Bittersweet

CHAPTER 5

IT WAS another brilliantly sunny day when she woke up, and there was a gentle breeze rustling the curtains at her open bedroom window. She stretched and got up, and looked out, and all she could see as she looked out at the ocean was the biggest sailboat she'd ever seen. There were people running around on deck, and a series of flags flying from the mast, its hull was dark blue, and its superstructure silver. It was a spectacular sight, and she knew instantly whose it was. There was no need for the Parkers to call them. You could see the boat for miles. It was a spectacular sight as it sailed slowly past them, its mainmast towering high above the water, and she ran to get Sam to show him.
“Come on …get up … I have something to show you!” She woke him up as she came into his room, and gently pulled back the covers. “It's here!”
“What is?” He was still half asleep when he got up, and followed his mother to the window, where she pointed to the sailboat.
“Wow, Mom! Look at that! It must be the biggest sailboat in the world! Are they already leaving?” He looked worried. He was terrified he'd missed it.
“They must be going to the yacht club.” They had a brightly colored spinnaker up and it was an incredible sight as they headed briskly past them. The wind had picked up just enough, and the boat was exquisitely graceful as she sailed toward the point. And then, India dashed quickly back to her bedroom and grabbed her camera. She and Sam ran out on the deck together, and she got some great pictures of the sailboat. She made a mental note to herself to give a set to Dick Parker once she developed them. The boat was absolutely lovely.
“Can we call Dick now?” Sam could hardly contain his excitement.
“Maybe we should wait a little while, Sam. It's only eight o'clock in the morning.”
“But what if they go back to New York before we get a chance to see it?”
“They just got here, sweetheart, and Dick said they'd be here all week. I don't think you're going to miss it, honest. How about some pancakes first?” It was the only thing she could think of to stall him, and he agreed reluctantly. But finally, at eight-thirty, he couldn't stand it a moment longer and begged her to call them.
Jenny answered the phone, and India apologized for disturbing them so early, but explained the situation to her, and she laughed when she heard about Sam's impatience.
“They just called us from the boat, in fact. They invited us over for lunch. They're going to dock it at the yacht club.”
“That's what I told Sam. It looked like that was where they were headed.” Sam had gone back out to the deck, with binoculars, and the boat had disappeared around the point, and was out of sight now.
“Why don't you come to lunch with us?” Jenny suggested. “I'm sure two more won't make any difference to them. Do you think the others would like to come too? I can always call Paul, I'm sure he wouldn't mind.”
“I'll ask them, and call you back. Thanks so much, Jenny. I'm not sure Sam is going to be able to stand it till lunchtime. You may have to come over and sedate him.”
“Wait till he sees it!” Jenny promised, and when the others got up, India told them about the boat and asked them if they'd like to come, but they all had plans, and their friends seemed more exciting to them than a sailboat.
“Boy, are you guys dumb,” Sam said to them with disgust as they ate their breakfast. India had made pancakes for everyone, and Sam was sitting at the table with them, although he'd eaten before they had. “It's the biggest sailboat in the world] You should see it!”
“How would you know?” Jason looked unimpressed. The I'llton children had a cousin with them from New York, and she was the cutest girl he'd ever seen. No sailboat in the world could hold a candle to her, and he wasn't about to miss an opportunity to spend the day with her, no matter how big the boat was.
“Mom and I saw it this morning. It's as big as …as big as …” Words defied him as India smiled at his description.
Aimee was the only one of the children who got sea-sick like her father, and she didn't want to go on it, even if it was tied up at the dock. And Jessica had already made far more interesting plans with the Boardmans. Three teenage boys, one of them a freshman at Duke, and her best friend were far greater lures than any sailboat.
“Well, Sam and I will go to lunch,” India said easily, “as long as we've been invited. Maybe they'll ask us again, and you can come then. We'll check it out, and I'll take lots of pictures.” A hundred and seventy feet of sailing yacht was definitely an event not to miss, even in her book.
At noon, when she and Sam got on their bikes to go to the yacht club, he was so excited, he could hardly keep his bike straight on the way over. He almost fell twice and India had to tell him to calm down. The sailboat was not going to go anywhere without them, she assured him.
“You think they'll sail it today, Mom?”
“I don't know. Maybe. It's probably kind of a big deal to get in and out. They might not want to. But at least we'll see it.”
“Be sure you take lots of pictures,” he reminded her, and she laughed. It was fun to see him so happy and so excited. And sharing it with him was like seeing it through a child's eyes. She was almost as excited as he was.
They reached the yacht club easily, and rode down the dock staring at it. It was impossible to miss, as it stuck out beyond the end of the dock, its mast towering seventeen stories into the air. At first glance, it almost looked bigger than the yacht club. There were a few nice sailboats there, but nothing that even remotely compared with the one moored at the end of the dock. And much to India's relief, the Parkers were already there to greet them. It would have been embarrassing to board the yacht among strangers. But Sam wouldn't have cared if he had to crawl through pirates to get there. Nothing would have stopped him, as he ran across the gangway into the arms of Dick Parker. And India was right behind him. They had left their bikes on the dock, and she was wearing white shorts and a white T-shirt, with her hair brushed straight down her back and tied with a white ribbon. She looked more like Sam's big sister than his mother as she spotted the Parkers and smiled.
There were a number of people sitting on deck in comfortable chairs, and on two long, elegant blue canvas-covered couches, and seemingly everywhere were deckhands and crew members in navy shorts and white T-shirts. There were at least half a dozen guests, and a tall, youthful-looking gray-haired man stood out among them. As he approached, India could see that his hair had been the same color as her own, but it was woven in with white now, and the color of sand. He had intense blue eyes, and a handsome chiseled face, and he was wearing white shorts and a bright red T-shirt, over powerful shoulders and a long, lean, athletic-looking body. And within an instant, he was standing next to Dick Parker. His eyes first met India's, and then he quickly looked down at Sam with a broad smile and a hand held out to greet him.
“You must be Dick's friend Sam. What took you so long? We've been waiting for you.”
“My mom rides her bike really slow. She falls off if I ride too fast,” he said, by way of explanation.
“I'm very glad you both made it,” their host said in a friendly, welcoming tone, as he glanced at India with laughter in his eyes. He felt an instant kinship with Sam from the moment he met him, and he was somewhat intrigued by his mother. She was a pretty woman with an intelligent air, and a look of good-humored amusement. She was obviously proud of the boy, and as he chatted with him, he decided that her pride was with good reason. He was bright and interested and polite, and he asked a million surprisingly knowledgeable questions. Sam even knew that the yacht was a ketch, guessed the height of the mainmast based on the length of the boat correctly, and knew the names of all the sails. He obviously had a passion for sailboats, which endeared him instantly to his host. It was a full five minutes before Paul Ward could hold a hand out to India and introduce himself to her. By then, Sam already felt as though he owned him. They had become instant friends, and Paul disappeared with him immediately to take him to the wheelhouse.
Dick Parker introduced India to the rest of the guests then. He and Jenny knew all of them, and India sat down and chatted easily as a stewardess offered her champagne or a Bloody Mary. She asked for tomato juice instead, and it appeared what seemed like seconds later, in a heavy crystal glass with the name of the boat carved in the crystal. The boat was called the Sea Star. It had been built especially for Paul in Italy, according to one of the guests, and it was the second boat of its kind Paul had owned. He had traveled around the world on the first one, as well as this one, and everyone commented on the fact that he was an extraordinary sailor.
“Your son will learn a lot from him,” another guest explained. “He raced in the America's Cup Race as a young man, and he's been seriously involved in it ever since then. He keeps saying he's going to retire from Wall Street and just keep sailing around the world, but I don't think Serena will let him do it.” Everyone laughed then.
“Does she sail everywhere with him?” India asked with interest. She was itching to start taking pictures of the boat, but she wanted to do it discreetly, and hoped she'd get the chance to later. But all of the guests laughed at her question. It appeared to be an inside joke, and one of them finally explained it.
“Serena's idea of hard sailing is from Cannes to Saint-Tropez. And Paul feels cheated unless he's sailing through a typhoon in the Indian Ocean. She manages to fly to meet him at various ports, but as infrequently as she can get away with. She keeps trying to get him to buy a plane and spend less time on the boat, but I don't think she'll win that one.” A woman sitting across from India answered her, and the man sitting next to her nodded.
“My money's on Serena. She hates it when he goes away for long trips on the boat. She's a lot happier when they're tied up stern-to in Cap d'Antibes or Saint-Tropez. Serena is very definitely not a sailor.” India could hardly envision a voyage on the Sea Star as a hardship, but maybe the famous author got seasick. But her dislike of long trips on the boat seemed to be well known among them, and inspired half a dozen stories about Serena. She sounded interesting, but not easy, as India listened to them. And as they talked, she quietly took out her camera, and began shooting. They were so busy telling stories they hardly noticed what India was doing, and after a few minutes, someone admired her camera. It was the new one she had wanted to show Dick Parker, and when she did, he loved it. It seemed natural for him to explain about India to the others.
“Her father won a Pulitzer,” he said on her behalf, “and one of these days India will too, if she goes back to work. She's been to as many places in the world as Paul has, but usually with guns pointed at her, or fires raging. You should see some of her pictures,” he said proudly.
“I haven't done any of that in a long time,” she said modestly. “I gave it up a long time ago when I got married.”
“You can still change that,” Jenny said firmly, as the guests chatted easily, and it was another half hour before Sam and Paul Ward reappeared, and Sam was beaming.
Paul had shown him everything, even how the sails worked. Everything on the boat was computerized, and he could sail the huge boat single-handedly if he had to, and had often, with the crew standing by to help him. But he was truly an extraordinary sailor, and even Sam had understood that. Paul had explained it all very simply to him, and he was impressed more than ever by the child's thoughtful questions. Paul had even made some diagrams for him, to explain things more clearly to him.
“I'm afraid you have a serious sailor on your hands,” Paul said to her admiringly when they returned, and Sam sat down to drink the soda a stewardess handed him with a linen napkin. “It's a serious addiction. If I were you, I'd be very worried. I bought my first sailboat at twenty, when I didn't have a dime, and practically had to sell my soul to do it.”
“Can I help you sail, Paul?” Sam asked with a look of adoration, and Paul smiled as he looked down at him and ruffled his hair. He had a nice way with children, and particularly with Sam.
“I'm not sure we'll go out again today, son. How about tomorrow? We were going to take a sail out to some islands. Would you like to join us?” Sam was instantly beside himself with the sheer joy of it, and Paul glanced at India as he asked the question. “Would you like to come with us tomorrow? I think he'd really enjoy it.”
“I'm sure he would.” India smiled back at him. “Are you sure it wouldn't be an imposition?” She didn't want to be a nuisance. She was afraid Sam's enthusiasm would be a little overwhelming.
“He knows more about sailboats than some of my friends. I'd love to show him how it all works, if you have no objection. It isn't often I get to ‘educate’ a young sailor. Most of the people I have on board are more interested in the bar and the size of their cabins. I think he'd really get something out of the sailing.”
“That would be terrific. Thank you.” She felt strangely shy with him. He was an important man, and there was something very powerful about him, which she found a little daunting. But Sam seemed completely at ease with his new friend, and among the guests and the deckhands. Paul had made him feel entirely at home, and India was touched by what she saw. It told her something about Paul, and a few minutes later, chatting with him, she asked him if he had children. She thought he had to, to be so good with a child Sam's age. And she wasn't surprised when he nodded with a smile.
“I have one son, who has hated boats all his life,” he laughed. “He'd rather be burned at the stake than spend ten minutes on a sailboat. He's a grown man now, with two children of his own, and they seem to dislike boats as much as he does. And my wife is scarcely better than my son. She tolerates life on the Sea Star, but barely. Serena and I have never had children. So I'm afraid the burden of my need to teach sailing to someone rests on Sam. It may prove to be a heavy responsibility for him.” He accepted a glass of champagne from a silver tray the stewardess held out to him, and smiled at India, and then he noticed her camera. “Dick tells me you're a woman of extraordinary talents.”
“I'm afraid not. Not anymore, at least. I just take very good photographs of my children.”
“From what Dick has said, I think you're being very modest. He said your specialty was bandits, guerrillas, and war zones.” She laughed at the description of her early years as a photojournalism but he wasn't entirely wrong. She had done a lot of dangerous assignments in some very unusual places. “I've done a bit of that myself, though not with photography. I was a navy pilot when I was young, and then later, before I remarried, I was involved in airlifts to some very out-of-the-way places. I organized a group of pilots, on a volunteer basis, to do rescue missions and supply drops. We were probably in some of the same places.” Just listening to him, she knew she would have liked to photograph his adventures.
“Do you still do it?” she asked, intrigued by him. He was a man of many facets and contrasts. He obviously lived a life of luxury, but somehow managed to combine it with a life filled with danger and excitement. And she also knew of his many victories on Wall Street. He had a reputation for integrity and success that had made him a legend.
“I gave up the airlifts a few years ago. My wife had serious objections to it. She thought it was too dangerous, and she said she had no pressing desire to become a widow yet.”
“That was probably sensible of her.”
“We never lost a plane or a pilot,” he said confidently, “but I didn't want to upset her. I still arrange funding for the project, but I don't fly the missions myself anymore. We flew a number of missions into Bosnia, to help the children while things were rough there. And of course Rwanda.” Everything about him seemed both admirable and impressive, and she was fascinated by him. Just talking to him, she wanted to reach for her camera and take his picture, but she knew she couldn't. He had already been kind enough to Sam, and she didn't want to annoy him.
He chatted with some of the other guests then, and half an hour later, he walked them all into the dining room, where there was an impeccably set table, covered with exquisite china and crystal and embroidered linens. He ran his boat like a fine hotel, or a beautifully run home. Every minute detail had been seen to with perfection. His hospitality was apparently as extraordinary as his sailing.
India was surprised to find herself at Paul's right at lunch, and honored by the place he'd given her. And it enabled them to engage in a considerable amount of conversation. He was fascinating to talk to. He had an extensive knowledge of the world and the arts, a passion for politics, and a lot of strong opinions and interesting views. And at the same time, he had a gentleness, a kindness, and a wisdom that endeared him to her. And more than once, he had her laughing at stories he told on himself. He had a sense of mischief as well, and a wicked sense of humor. But no matter how many subjects they explored about the world at large, the conversation always drifted back to sailing. It was clearly the passion he lived for. And to her left, Sam was deeply engrossed in conversation with Dick Parker on the same subject. And he glanced over now and then to smile at Paul. In one brief afternoon, Paul had become Sam's hero.
“I think I'm falling desperately in love with your son,” Paul confided in an undertone as the stewardesses in the dining room served them coffee in Limoges cups. “He's magical, and he knows an awful lot about sailing. He actually makes me wish I'd had more children.” It was hardly too late for him, India realized. She remembered reading in Fortune magazine that he was fifty-seven, and Serena was roughly fifty. Given the way he felt, it surprised India that he had never had children with her. She knew from something he'd said at lunch that they had been married for eleven years, but he also talked about how intensely busy she was, writing novels, and overseeing the production of the movies made from them, in the most minute detail. She was, in fact, in LA. doing just that at that very moment. He described her as a perfectionist, and completely driven. He said she was both talented and compulsive about her work.
Paul had told India at lunch that he had married while still in college the first time, had only the one son he'd mentioned earlier, and stayed married for fifteen years, and then waited another ten years before he married Serena. She had been thirty-nine when they were married, and for her it had been the first time.
“Actually,” Paul said, explaining it to her, “Serena has never wanted children. She's passionate about her career, and she's always been afraid that children would interfere with it.” He said it without making editorial comment on her decision. But India thought that maybe since he already had a son when he married her, it hadn't mattered to him. It was, in any case, an interesting perspective for India, who had given up a career to have four children. “I don't think she's ever regretted the decision,” he said honestly. “And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure she would ever have been good with kids. She's a very complex woman.” India was dying to ask him what that meant, but didn't dare. And in spite of the ambiguity of what he had said, she got the feeling that he was happy with her.
It was a long, chatty lunch, and Paul and India touched on a wide variety of subjects, and eventually came back to their respectively extensive travel. He still enjoyed going to remote parts of the world, whenever possible on his sailboat. “I don't get to do it as much as I'd like to,” he admitted, “but one of these days, I will. I keep telling myself I'm going to retire early, but with Serena still so involved in her work, there's no point doing that until she has more free time to be with me. And if I read the signs correctly, by the time she slows down,” he smiled at India wistfully, “I'll be in a wheelchair.”
“I hope not.”
“Me too,” he said firmly. “What about you? Are you going back to your career one of these days, or are you still too busy with your children?” He could only imagine what four young children would require of her. To Paul, it sounded more than a little overwhelming, but she sounded as though she enjoyed it. The one person she hadn't said much about was her husband, and that hadn't gone unnoticed. Paul had been quick to notice the absence of any reference to her spouse.
“I don't think I'll ever go back to work,” she said thoughtfully. “My husband is violently opposed to it. He can't even imagine why I'd think about it.” And not even knowing why, she told him then about the assignment in Korea, and Doug's reaction to it. It had been completely beyond him why she would even consider doing it, or be disappointed when she didn't.
“He sounds like he needs to get dragged into the twentieth century. It's a bit foolish to expect a woman to give up her career, and whatever identity and self-esteem goes with it, and not expect some kind of reaction to that kind of sacrifice and loss. Personally, I wouldn't be as brave as he is.” Or as foolish, he thought, but didn't say it. Sooner or later, Paul knew, her husband was going to pay a price for it. Big time. It was inevitable. He had learned that with Serena. Even asking her to take time off to sail with him elicited nothing short of outrage from her. But then again, she was particularly compulsive about her work. “It sounds as though you miss your career, India. Am I right?” He wanted to get to know her better. There was something quiet and magnetic about her that drew her to him, and every time he watched her talk to Sam, something about the warmth of their exchange, and her gentleness with the child, touched him deeply. There were a lot of positive things he could have said about his wife, but nurturing had never been her strong suit, and gentle was not a word he would have used to describe her. She was exciting and passionate and opinionated and powerful and glamorous and brilliant. But she and India seemed as though they had been born on different planets and lived in different worlds. There was a softness to India, and a subtle sensuality, coupled with a sharp mind and mischievous wit, which he found inordinately attractive. And her straightforwardness and honesty were refreshing to him. His dealings with Serena were always fascinatingly convoluted. But that was Serena. And most of all, she loved to provoke him. India appeared to be a far more peaceful person, although she certainly did not appear to be “weak.”
And she was thoughtful before she answered his question about missing her work. “Yes, I do miss it. The funny thing is, I didn't for a very long time. I was too busy to even think about it. But lately, as the kids are starting to grow up, I feel a real void in my life where my work was. I don't know what just yet, but I think I need something to fill it other than children.” It was that that Doug had absolutely refused to hear when she tried to talk to him about it. He just brushed her off, and her feelings on the subject, dismissing it entirely. And it was the first time she had actually translated her thoughts into words and told someone else about how she felt.
“I don't see why you couldn't go back now, maybe on slightly tamer assignments,” Paul suggested reasonably. It was more or less what he had told his wife. She could do one movie a year, and a book every two or three years. She didn't have to do two movies a year, four television shows, and a six-book contract to complete in three years. But Serena didn't want to hear it, and even listening to him say the words had made her feel threatened and provoked a fight.
“I did a piece in Harlem three years ago, on child abuse,” India explained. “That was perfect for me. It was close to home, not dangerous physically. It turned out very well. But I don't get assignments like that often. Whenever they do call, they seem to want me on the kind of assignments I used to do, in places where there are riots or revolutions. I guess they think that's what I'm good at. But taking assignments like that would be too hard on Doug and the kids.”
“Not to mention dangerous for you.” He was frowning as he said it. He wasn't sure he'd like his wife risking her neck for a story either. The worst place Serena had to be to conduct her business was at the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, or in her publisher's office in New York. She was hardly in danger or at risk. “Well,you ought to figure out some kind of compromise, India. You can't deprive yourself of that kind of nourishment forever. You need it. We all do. That's why I don't retire. Much as I hate to admit it, to some extent, wielding power feeds my ego.” She liked the fact that he was willing to admit it to her. It made him seem vulnerable somehow, which was not a word most people would have used to describe Paul Ward. But India sensed that clearly about him. He was vulnerable, in his feelings for his wife, in the way he talked to her, in the things he shared, even in the way he reached out to Sam. There was a great deal of moral courage to him, and sincerity, and hidden tenderness. There was a lot she liked about him. He was a very impressive man.
It was after three-thirty when they left the lunch table, and Paul volunteered to take Sam out in the little sailing dinghy they kept on board, and teach him how to sail. And Sam was ecstatic when he offered. Paul put a life jacket on the boy, and had the deckhands lower the dinghy to the water, and then they scampered down the ladder, and a moment later, India was watching them heading out toward the ocean. She was only slightly worried that they might capsize, but his friends and the crew reassured her that Paul was responsible, and also a strong swimmer. And she could tell just from his expression how happy Sam was.
She could see him laughing and smiling and looking up at Paul from where she stood, and as she watched them, she took out her camera, and got a series of great shots with her long lens. She could see both their faces clearly, and she had never seen two happier people than her son and his new friend. It was after five when they reluctantly came back to the Sea Star, and Sam scampered back on board.
“Wow! Mom! That was fantastic. It was so cool …and Paul showed me how to do it!” Sam was beaming, and Paul looked pleased too. The two had obviously formed an even greater bond in the dinghy.
“I know. I could see, sweetheart. I got lots of pictures of you,” India said as Paul looked down at her with a big smile, and Sam ran off to get sodas for both of them. He felt remarkably at home on the boat thanks to Paul's hospitality, and as far as Sam was concerned, Paul was his friend for life now. India knew he would never forget the day he had just spent.
“He's a great boy, India. You should be very proud of him. He's smart and kind, and he has integrity, and a great sense of humor. Like his mother,” he added. Getting to know Sam, he felt as though he knew her better. He was a kind of bridge between them that he truly enjoyed.
“You learned all that in an hour in a boat the size of a bathtub?” She was teasing, but she was touched by what he had said about her son.
“There's no better place to learn it. Sailing teaches you a lot about someone, especially in a boat that size. He was very clever about it, and very sensible and careful. You don't need to worry about him.”
“I do anyway.” She grinned, looking up at Paul comfortably. “It's part of my job description. I wouldn't be holding up my end of the deal if I didn't worry about him.”
“He's a terrific sailor,” Paul said almost proudly.
“So are you,” she said simply. “I was watching the whole time.”
“I'd love to see the pictures.”
“I'll develop them for you, and bring them when we come tomorrow.”
“I'd like that,” he said, as Sam ran back to them, holding two Coca-Colas, and handed one to Paul as he grinned at his mother. It had been the best day of his life so far.
They stood for a moment, drinking their Cokes, they were tired and thirsty and happy. The breeze had come up by then, and it had been work for Paid sailing the dinghy. But it was hard to tell which of them had enjoyed it more.
They glanced over at the bar, where some of his guests were playing liar's dice. Others were sunbathing, two were reading, and one was sleeping. It had been a peaceful, easy afternoon, and India had enjoyed it. It was five-thirty when she finally told Sam they had to leave and go home to the others, and he looked crestfallen when she said it.
“You'll be back tomorrow, Sam,” Paul reminded him. “Come down early if you want. We'll do some things together before we sail.”
“How early?” Sam looked hopeful, and Paul and India laughed as they watched him.
“Does nine o'clock sound like the middle of the day to you?” He had a feeling Sam would be there at five, if he let him. “Make that eight-thirty.” And then he glanced at India with a question in his eyes. “Is that all right with you?”
“It's fine. I'll get the other children fed and organized before we leave. They're pretty self-sufficient. They're with their friends all day anyway. They won't miss us.”
“You can bring them if you'd like to. All my guests will be off the boat for the day, it'll be just you and Sam, and me. There's plenty of room for the others, if they'd enjoy it.”
“I'll ask them.” It seemed a shame to miss an opportunity like this, but she had a feeling they wouldn't be tempted. They didn't want to miss a minute with their friends, and Sam was the only one of her children who had fallen in love with sailing. “Thank you for the invitation, in any case, and all your kindness.” She shook his hand before they left, and she felt their eyes lock for a moment. She saw something there but she didn't know what it was …admiration …curiosity …friendship …but she felt it race through her like something indistinguishable and electric, and then the moment was gone, and she and Sam were back on their bikes, as the guests and the crew waved to them. It suddenly felt like leaving home, or a magical vacation. And like Sam, as they rode home, all she wanted to do was turn around and go back to the Sea Star as fast as she could.
It had been a perfect afternoon in every way, and she couldn't help thinking of Paul as she pedaled behind Sam, trying to keep up with him without falling off her bike. There was something very rare and deep about the man she had met that afternoon. And she was sure there was more to him than what they'd seen. They didn't call him the Lion of Wall Street for nothing. There had to be a hard side to him too, perhaps even ruthless. Yet what she had seen was someone very gentle and very caring. And she knew that neither Sam nor she would ever forget the day they had just spent with him.