“Phone me later, Nat,” Kendra Pearsoll called from the window.

“I will.”

Natalie ran up the walk to the porch of her grandparents’ Georgian styled house and let herself in the front door with the key.

“Nana?” she called out. “I’m home.” She hurried through the interior to the kitchen. Her grandmother had left a message on the fridge with one of the magnets Natalie had given her for her birthday.

She dropped her bag, then poured herself a glass of milk. While she drained it she read the note her grandmother left.

Natalie, I’m next door at Mrs. Bleylock’s, looking at her newest little grandson. I guess your hockey practice took longer than usual. Come on over and see how cute he is. Love, Nana.

She grabbed an apple and started for the front door. If she didn’t hurry, her mom would be by to pick her up before she could get a peek at the new baby.

She was halfway through the dining room when she heard the phone ring. It was probably her mom who’d left work and was letting her know she was on her way to pick her up. She retraced her steps to the kitchen and lifted the receiver.

“Hello?” she said, a trifle out of breath.

“Hello. Is this the Marsden residence?”

Whoever the boy was on the other end of the phone, he sounded foreign.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“My name is Alain. I’m looking for Rachel Marsden.”

“That’s my mom.”

“Oh. Is she there?”

“No. Are you sure you have the right number?”

“Did your mother once go to school in Geneva, Switzerland?”

Natalie blinked. “Yes.”

“Did she ever sail on the QE2?”

The mention of the ship gave Natalie butterflies on her insides. “Yes.”

“Then she’s the one.”

Her hand absently fingered the end of her long, dark brown ponytail. “How do you know about my mom?”

“By accident I found out she was on the same ship as my uncle.”

Natalie held her breath. “What was his name?”

“Tris Monbrisson.”

Natalie tried to stop the gasp that came out of her mouth, but she was too late. Her eyes suddenly stung with tears. She felt like she was going to suffocate from pain…and excitement.

Wiping the moisture from her cheeks she said, “If your uncle wants to talk to her, why doesn’t he call her himself?”

“I’m the one who wants to talk to her. He doesn’t know I’m phoning.”

Natalie’s breath caught. “Why do you want to speak to her?”

“I need to tell her the reason why she never heard from him after they reached Switzerland.”

Natalie’s heart pounded so hard, she felt sick. “That was a long time ago. I don’t think my mom would even remember him.”

“If she married your father, then I guess my uncle was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said she would have forgotten him the minute she got off the ship. I’ll hang up now.”

“No—wait!” she cried out. Dry mouthed she said, “What were you going to tell my mom? I want to hear.”

“At my uncle’s hockey camp, he got struck on the head by a hockey stick and went into a coma.”

“A coma—”

“You know. Where you sleep and never wake up?”

“I know what it means.” Fear shot through her. “I-is he okay now?”

“Yes. But when he woke up a month after his accident, he couldn’t remember anything.”

“You mean he had amnesia?”

“Yes. There are six weeks of his life wiped out of his mind. He never remembered playing hockey in Canada, or his trip back to Switzerland. Those memories are gone forever.”

“You’re kidding—”

“It’s the truth. You can call the Belle-Vue Hospital in Lausanne. That’s where bad head injury patients are taken. My uncle was there for a month!

“Ever since then he’s been troubled because he doesn’t remember anything about that time on the ship. Sometimes he worries so much, he gets bad headaches.

“I was thinking that if your mother called him to tell him about what happened while they were on board together, it would make him feel a lot better.”

“How did you learn she was on the ship with him?”

“I was looking in an old backpack in his closet and found a note she wrote him on the ship’s stationary. She put her address in Switzerland at the bottom. The school secretary said she came from New Hampshire. That’s how I got this phone number.”

“Oh my gosh— Listen Alain— Give me your number. I’ll tell my mom you want to talk to her.”

“Okay. Here are two numbers. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She’d reached for the pad and pencil her grandmother kept on the kitchen counter.

He gave her the information. While Natalie wrote down the digits, she could hear her mom honking out in front.

“I’ll be at the second number for two weeks starting tomorrow. Then I’ll be back at this one.”

“Okay.”

“Tell her to call me at this exact same time.”

“I will. Now I have to go. Goodbye, Alain.”

“Goodbye.”

She hung up and called her grandma at Bleylock’s to tell her she was going home with her mom. Then she hurried out to the car where her mom was waiting.

“Hi, honey!”

“Hi, Mom.” Natalie leaned across the front seat to kiss her cheek.

“Before I left the office, Steve called,” her mother said, reversing to the street. “He’s taking us out to dinner tonight at the Brazilian Grill, so we’re going to have to hurry to be ready on time. Friday nights mean a long line. If we’re there early, there’ll be time for a movie after.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Her mother flashed her an anxious glance. “You look a little flushed. What’s wrong, honey? Don’t you feel well?”

“My stomach’s kind of upset.” It was the truth.

“Well I’m not leaving you if you’re coming down with flu. It’s going around.” She reached out to touch her forehead with the back of her hand. “You feel warm. That settles it. I’ll call Steve and cancel.”

“Don’t do that yet, Mom. I’m not sick the way you mean, but I do need to talk to you in private before we go anywhere.”

In a few minutes they’d reached the house. She hurried inside. Her mom followed with the duffel bag Natalie had forgotten.

The concern in her parent’s eyes had turned them a dark green, providing a contrast with her blond hair that made her more beautiful than any of her friends’ moms.

When Natalie first met Steve, she’d heard him tell her mom how gorgeous she was. Even Kendra’s dad had told Natalie, “Your mother’s a real knockout.”

Tris Monbrisson must have thought so, too. He’d asked her to marry him twelve years ago. But for that accident…

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT’S wrong, honey?” Rachel Marsden put the bag on the floor.

“I have something to tell you. I think you’d better sit down.”

At her daughter’s tone of voice, a chill invaded Rachel’s body. “Why? Does this have anything to do with your grandmother?”

Rachel’s father had passed away two years ago. Her mother had taken it hard, but Rachel had thought she was doing a lot better these days. It would be unbearable to lose her mother, too. Rachel wanted her around for a long, long time.

“No—this doesn’t have anything to do with Nana.” After a slight hesitation she said, “Mom? While I was over there, someone called trying to find you.”

Her brows knit together. “Who?”

“Alain Monbrisson.”

Alain Monbrisson? Just hearing the name made Rachel feel faint. “That’s what Tris called his baby nephew.” She put a trembling hand to her throat. “I don’t understand.”

“Did you once write my father a letter on the ship’s stationary?”

A moan escaped Rachel’s lips. “Yes.”

“Well, Alain found it in his uncle’s old backpack. He tracked you down through your school in Geneva and then phoned Nana’s house. She was next door, so I answered it.”

“Oh, no—”

“Don’t worry, Mom. Alain doesn’t know his uncle is my father. He thinks you’re married and I’m another man’s daughter.”

“Honey—I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant,” Natalie broke in, sounding older than her eleven years. “The reason Alain was calling was to tell you about the terrible hockey accident that happened while my father was at hockey camp in Interlaken.”

An accident—

“Sit down, Mom—you look like you’re going to be sick.”

Rachel felt sick. She sank down on the end of the couch. “Tell me what he said.”

As she listened to her daughter, she started to tremble and couldn’t stop.

Tris had been in a coma?

“Alain thinks that if you phoned his uncle and filled him in about your time together on the ship, it would ease his mind concerning the period of time he doesn’t remember. Hopefully it will help cut down his headaches.”

Tris could have died and Rachel would never have known. She buried her face in her hands.

“I was afraid to tell you about this because it changes a lot of things, Mom. I always thought my father was a horrible man to have hurt you the way he did. But now I know he didn’t do it on purpose, I want him to know he has a daughter. Maybe he’ll want to meet me. What do you think?”

What do I think?

With one phone call, the world Rachel had built so carefully for her and Natalie had just come crashing down around them.

She could hardly comprehend the fact that a block of amnesia was the reason Tris had vanished from her life.

If his nephew hadn’t found that note, they would all still be in the dark. Unfortunately Natalie had been given enough information that it would take an act of nature to stop the rising tide of hope in her heart.

To be united with her father had always been Natalie’s dream, though she’d never expressed it verbally to Rachel.

Before Rachel did anything about the situation, she needed clarification on one certain point. It required talking to Alain Monbrisson herself.

She raised her head, smoothing the hair from her face. “Natalie, honey? Would you bring me Alain’s phone number please?”

Her face glowed with excitement. “I’ll be right back.”

Rachel reached for her purse and pulled out her cell phone. When Natalie returned with the paper and pointed to the second number, Rachel started punching the digits.

She checked her watch. It was four in the States, making it around ten in Switzerland.

After three rings someone picked up. “Hallo?” said a young male voice.

“Hello. Is this Alain Monbrisson?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Rachel Marsden. I understand you were trying to find me.”

“Hello, Ms. Marsden. Thank you for calling me back.”

She couldn’t fault his manners or his English.

“My daughter just told me of your conversation. I must admit hearing about your uncle’s accident has come as a shock. We can all thank God he survived it.”

“Yes. He could have died.”

Rachel swallowed with difficulty. “Tell me something, Alain. Does he know you found the note I wrote him?”

The words she’d penned had poured straight from her heart.

“Yes. I read it to him while he was packing this morning.”

She clutched the phone tighter. “But it was your idea to phone me, not his?”

“Yes.”

His honesty came as an enormous relief. “Is he aware you phoned my parents’ house in an effort to locate me?”

“No. He’s gone away on a trip.”

“I think you’re a very special person to care about him. But much as I understand why you want to help your uncle, the need to talk to me has to come from him, not you.

“It’s been twelve years. He’s a thirty-one-year-old man now. If he were still that curious about his past, he would have followed up with a phone call to me.

“But he didn’t because he’s been on the road to recovery for a long time and believes it’s better to leave things alone. I tend to agree with him.

“Some things in life are better left alone. So let this phone call between us be the end of it. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes,” came the quiet answer. “I won’t tell him I talked to you or Natalie.”

“Thank you. I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll see it’s the right thing to do. Are you familiar with the American expression, ‘Let sleeping dogs lie’?”

“No.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he’s alive and well today. I’m very happy for him and your family. Thank you for the call, Alain. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

They both clicked off.

“How could you, Mother?” Natalie cried, white-faced.

Rachel steeled herself to stay in control. “I did what I had to do. Did Alain read you the note I wrote to your father?”

“No,” she said, tight lipped.

“I’ll tell you what it said.” She gave her daughter the word by word account. “Even knowing what I’d written to him, your father didn’t act on the information.

“He could have tried to contact me, just like his nephew did, if only out of curiosity. But he didn’t. Instead—according to Alain—he went away on a trip not the least bit interested in following up.”

Her daughter’s face crumpled before she ran into her arms. Rachel absorbed the sobs that echoed in her own soul.

“I know this is so hard, honey.” She kissed Natalie’s hair and cheeks. “But we have to look ahead, not back. Don’t you see? Your father’s mind is a blank in regards to that period of his life. He’s moved on, and probably has a wife and family.

“What’s done is done. Too many years have gone by. That’s how he honestly feels, otherwise he would have phoned us instead of his nephew making the call. What more proof do we need, huh?”

“I guess we don’t,” Natalie answered in a strangled voice. She finally pulled away and wiped her eyes.

“Come on. Let’s get ourselves ready to go out to dinner.”

Natalie hung back. “Mom? Do you like Steve?”

“Yes, but I haven’t been going out with him very long.”

“Do you think you could love him the way you once loved my father?”

“Honey, every relationship is different. Steve’s growing on me.”

“But it’s not like it was when you first met my father.”

She sucked in her breath. “No. Nothing will ever be like that again.”

Natalie eyed her intently. “How come?”

“Because I was eighteen, impressionable and totally naïve about love. But I want you to know it was the best thing that ever happened, because I have you. You’re my whole life! I love you so much you’ll never know.” She hugged her tightly again.

“I love you too, Mom.”

“I know it’s hard but let’s forget this phone call ever happened.”

“Okay.”

“Hey—Tris—”

Tris was standing on the crowded quai, impatiently waiting for the train to pull into the station. At the sound of Claude’s voice, he turned in his direction. His childhood buddy came running up to him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you since lunch. I just got off the phone with Giselle. Why don’t you come home with me this weekend? Her friend Helene is visiting from Neuchatel. She’s a real babe.”

He smiled. “If my nephew weren’t waiting for me, there’s nothing I’d like more.” Since the funeral he’d been too preoccupied trying to help Alain cope to pursue an active social life.

His friend sobered. “How’s he doing?” he asked as the train came into view.

“According to my parents, he’s made it through these two weeks without falling apart.”

“Sounds like progress.”

“Of a sort. Thanks for the invite, Claude. Let’s plan a ski trip in early December. By then I’m hoping Alain will be able to handle the separation better.”

“I’ll count on it.” He patted his shoulder. “Bonne chance.”

Tris nodded. “Give my best to your wife. Take care, mon ami.”

Relieved to be getting back to Caux, Tris boarded the train and looked for a seat. When he couldn’t find one he stood in front of the window at the entrance of the voiture, staring blindly at the passing landscape.

He had no doubts Giselle’s girlfriend lived up to Claude’s description of her. But even if it weren’t for Alain needing him so desperately, he wouldn’t have taken Claude up on his invitation.

Since hearing the words of the note Alain had found in the backpack, Tris had been haunted by them.

She must have felt awful when you never even called her.

Alain had said a mouthful. There hadn’t been a moment in the last two weeks that Tris hadn’t wondered about his relationship with Rachel Marsden.

He checked his watch. The train wouldn’t reach Montreux for another hour. Time enough for him to call Geneva and make a few inquiries.

Perhaps the Pensionnat du Grand-Chene was still in business and could provide him with a little information about one of its former students. If the school no longer existed, he would have to let it go.

The operator found the number and within seconds he was put through to the directrice. When Madame Soulis came on the line he introduced himself.

“Monsieur Monbrisson! It’s an honor to talk to you. I saw you on a recent television program about the expansion of your hotels in France. It was very impressive.”

“Thank you, madame.”

“How can I help you?”

“I’m inquiring about a student who attended your school twelve years ago.”

“Twelve you say? Just a moment. I’ll bring up that year on the computer.”

“She was a friend of mine, but we lost track years ago and I don’t have her old home address. Would it be possible for you to check your information for me?”

“Bien sur. What was her name?”

“Rachel Marsden.”

“Rachel? Ah, oui. She was the lovely blond American girl who came to us in the fall. I remember her particularly because she became ill and returned to the States after only a few months.”

The revelation sent an involuntary shudder through his body. Having to think fast he said, “That explains why I couldn’t reach her.”

“Yes. We were very sorry to see her go. She was an excellent student. Here is the number and address of her parents, Dr. and Mrs. Edward Marsden. As I recall, he was an eye surgeon.”

Tris jotted down the information. “Merci, madame. You’ve been of immense help.”

“Pas de quoi, monsieur.”

When they hung up, he immediately called the international operator for New Hampshire to find out if Dr. Marsden still had the same phone number as before.

There’d been a change.

He wrote down the new number, telling the operator not to connect him. It was only seven in the morning on the East Coast. He’d give it another half hour, then call.

Before he clicked off, he asked the operator if a Rachel or an R. Marsden were listed. To his surprise there was a listing with an R. It could belong to either sex, of course. Nevertheless he took down the number before hanging up.

A certain percentage of married professional women used their maiden names for business purposes. In a few minutes he would check it out first before trying to reach her parents.

The train rounded a curve and passed through a tunnel. The darkness reminded him of that one portion of his life he couldn’t remember.

Some friends from his old hockey team had long since filled him in on the time they’d spent together in Montreal. His family and doctors had been able to account for everything that had happened to him at his training camp and the subsequent accident that had put him in the hospital in Lausanne.

It was the time in between…the time on the ship and the period before he arrived at Interlaken that had eluded him all these years. In a while it was possible he would be able to talk to the woman who’d known him well enough to call him Tris.

When the train came back out into the sunlight, he should have felt a sense of relief that before the day was done, one phone call might give him closure on his past.

Yet a new dread had attacked him since learning Rachel Marsden had returned to the States a few months after arriving at the school because she wasn’t well.

My love—I’ll never forget last night as long as I live.

That one line from her note resounded in his head, causing him to break out in a cold sweat.

“Mom? Kendra’s dad has come for us.”

“Okay, honey. Have a great day. I’ll pick you two up at the rink after hockey practice.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“I love you.”

Rachel heard the front door close.

She finished brushing her hair, then slipped on her suit jacket, not wanting to be late for work. Rachel had fixed the girls’ breakfast after their sleepover, not realizing how late it had gotten.

After a quick glance around the bedroom, she hurried downstairs to get her purse which she must have left in the kitchen. When the house phone rang, she assumed it was one of Natalie’s friends who’d just missed her. She reached for the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Marsden residence?” The deep male voice on the other end spoke with only the slightest trace of accent, yet it sounded vaguely familiar.

She stirred uneasily. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for a Rachel Marsden. Do I have the right number?”

“W-who is this?” she cried softly.

After an extended silence, “Does the name Tris mean anything to you?”

Suddenly Rachel’s legs grew weak. She started to tremble as memories came flooding back.

It was Tris.

People could age, but that was his voice, his fingerprint. Its unique timbre resonated in every particle of her body, overwhelming her. He was actually alive, speaking to her from the other end of the phone line.

“H-hello, Tris.” Trying to control her panic she said, “I guess it was too much to expect that your nephew would be able to keep his promise.”

There was another pause. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Please don’t pretend you didn’t realize Alain already called me two weeks ago. H-he told me about your amnesia,” she stammered, mortified by her loss of composure.

“I’ve been away on army maneuvers. Though I’ve phoned him every night, he never mentioned that he’d been in contact with you.”

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to recover her equilibrium. “Are you saying you made the decision to call me all on your own?”

“Bien sur,” he drawled with quiet irony. When he spoke in French, it was like she’d gone back in time where everything sounded so much more intimate.

“While I was preparing for my trip, Alain rummaged through an old backpack of mine and came across a note you’d written to me on board the QE2.

“I intended to track you down, but I couldn’t do anything about it until my military stint was over for the year.”

“And now it is?” Rachel’s voice shook despite her efforts to keep it steady.

“Yes. I’m on my way back to Montreux right now and will be getting off the train in a few minutes. Alain will be waiting for me. Be assured I will have a frank discussion with him about why it was wrong to take matters into his own hands.”

“No—” she cried out.

“No, what?” he demanded with a ring of authority in his voice reminiscent of the younger Tris who’d exhibited a powerful personality even back then.

She moistened her lips nervously. “I asked him not to tell you. He promised it would be our secret. Since he kept his end of the bargain, please don’t say anything to him about it.”

“Why did you feel you had to swear him to silence?”

Her heart jammed into her ribs. “I was very touched that he loves you so much, he wanted me to help you fill in the blanks of your memory. But I told him that it should have been you who called me if you felt the need. Since you hadn’t done that, I thought it best to forget the whole thing.”

“You did an effective job of getting through to him,” he murmured, increasing her guilt. “Aside from the fact that I don’t approve of what he did, I find your reaction even more curious.”

Her eyes closed tightly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“If we were simply two college students who enjoyed each other’s company aboard ship, I’m interested to find out why you’re so frightened, you couldn’t be open about it with my nephew.”

“Frightened?” Perspiration beaded her hairline.

“Yes. Shall I tell you about my conversation with Madame Soulis, the directrice of your school in Geneve? According to her you became ill and had to leave Grand-Chene after only a few months.”

He knew.

Rachel almost collapsed.

Tris was no ordinary man. His genius was apparent whether he was captain of his hockey team, or head of a multimillion dollar family business.

The Monbrisson name was renowned throughout Europe, all because of his instincts which made him a force to contend with in the corporate world. He would never let this go now.

“Tris? You’ve caught me as I was walking out the door to work. I’m afraid this isn’t a good time for the kind of discussion you want to have. If you cou—”

“Don’t let me keep you,” he interrupted her. “The next time we talk, it’ll be in person,” he declared, sending a frisson of alarm through her body.

“No—please—” she cried, needing space to think, but he wasn’t giving her any.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard pure terror in your voice.”

Ignoring his astute observation she said, “No one deserves closure more than you do. I’m so sorry about your terrible accident, and I would be happy to meet you somewhere to answer any questions you have.”

“I’ll make this easy for you and see you at your house tonight.”

She groaned inwardly. There was no stopping him. “I-I have plans for this evening. If you could wait until tomorrow, I’ll take time off from work.”

“Bien. I’ll be in Concord this evening and will call you to make final arrangements. A bientot, Rachel.”

“Uncle Tris!”

As Tris stepped off the train, his nephew came flying. They gave each other a bear hug.

“Where are your grandparents?”

“In the car at the back of the station.”

“Good. Why don’t we get a drink before we join them? I’m thirsty.”

“So am I. It’s been hot for the last few days.”

“It was warm where I was, too.”

They made their way inside the gare to the food counter. Tris bought them two sodas. They wandered over by the windows away from everyone else to drink them.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“So am I, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave again for a few more days. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

A pained expression broke out on Alain’s face. “When do you have to go?”

“As soon as I can change clothes and pack a bag.”

“Did Guy say there’s an emergency at one of the hotels?”

“No. I’m flying to New Hampshire to meet Rachel Marsden.”

The bottle almost fell out of his nephew’s hand. “You are?”

“Yes. I phoned her a little while ago. She’s expecting me tonight.”

His nephew suddenly averted his eyes, the telltale sign of his guilt. “Did she tell you I called her?” Alain asked, working the toe of his sandal against the floor.

Tris drained his bottle and put it in the receptacle. Alain followed suit. “Not exactly. She thought I was phoning because you’d broken your promise to her.”

Alain’s head reared. His eyes looked suspiciously bright. “I wouldn’t have.”

He tousled his nephew’s hair. “I know that. What I don’t understand is why the directrice of the school didn’t tell me you’d phoned her wanting the same information?”

A resigned sigh escaped Alain’s lips. “Guy got it for me from the school receptionist.”

His nephew was not only determined, but resourceful. “So…now my assistant is in on this, too.”

“Yes, but he swore he would never say anything.”

“He kept his promise.” When Tris had phoned Guy for an update on business, his assistant had been mum on the subject of Alain.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No. I think I’m very lucky to have a nephew who would go to the lengths you did to help me remember my past.”

Alain’s relief was visible. “Ms. Marsden asked me to leave it alone.”

“Do you know why?”

“She said something kind of weird.”

“What was that?”

“I shouldn’t wake up a dog if it’s sleeping.” He cocked his head. “What did she mean?”

“Can’t you guess?”

His eyes squinted up at him. “Because it might make it mad for being bothered?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“But you’re not mad.”

If only Alain knew… So many destructive emotions were bombarding Tris, he couldn’t put a name to them.

“Let’s just say that now I’ve talked to her, I’m anxious to meet her and clear up some questions I’ve had.” He put a hand on Alain’s shoulder. “Come on. The grandparents will be wondering what’s keeping us.”

“Wait—”

“What is it?”

“You were right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You know how Rachel promised there’d never be anyone else for her but you?”

“I remember.”

“Well, she broke it just like you said she would.”

“You mean she’s married.”

“I guess she already told you. She has a daughter, too.” He kept on chatting. “Her name’s Natalie. She’s the one who answered the phone when I called.”

Tris felt the impact of his nephew’s words like the grenade that had exploded a little too near him during one of the mock raids.

Mon Dieu.

Ever since Alain had read him the note, he’d been plagued by a sense of unease where his relationship with Rachel Marsden had been concerned. Since speaking with Madame Soulis, he’d entertained certain suspicions.

After talking to Rachel, he was in no doubt.

He’d made her pregnant.

Why else had she been so desperate to keep things hushed up.

Was Natalie his flesh and blood?

Rachel could have had several children by now. If his child were alive, the eldest would be Tris’s son or daughter.

Then again, she might have given up their baby for adoption, or miscarried…or heaven forbid, ended her pregnancy. Whatever the answer, he could scarcely comprehend it.

“Uncle Tris? Are you all right?”

“Of course,” he lied. “I’m just anxious to leave for the States so I can meet Rachel Marsden and get filled in on my past.”

“I wish I could go with you.”

He grimaced. “I wish it were possible, but this is something I have to do alone.”

“I know. I’m glad you’re going to find out what happened. Maybe then your headaches will go away.”

Tris repressed a groan and hugged his nephew.

“I swear I’ll be back in time to take you camping tomorrow afternoon. For the time being, I’ll tell your grandparents some unexpected business has come up I have to deal with.”

“Okay.”

Before they went out to his parents’ car, he phoned his pilot in Geneva and told him to get the jet ready for takeoff.

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