Part 17

Miranda's shoulders are so rigid, she feels her trapezius muscles will rupture. She and Andrea sit in a part of the train to London where they're alone. It has just started to pick up speed. The closest passenger is well out of earshot. This is why she's so tense, Andrea expects to be informed about what's going on and as they're virtually alone, Miranda is running out of excuses.

To Miranda's surprise, Andrea doesn't jump at the first opportunity. She merely gets comfortable and settles into her seat after stowing her carry-on bag on the overhead shelf. Their trip will take about four hours, which means they will reach London around five pm.

The silence draws out between them, and it is Miranda who caves first. Not sure if this is Andrea's plan all along, though Miranda doubts she's that calculating.

"You have questions," Miranda says, finally.

"I do." Andrea shifts, almost sitting with her back to the outer wall. "It seems to have very little to do with me, but I'm clearly involved somehow, judging from the photo you talked about."

"I already told you I know Rosalee since we were children." Miranda has lowered her voice to be careful. "We had a friend, the same age, maybe a year or two older, named Iris. She died not long ago. Rosalee suspects that someone else among the ones we knew back then might be out to cause us harm. In what way, I don't know, but if this is the case, they're trying to intimidate Rosalee, and clearly, someone has followed you and me in Paris." Miranda was hoping it was only in Paris. The idea of someone stalking her, or them, in New York, turns her stomach.

"And this person, were they a grownup when you and Rosalee were kids?"

"No. They will have had to be a child too. One of the girls we knew." Her thoughts still on the horror of having to deal with this even in New York, makes Miranda speak before she edits her words.

"A child then who still holds a grudge?" Andrea frowns. "That doesn't sound plausible."

Oh, a lot about this didn't sound plausible at all. Miranda pushed her fingers through her hair. "I know." She doesn't know what to say, and definitely not how to say it. "There are events in my past that defies logic, Andrea. I never share any of this because the only time I did…let's just say, it didn't end well. I know I can't ask you for such a leap of faith, and it's seriously ironic that not being able to tell you, requires just that from you, another leap of faith."

"Okay." But it's not okay for Andrea, Miranda can tell. She's still frowning and holds her arms tight to herself, her fingers laced hard. "So, what can you tell me? I mean, you did say you were going to explain."

Miranda's mind whirls. "This phone is a burner phone, you've realized that. I've also destroyed my old passport and I'm traveling under another name. If someone refers to me as Miranda St. John, don't be too shocked."

Andrea blinks but doesn't speak. Oddly, her clasped fingers have relaxed some.

"This is because I've had to disappear before, change identities, and so on. I'm always traveling with three passports and three burner phones. It's necessary. I have to be prepared at any given moment. Not exactly ideal, but after all these years, I'm used to it."

"How long have you had to do this? Disappear?" Andy places a hand on Miranda's knee. The touch is warm, and Miranda relaxes against the backrest. Her shoulders still hurt, but she can breathe better.

"For most of my adulthood, you could say. A long time."

"Which means you've had to give up friends and family several times." Andrea's eyes well up. "That must be so horrible."

"Yes. Several times." Miranda has to fight back a burst of humorless laughter that wants to erupt. Several times is an understatement. "That's why I normally don't allow myself to go beyond casual friendship these days. Though I admit, my company and my employees are all more than that."

Slipping her arm behind Miranda's shoulders, Andrea tugs her closer. "And casual friendship, is that what we share?" Her voice trembles, but she's not taking her eyes off Miranda.

Miranda leans in, fast and hungry now, and presses her lips to Andrea's. She runs her tongue along those plump lips, wanting in, but still controlling herself enough to ask. "Andrea?" she whispers against Andrea's mouth.

Andrea parts her lips and pushes the fingers of her free hand into Miranda's hair, holding her in place. She takes over the initiative and Miranda finds herself completely devoured. She surrenders, what else can she, and for these precious moments, she allows the pretend world of 'anything is possible' to exist in her mind. She wants to sit like this with Andrea, kissing, caressing, and not think about anything else. Not work. Not the faceless individual who stalks them, and not the fact that even if this was the case, she cannot be with Andrea, or anyone else.

They slow the kisses down, passion turns to tenderness, and with that, reality sets in. "Darling," Miranda says, only realizing how she began the sentence, after the fact, "this is unwise. You're irresistible, but I can't allow for you to—"

"As your explanations are so damn cryptic, and being on a train isn't ideal, I insist on another attempt at an explanation." Andrea smiles softly. "If you think I'm going to let you fend for yourself, even if you have throughout your life so far, you are mistaken. When we get to London, we'll find a typically touristy, horrible youth hostel or something, and there you'll tell me everything."

Miranda is at a complete loss for words. This is the Andrea she's only glimpsed before. The one who isn't intimidated by Miranda, or anyone, she wagers, and who obviously is stubborn as hell. "You don't understand."

"Then you have to make me understand. Because until you do, I'm not going anywhere." Andrea pushes Miranda's bangs out of her face.

"But there's no way I can explain things. You have to take my word for that." Miranda is angry and frustrated now, but mostly because a part of her, a part she thought had died ages ago, has sparked the terrible, heart-crushing sensation of hope in her heart. Can she explain in a way that won't turn Andrea's look of affection, perhaps even more than that, into one of scorn or loathing? She doubts it. That scenario has played out a few times before, which Miranda doesn't care to repeat—especially not with Andrea.

"Do you trust me, Miranda? I mean, do you have faith in my willingness to keep an open mind?" Andrea gives her a quick kiss.

Miranda's breath catches. "I believe in your good intentions. This goes beyond that."

"It doesn't matter. I think you have carried this alone for far too long, whatever it is. I think this can be the turning-point. Please, Miranda. Let's go to that youth hostel or a small hotel, and we can talk."

There is honey in those soft, cognac eyes. Miranda wonders if Andrea has ever looked at another woman this way. She somehow doesn't think so. "You will end up regretting this," Miranda whispers, "and I will too. I had planned for the possibility that you might be this stubborn. I was going to slip away in the London crowd and leave you behind with the ticket to New York."

"I think I guessed that." Andrea's lips tremble. "I tried to think of plans to stop that. Cuff myself to your wrist came to mind."

Miranda smiles against her will. "We'll go and continue the talk, but not at a hotel. I happen to have a small condo in London that is not in my name." She clears her throat. "Now, I need you to promise me, that when you decide to leave, and you will decide that, you'll go to Heathrow and get on a flight instantly."

"When?" Andrea shakes her head. "I'll go so far as to say 'if I decide to leave', I'll promise to do what you ask. If."

Miranda pulled Andrea closer and they settled into more comfortable positions. Fully relaxed now, as Andrea had promised, Miranda knew there was no if—only when.

xxxxx

Continued in part 18