Free Catch Me If You Can by Juliette Cosway Page B

mother, apart from a few fleeting childhood memories. Now she also mourned the loss of the time she’d lost with her father.
    “You left me,” she murmured to their likenesses, “and it’s as if you took a part of me with you when you went, but I’ve come to realize you will always be with me for I carry you both in my heart and mind wherever I shall go.”
    Even though she thought all her tears had been spent, they welled again.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Six
     
    The Best Laid Plans
     
     
    Rivers heard someone call his name.
    He stood amidst their luggage and cargo, supervising its loading onto carriages and carts, readying for their departure from Genoa.
    It was Frieda’s voice.
    When he looked her way, Frieda beckoned from the hotel terrazzo. With one hand she gripped the ornate railing of the terrazzo. The other clutched a sheet of paper to her chest.
    “What is it? Are you ill?” 
    She shook her head.
    He wasn’t convinced.
    Her face had blanched, her expression stricken.
    “Please, could you come inside for a moment?” Her voice was weak and faltered to a halt.
    As he moved to join her, she turned away and walked back inside the building. He ran up the marble steps and followed her into the hotel lounge.
    She stood with her back to him and held out the page she held.
    When he took it from her, she dropped down into a leather armchair by the fireside. He scanned the sheet and he noticed Eleanor’s name at the bottom. He read quickly, his brow furrowing over the contents.
    James Craven was dead.
    He couldn’t believe it. As he reached the end of the letter, he walked over to Frieda and put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were dry but he knew she couldn’t look at him. Her thoughts were far away.
    She gestured to the table. “There is another letter. I haven’t opened that one yet.” 
    He picked it up and brought it to her.
    “No, you read it,” she said, when he handed it to her. “I cannot.”
    He sat opposite her, loosened his coat. The second letter had also been sent on from their hotel in Rome. He read it carefully, absorbing the contents. “My God, she can’t.”
    “What, what now?” Frieda asked.
    He reached for the first telegram again, comparing the date to that on the second. “Eleanor is traveling to California,” he said, his eyes still on the papers. He looked at her. “She’s traveling to New York in a few days time. She plans to travel across the land, retracing her father’s route.” 
    Frieda faltered as she grasped what he was saying, the implication of his words quickly filling her expression.
    “Not only that, but judging from this…” He looked again at the dates on the pages. “She may already have left Oaklands.”
    Frieda sank back into the chair, clearly trying to take in all the information.
    Rivers could only be grateful the correspondence had caught them at all. Their return passage to San Francisco had been delayed. They had detoured and traveled to Sardinia and Corsica, to take the opportunity to visit some ancient vineyards there. By rights, they should have been in California by now. They were due to sail out of Genoa for San Francisco the following morning.
    He stood and paced the room, trying to work out where exactly the time-space placed Eleanor on the journey.
    “Can we stop her leaving New York?” Frieda murmured.
    “We can try.” His thoughts moved beyond that. “She may not want to be stopped,” he added. He was thinking of his conversations with her, how keen she’d been, how fearless. He’d baited her then, amused by her spirit. He never thought it would come to this.
    “My God, I practically challenged her to do it,” he said, looking at Frieda in desperation. His stomach tightened. He’d wanted to be with her again, he’d wanted her to come to America. Not like this.
    “You didn’t know what would happen,” she replied, responding to the pained look in his eyes.
    “I can’t believe she’s going to do it.” He shoved his