Their New-Found Family

“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.