Chapter 10

TGV Lyria, August, Sunday—Present Time

In the early afternoon, we took the Yellow Line Metro No. 1 from Saint Paul to Gare de Lyon train station. The early twentieth-century building with its large clock tower was a busy travel hub on a Sunday. I thought it rather resembled a tropical beach inside, with the sunlight pouring in through the domed ceiling and settling on the tall palm trees arranged all throughout the platforms. Silver trains zoomed quietly in and out like large dolphins, and school groups, families, and business travelers floated in as ocean waves.

We picked up my cheap Loisir fare for the high-speed TGV Lyria at the sales kiosk. The adrenaline pulsed through me as I anticipated arriving in Bern in just under five hours. I needed the fast train. I only had five days left to figure out the ring’s mystery. As my train pulled into the station, Pauline and I exchanged quick kisses and, with a pang of regret for not spending more time with my friend, I said goodbye to Paris.

I found my seat with no difficulty. I still had only a small carryon and a backpack, which now held the Kocher book wrapped carefully in tissue paper. The train took off slowly from the station and glided through the suburbs of Paris, revealing a graffiti-covered, tenement-like side of the city, with laundry hanging on ropes between the buildings. It wasn’t unlike the apartment building complexes in Odessa, where Ella and I grew up in Ukraine.

Thoughts swirled in my head. What exactly was I going to do when I got to Bern? David’s face jumped into my memory. I took out his brother’s travel book and decided to look up the universities in Bern. My girl was a medical student—I was certain of that, at least. I found the right pages and began to read carefully.

Ouch! My head had hit the window with a bang. I always did tend to fall asleep on trains. I sat up, heat rising up my neck and spreading to my cheeks. I peeked with embarrassment at the seats across from me. Someone slept across both seats, his head covered with a suede jacket. I stretched my neck, which was stiff from falling asleep in an uncomfortable position. The travel book, still open to the University of Bern page, lay on the table, pages lifting up and down with each puff of the air conditioner’s fan above my head.

I checked my phone. I had been asleep for about two hours. The window scenery still showed only trees flying past at dizzying speed. At some point, the train would slow down to go through the Alps, and there would be a lovely view, but, clearly, we were not there yet. A couple passed near my seat with snacks and sodas, and my stomach rumbled. I slowly walked to the restaurant car, enjoying the feel of the slight rocking of the floor beneath me. The restaurant held a few tables but was mainly a bar selling alcohol, sodas, and snacks. I bought a cheap muffin with the change I had in my pocket, gave a quick glance to the tables occupied with happy couples and families, and decided to eat back at my seat.

As I started walking back, the train suddenly jerked, and I tripped very neatly on someone’s foot, landing sideways on the table.

“Darn,” I muttered, picking up my muffin from the floor while rubbing my injured side. Stumbling through a hasty apology in a mix of English and broken French, I looked into the passenger’s face and took a step back.

“Are you stalking me?” I hissed.

“What?”

He was smirking. David Fischer was definitely smirking!

“You knew I was going to Switzerland!” I said, the pain in my side forgotten. “Did Pauline tell you which train I was on?”

“No, she didn’t tell me. I’ve had the ticket for two weeks.”

“Sure you did! Are you laughing at me?” I couldn’t believe it! He was laughing now!

“I’m laughing because you keep falling on me, yet you’re standing there with your hands at your hips, all indignant, accusing me of stalking you!”

I put my arms in my pockets. I was beginning to feel slightly ridiculous standing in the middle of the dining car, causing a scene. People had been staring, for lack of anything better to do, but looked bored now as it seemed like our fight was not going to pick up in intensity.

“Look,” David said calmly, “I’m going to a family reunion. Why don’t you sit down?” he offered.

I tried to think of a way to walk away gracefully but felt at a loss for words. I sat down on the edge of the seat across from him. My blood was still boiling.

“How do you have family in Switzerland? Didn’t you say you were from New York?”

“My family came to America from Bern about a century ago, and they like to get together with their Bernese relatives every few years,” he explained calmly.

“Well, you still don’t look like a lawyer,” I said.

“It’s Sunday?” he said, raising his brows.

“Well, most lawyers I’ve met looked conservative even on Sundays. You’ve got this whole jeans and T-shirt look that doesn’t work for a lawyer.”

“What do you have against lawyers, anyway? You get this disgusted look on your face when you say the word. Have you lost your inheritance due to an attorney or something?”

“Do I look like someone who’d have an inheritance?”

“No, not really. But that’s why I thought maybe an attorney was involved.” He winked at me.

I actually laughed at that. “Nope. Never rich enough to hire an attorney. I’ve just dated enough lawyers to realize I don’t match very well.”

“Oh, I get it. We—lawyers—are conservative, precise, by the book. You consider yourself a free-spirit, liberal, and all that,” he said.

“You know,” I said, getting up, ready to walk away, “I really don’t think this was a good idea. I’m going back to my car. And you’d probably love to go back to your first-class seat.”

“Wait. I’m sorry. I really am.” He touched my arm lightly with his hand. “Can we start over? I’m really not such bad company, I swear. Stay for a drink at least. I’d like someone to talk to. This train ride is really boring.”

I ignored the jolt my body seemed to feel whenever he touched me. I hesitated, then sat down. “Fine. So tell me, what kind of lawyer are you?”

“I’m an environmental attorney. I was in Paris working on some contracts for a company that wants to make sure it’s not contributing to climate change.”

“Environmental? I had no idea there were environmental lawyers. How exactly is this company trying to avoid impacting the climate?”

“Well, many companies are trying to go green now. The CEO of this one, ALB Industries, wants to make sure they use renewable energy and give off lower emissions.”

“And how are they going to do that?”

“What I am mainly assisting them with is drafting contracts to ensure that the land near the company doesn’t get damaged. There are some wetlands and forests that could be affected, and the company wanted some say in how this will be handled by the French side of the business.”

“So—how did it go? Did the French cooperate?” I asked.

“They sure did. They are helpful when it comes to working on environmental issues. It went faster than I expected, actually. That’s why I’m able to make it to Bern to see the family.”

“Sounds interesting. I had no idea lawyers could have an impact on the environment. And you get to travel too,” I said.

“Thanks,” David said, smiling. “I hope you despise lawyers a little less now.”

He leaned back in his seat, his arms behind his head, stretching while looking out the window. I struggled to take my eyes off his face, so handsome and so strangely familiar to me. He looked back, catching my eyes, examining my face now. I began to fidget and busied my hands with unwrapping my pathetic-looking muffin.

“Are you going to eat that? It looks disgusting,” David said.

I sighed. “No. I think I can wait until Bern. Hopefully, food is better there.”

“You’re welcome to share my dinner.” He pointed to his paper bag, from which he proceeded to remove a small baguette, a round box of Camembert, and a bottle of Bordeaux.

“Do you always travel like this?” I asked, watching him expertly slice the baguette and the cheese with a pocketknife.

He grabbed a few glasses from the bar and poured the fragrant wine. After a few slices of fresh bread with cheese and a glass of wine, I suddenly felt much more relaxed. David pointed to the window, where the scenery began to change as the train finally slowed down through the Alps. We stared at the bright greenery on the mountains quietly for a long time and sipped the wine, until he startled me with a question.

“So, why Bern?”

“I told you, I heard it was pretty,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

“If you wanted to see Switzerland, you’d be going to Geneva. Bern is too small a city to attract visitors. No one goes to Bern as a first stop unless they have a pretty good reason.” His eyes searched mine. “Don’t trust me enough to tell me, huh?”

“I just met you yesterday. And it’s quite likely you are a stalker,” I retorted.

“Hey, you are the one who keeps falling on me! Strange coincidence!” He raised his wineglass to me.

Meaningful coincidences, Nicolas had said. That’s what synchronicity was. Like meeting someone in Paris and then seeing that person again on a train to Bern. But what would be the meaning of this coincidence? I don’t like or need this guy, except maybe for some more of his wine and snacks.

“How long will you stay in Bern?” David asked.

“Two, three days.”

“And where are you off to next?”

“Back to Paris and then home.”

“Back to your residency? Didn’t you say you were doing pediatrics?”

“I was. I am.” I struggled to swallow my sip of wine.

“Bern is great. You’ll like it. The Old City has a bit of a magical quality to it. Did you look over my brother’s book? It has some fantastic pictures of the city center.”

“I actually did. I saw the clock.” I didn’t tell him I had only read a few pages.

“Where are you staying?”

“I think that’s none of your business, is it?” I raised my brows.

“I just want to make sure you’re staying in a safe place. August crowds can get a bit crazy, and some hotels are not appropriate for a beautiful single woman.”

“I don’t need a chaperone, thanks.”

He leaned over the table, his face was close to mine. Very close. His hand, holding the wineglass, was next to mine. Was he flirting with me? Did he just call me beautiful?

He swirled the wine, then leaned even closer, his eyes mere inches away. “I have a dinner planned with my relatives tomorrow night, but I’m free otherwise until Friday. Would you like me to show you around? I think it’d be fun for two New Yorkers to hang out.”

I hesitated. The thought of walking around an old town in the company of this man who stirred so many feelings in me was both appealing and incredibly frightening. I wanted to, badly, but knew I couldn’t possibly allow it. My life was just too complicated at the moment.

And then—he would definitely ask more questions that I didn’t wish to keep answering.

“I like to travel on my own. I’m sorry.” I got up before the flirting got to the point where I couldn’t resist him. “I better get going. Thanks for the food and the wine.”

“Wait! Here.” He took out a pen from his shirt pocket and a small notebook and wrote down numbers. “This is my cell. Call me if you change your mind. I mean it.”

I thanked him and walked away in relief. I desperately needed to get to the bathroom and wash my face with cold water. And then convince myself to throw away the phone number.

In the end, though, I didn’t do either. I went back to my seat and stared out the window, going through all the logical reasons in my mind for why I should never talk to him again.

I’d had enough failures lately; there was no reason to risk my heart. This man really seemed like a great candidate for breaking it. I was on a mission after all. I had only a few days to solve a puzzle and I needed to focus.

But then I felt his phone number, tucked safely into my pocket.