run cold. It is as warm and alive as the sun beating down on the hot coals on a blazing summer day.
As I sit in the barracks, counting the days until my exit from the army, I envision you on that very first day. The day you swooped into my life without warning, an angel with curly brown hair and a dimple that drives me wild every time I see it.
You were wearing that sky-blue dress, the one that brings out the sapphire color in your eyes. All it took was one sweet smile from you, and I was yours. I always will be.
I’ll be waiting for you at the train station in Paris on Christmas morning, mon amour. Nothing in the world could stop me from being there to kiss you when you step off that train. It will be the best day of my life…the day I can finally call you my own.
I love you, Rosie Delaney.
Yours, always and forever,
Jacques
Before I can mutter a single word, Madeleine hands me an old photograph. I aim the picture away from the shadows and squint to make out the face of the young man in the photo.
“Turn it over,” Madeleine instructs.
When I do, the words staring back at me suddenly make me realize that my ties to this old love story run so much deeper than I ever could’ve imagined.
Jacques Chambord, 1937.
“But Jacques Chambord is… was my grandfather,” I say incredulously. “He was my mother’s dad, but I never met him. He died before I was born. And Rosie Delaney—she’s the girl that went missing in 1937, abducted from the Orient Express train, just like my sister.”
Madeleine nods. “Yes, your grandfather Jacques was at the train station that morning, as promised, but Rosie never stepped off the train.”
“Just like Isla and Christophe,” I whisper. “How did you get these letters? Did you know my grandfather?”
“When Rosie stepped on the train from this very station just before midnight, she chose to leave everything behind. Her family, her fiancé, her riches, everything. All to be with the one man she truly loved. The man she would’ve married, the man who was the father of the twins she was carrying.”
“Are you saying…?”
“Yes, Jillian. Rosie and Jacques were my and Georges’s parents. Only we never got to meet them. We were taken from our mother shortly after we were born. I was raised within the Morel family, told I was one of them, and Georges was given up for adoption. But I always knew I was different. I always knew they were hiding something. And just last year, I met Georges for the first time, and the puzzle pieces started falling into place.”
“What are you saying? That the Morels kidnapped you and Georges from Rosie? Do you know what happened to her? Who took her and who killed the other two women from that train?”
The train whistle blows a third time as it nears us, its wheels barreling over the snow-covered tracks. Madeleine shoots a glance at the glossy carriages that are quickly approaching, at the steam billowing into the night sky.
She grabs my wrist, her white gloves warm against my frosty skin, then lowers her voice. “I have to go now. They’re watching us, Jillian. You need to get on that Orient Express train tonight. The train will lead you to Isla. And the contents of this box will tell you everything else you need to know.”
Madeleine pulls two tickets out of the pocket of her navy-blue pea coat.
“Take these. You’ll need them to ride the train. And don’t stop until you find them. Do you understand me? Don’t give up.”
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about, Madeleine? Who’s watching us? Do you know who took Rosie? Are Frédéric and Senator Williams behind Isla’s disappearance?”
The shiny blue Venice Simplon-Orient-Express train pulls into the station beside us as Madeleine lowers her face to my ear. “It’s more complicated than that, but there isn’t enough time to explain. It is up to you to save them both , Jillian. This is in your hands now.”
She fits the lid firmly over the shoe box, gives
As I sit in the barracks, counting the days until my exit from the army, I envision you on that very first day. The day you swooped into my life without warning, an angel with curly brown hair and a dimple that drives me wild every time I see it.
You were wearing that sky-blue dress, the one that brings out the sapphire color in your eyes. All it took was one sweet smile from you, and I was yours. I always will be.
I’ll be waiting for you at the train station in Paris on Christmas morning, mon amour. Nothing in the world could stop me from being there to kiss you when you step off that train. It will be the best day of my life…the day I can finally call you my own.
I love you, Rosie Delaney.
Yours, always and forever,
Jacques
Before I can mutter a single word, Madeleine hands me an old photograph. I aim the picture away from the shadows and squint to make out the face of the young man in the photo.
“Turn it over,” Madeleine instructs.
When I do, the words staring back at me suddenly make me realize that my ties to this old love story run so much deeper than I ever could’ve imagined.
Jacques Chambord, 1937.
“But Jacques Chambord is… was my grandfather,” I say incredulously. “He was my mother’s dad, but I never met him. He died before I was born. And Rosie Delaney—she’s the girl that went missing in 1937, abducted from the Orient Express train, just like my sister.”
Madeleine nods. “Yes, your grandfather Jacques was at the train station that morning, as promised, but Rosie never stepped off the train.”
“Just like Isla and Christophe,” I whisper. “How did you get these letters? Did you know my grandfather?”
“When Rosie stepped on the train from this very station just before midnight, she chose to leave everything behind. Her family, her fiancé, her riches, everything. All to be with the one man she truly loved. The man she would’ve married, the man who was the father of the twins she was carrying.”
“Are you saying…?”
“Yes, Jillian. Rosie and Jacques were my and Georges’s parents. Only we never got to meet them. We were taken from our mother shortly after we were born. I was raised within the Morel family, told I was one of them, and Georges was given up for adoption. But I always knew I was different. I always knew they were hiding something. And just last year, I met Georges for the first time, and the puzzle pieces started falling into place.”
“What are you saying? That the Morels kidnapped you and Georges from Rosie? Do you know what happened to her? Who took her and who killed the other two women from that train?”
The train whistle blows a third time as it nears us, its wheels barreling over the snow-covered tracks. Madeleine shoots a glance at the glossy carriages that are quickly approaching, at the steam billowing into the night sky.
She grabs my wrist, her white gloves warm against my frosty skin, then lowers her voice. “I have to go now. They’re watching us, Jillian. You need to get on that Orient Express train tonight. The train will lead you to Isla. And the contents of this box will tell you everything else you need to know.”
Madeleine pulls two tickets out of the pocket of her navy-blue pea coat.
“Take these. You’ll need them to ride the train. And don’t stop until you find them. Do you understand me? Don’t give up.”
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about, Madeleine? Who’s watching us? Do you know who took Rosie? Are Frédéric and Senator Williams behind Isla’s disappearance?”
The shiny blue Venice Simplon-Orient-Express train pulls into the station beside us as Madeleine lowers her face to my ear. “It’s more complicated than that, but there isn’t enough time to explain. It is up to you to save them both , Jillian. This is in your hands now.”
She fits the lid firmly over the shoe box, gives
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