me one last mysterious nod, then walks swiftly down the platform until the snowfall wipes her silhouette from my vision.
“Mademoiselle, are you boarding?” the conductor calls out to me in French as he steps down from the train. His spiffy, royal-blue uniform and pristine white gloves are a welcome sight on this cold, frightening evening.
Just as I’m about to answer him, a second train rolls down the tracks to my right. This one isn’t as showy as the Orient Express, but it does have something I need—Samuel.
“The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express will be leaving in three minutes, Mademoiselle.” The conductor’s deep voice booms through the snowy night, but my eyes are glued to the other train as it squeaks to a stop in front of me.
Only a few passengers disembark at this late hour on Christmas Eve, and I am beginning to lose hope that Samuel is actually coming, when suddenly his dark five o’clock shadow—which is even more rugged than it was this morning—catches my eye.
My ex-boyfriend, my former love, and the man who I realize I cannot wait to see, bounds toward me, his green gaze cutting right through the blizzard of snow falling around us. I notice the relief in his eyes as he approaches me, but I don’t say a word. Instead, I take his hand and lead him across the platform to the Orient Express.
Releasing Samuel’s hand, I reach for the train tickets Madeleine gave me and hand them to the conductor. Like the snowflakes that whip violently around us with each gust of wind, Madeleine’s mysterious words continue to whirl through my head. I wonder how she knew I would need two tickets, and more importantly, I wonder what she meant when she said it is up to me to save them both .
“Jillian, what are you doing?” Snow dusts the shoulders of Samuel’s black overcoat as he shoots me a curious glance. “And what’s that box in your hands?”
The conductor checks the tickets, smiles, then gestures for us to board the train.
Ignoring Samuel’s questions, I take his hand in mine once more, and although I couldn’t explain it if I tried, I simply know that we must get on this train. I can feel myself getting closer to Isla. It’s a bizarre sensation—having this twin, this other half, whom I can be worlds apart from, but still feel her as if she’s right next to me.
I’ve felt this invisible, unbreakable connection to her for our entire lives. It was this connection that led me back home to her on the horrifying day when she almost lost her life at the hands of our own mother.
It was the day that forever changed our lives, the day when this bond we share, this connection, was the only thing that saved her.
Our connection hasn’t lessened with time. If anything, it is stronger, more powerful.
The train whistle sounds through the night, and I know it’s time.
My grip on Samuel’s hand tightens as I step onto the luxurious sleeper car. The minute I feel the heat blasting through the train and take in the scents of red wine and leather suitcases, I envision Isla boarding only a few nights ago. I can see the excitement in her violet eyes, her hand resting ever so gently on her tiny belly, protecting the even tinier baby that sleeps inside.
“Jillian,” Samuel says, the voice of reason in my ear. “I know what you’re thinking. But riding the same train that Isla took won’t magically take you to her. We’ve got a team on the ground searching—”
But the conductor cuts him off by slamming the train door closed behind us.
“Jillian,” Samuel says firmly. “Let’s go.”
“Mademoiselle, I believe you dropped this,” the conductor says, bending over to pick something up.
Inside his tightly fitted white glove is a sparkling emerald ring.
“It fell out of the box you were carrying,” he says.
But I’m unable to respond because I am totally and completely mesmerized by this ring.
The conductor hands the emerald to Samuel, and I notice that he too seems to be enamored with the
“Mademoiselle, are you boarding?” the conductor calls out to me in French as he steps down from the train. His spiffy, royal-blue uniform and pristine white gloves are a welcome sight on this cold, frightening evening.
Just as I’m about to answer him, a second train rolls down the tracks to my right. This one isn’t as showy as the Orient Express, but it does have something I need—Samuel.
“The Venice Simplon-Orient-Express will be leaving in three minutes, Mademoiselle.” The conductor’s deep voice booms through the snowy night, but my eyes are glued to the other train as it squeaks to a stop in front of me.
Only a few passengers disembark at this late hour on Christmas Eve, and I am beginning to lose hope that Samuel is actually coming, when suddenly his dark five o’clock shadow—which is even more rugged than it was this morning—catches my eye.
My ex-boyfriend, my former love, and the man who I realize I cannot wait to see, bounds toward me, his green gaze cutting right through the blizzard of snow falling around us. I notice the relief in his eyes as he approaches me, but I don’t say a word. Instead, I take his hand and lead him across the platform to the Orient Express.
Releasing Samuel’s hand, I reach for the train tickets Madeleine gave me and hand them to the conductor. Like the snowflakes that whip violently around us with each gust of wind, Madeleine’s mysterious words continue to whirl through my head. I wonder how she knew I would need two tickets, and more importantly, I wonder what she meant when she said it is up to me to save them both .
“Jillian, what are you doing?” Snow dusts the shoulders of Samuel’s black overcoat as he shoots me a curious glance. “And what’s that box in your hands?”
The conductor checks the tickets, smiles, then gestures for us to board the train.
Ignoring Samuel’s questions, I take his hand in mine once more, and although I couldn’t explain it if I tried, I simply know that we must get on this train. I can feel myself getting closer to Isla. It’s a bizarre sensation—having this twin, this other half, whom I can be worlds apart from, but still feel her as if she’s right next to me.
I’ve felt this invisible, unbreakable connection to her for our entire lives. It was this connection that led me back home to her on the horrifying day when she almost lost her life at the hands of our own mother.
It was the day that forever changed our lives, the day when this bond we share, this connection, was the only thing that saved her.
Our connection hasn’t lessened with time. If anything, it is stronger, more powerful.
The train whistle sounds through the night, and I know it’s time.
My grip on Samuel’s hand tightens as I step onto the luxurious sleeper car. The minute I feel the heat blasting through the train and take in the scents of red wine and leather suitcases, I envision Isla boarding only a few nights ago. I can see the excitement in her violet eyes, her hand resting ever so gently on her tiny belly, protecting the even tinier baby that sleeps inside.
“Jillian,” Samuel says, the voice of reason in my ear. “I know what you’re thinking. But riding the same train that Isla took won’t magically take you to her. We’ve got a team on the ground searching—”
But the conductor cuts him off by slamming the train door closed behind us.
“Jillian,” Samuel says firmly. “Let’s go.”
“Mademoiselle, I believe you dropped this,” the conductor says, bending over to pick something up.
Inside his tightly fitted white glove is a sparkling emerald ring.
“It fell out of the box you were carrying,” he says.
But I’m unable to respond because I am totally and completely mesmerized by this ring.
The conductor hands the emerald to Samuel, and I notice that he too seems to be enamored with the
Similar Books
