Last Train to Istanbul Read Online Free Page A

to the American college. Both sisters grew up speaking English and French fluently.
    Macit remembered how impressed he was, many years ago, when he first saw his fiancée reading poems by Baudelaire and Byron. Even his mother, God rest her soul, had been impressed. “Just the sort of wife who would be right for a diplomat,” she had commented.
    Selva’s voice brought him back to reality from where he had been lost in his thoughts. “Will Turkey join the war then?”
    “No, she won’t.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “We are doing our best to see to it that she doesn’t. We certainly can’t afford another war, Selva.”
    “Macit…There is something I need to ask.”
    “Please do.”
    “My father? Will he—will he ever forgive me?”
    “Frankly I don’t know, Selva. Your sister and I have closed this subject. We no longer talk about it.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, what else is there to say?”
    “You really think so, Macit?”
    Macit took a sip of coffee before replying. “What I think is neither here nor there. You have done what you wanted. Aren’t you happy, at least? Was it worth the upheaval you caused?”
    “I resent your attitude, I must say. You are talking as if you had never met Rafo yourself.”
    “I don’t see why you should resent my telling the truth. You simply refused to listen to anyone. You went ahead and burned your bridges. You hurt your father, your mother, and Sabiha. I only hope that it was worth it. We all hope you’ll have no regrets.”
    “I love Rafo very much, Macit. I have no regrets, but I am very unhappy…”
    Tears were streaming down her face. Macit took her trembling hands in his. “Come on, Selva, you shouldn’t be unhappy if you love him so much. Think of all you have endured to be together. You are a very strong person; you have always known what you wanted and had the courage to stick to your guns. I’m sure your father is aware of this too. He may not have forgiven you yet, but I am sure that deep down inside he still loves you dearly.”
    “I miss everybody…so much.”
    “Time is a great healer. Give this a little more time.”
    “I wonder how much more time,” Selva said anxiously.
    Was there any? Macit thought. Time was so very precious these days—particularly the past few months—as precious as gold. Wasn’t it time that the Turkish delegation had come to Paris for? President Inönü was seeking time more than anything else: time to think, time to distract, time to avoid war. In fact, Inönü kept answering questions regarding the war by saying, “Time will tell.”
    Macit now gave the same answer to his sister-in-law. “I don’t know, Selva. Time will tell!”
    He realized he was now using diplomatic tactics in his personal life. He had always thought that things could change in the blink of an eye, bringing unforeseen results. But in the present circumstances, Europe could find no solace in predictions or hope.
    Before leaving Selva, Macit held her hands tightly and looked into her eyes. “Everything can change, Selva, and change rapidly. Should anything happen that puts your life in danger, you must return home immediately.”
    “I can’t return without Rafo, Macit.”
    “I think you should. He’s a man; he can look after himself.”
    “We’ve vowed to stick together throughout our lives. He wouldn’t want to go back. You know all he went through, all those insults. And I just couldn’t leave him.”
    “Think carefully. We only have one life to live. We alone are responsible for it.”
    “Macit, try to understand. I am not only responsible for my own life.”
    “Exactly. Even at sea women and children abandon ship first.”
    “You don’t understand; I’m not talking about Rafo.”
    Macit, who had stood up to leave, sat down again. “No! You don’t mean…”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “When?”
    “Early next year.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
    “I had hoped you’d notice.”
    Looking at her more closely, Macit could indeed