Night Crossing
THE THIRD IN THE TRILOGY OF REMEMBRANCE
by
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NOTE: Please let me know if this passage will “fit”. If not, I will amend it.
As the ferry sank, Miss Trump clung to a fire extinguisher fixed to the wall. She was exhausted and nearly sinking under the water. Alexander swam to her.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he shouted, thinking she was frozen in panic.
“No, Alexander. I will not!”
“What? Why not?”
“Go! You must save yourself and the mother for the child and you have much work to do!”
Uncomprehendingly, he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous!” He grabbed her arms to force her but she fought him off with manic strength. Drowning man’s panic, he thought. He grasped her shoulders and tried to pull her from the fire extinguisher.
Again, she fought him off. “Let go of me! Stop it!” With her feet, she shoved herself back up the river of water now over her head. At first she thrashed but then seemed to calm herself. Alexander dove head first after her. Underwater, he grasped her knees and tried to pull her to him. He was amazed at her strength as she kicked hard and broke from his grasp. He rose up from the water which was now up over his shoulders. In the dark it was hard to see her. She sank once and then resurfaced, her face filled with mad determination.
Before she sank below the surface for the last time, he saw her smile. She called out over the rush of water, “Go save the mother! New life needs its mother!” He could do no more. Finally Alexander accepted that death was what she wanted.
He strained to see the top of her white-haired head in the gloom. He cried out in amazement. There it was—the cosmic egg, just as before, hovering over where she likely was. He was struck with awe at its sheer beauty and mysterious grace. A curious sense of joy and exhaustion infused every muscle and fibre of his body.
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About the Book
Magical light suffuses Alexander Wainwright’s paintings. But he must find something new. A vision of a golden sphere studded with gems appears before him—the cosmic egg, source of all creativity. Next day, his art dealer shows him an unsigned painting of the very same cosmic egg dedicated to a Parisian pianist, Dumont. Does the cosmic egg exist not just in Alex’s imagination but in the real world? That burning question drives Alex to take the ferry—a night crossing— from Portsmouth to Caen and then onto Paris to find the pianist and the artist. On that trip, the elderly Miss Trump, enters Alex’s life with myriad mysterious effects. The ferry capsizes. Alex tries to save her and a young mother and her child. Miss Trump drowns but mother and child are safe. When her body is mistakenly cremated, Alex is seized with an inexplicable sense of responsibility and carries the ashes with him to Paris where he simply comes across Dumont playing in a café. The pianist says the painter, Anton, is in St. Petersburg. Still determined to carry the ashes, Alex travels by train to St. Petersburg to find the artist. Stunning revelations await him. Learning far more than imagined, he finally understands the meaning of his vision and the true purpose of carrying the ashes across Europe. But when he returns to London, he may find that he has lost what he cherishes most—Daphne, his love and muse. This tale is about love so strong it transcends life and death. It’s about cruelty and compassion, life, art and the magic of creation. All told, it speaks of that yearning within us for what lies beyond.
About the Author
Mary E. Martin is the author of two award-winning trilogies: The Osgoode Trilogy and The Trilogy of Remembrance. She grew up in Toronto, Canada, where she lives with her husband. They have three children and two grandchildren.