Bittersweet

CHAPTER 6

THE CHILDREN were all home when Sam and India got back from their afternoon on the Sea Star and everyone had had a good day, and seemed happy to see them. Sam told them all about Paul, the boat, and his adventures in the dinghy, and they listened affectionately, but without much interest. Sam felt about boats the way some small boys were about tanks or airplanes. It didn't make much sense, or hold any magic, for the others. And as they talked, India went to the kitchen to cook dinner.
She made pasta, and salad, and garlic bread, and put some frozen pizzas in the oven. She had a suspicion that additional mouths would appear eventually, and she wasn't wrong. At seven o'clock, when they sat down, four more children turned up, two of them friends of Jason's, and the other two friends of Aimee's. It was the way they lived in the summer. It was casual and relaxed, and she never cared how many kids were underfoot. That was just part of their beach life, it was expected, and she liked it.
Jessica helped her clear the kitchen afterward, while the others went to play, and as soon as they had finished loading the dishwasher, Doug called them. Sam got on the phone first and told him all about the Sea Star. He made it sound like the largest ocean liner in the world when he described how big it was, but he also described in great detail all the intricacies of the sails and the computer system that ran diem. It was obvious that Sam had really learned a lot about sailing from Paul, and Sam had really listened to him.
And when it was finally India's turn to talk to Doug, he asked her about Sam's enthusiasm about it. “What was Sam all worked up about? Is the boat as big as he says, or was it some old tub at the yacht club?”
“It was a very nice tub.” India smiled as she answered, thinking of the day they had spent on it. “The owner is a friend of Dick and Jenny's. I've read about him, and I'm sure you have too. His name is Paul Ward, and he's married to Serena Smith, the author. She's in LA working on a movie, and he and a bunch of friends are here for the week on his sailboat. Maybe he'll still be here when you come up.”
“Spare me,” Doug said, feeling seasick just thinking about it. “You know how I feel about boats, but I'd like to meet him. What's he like? Arrogant as hell and a real son of a bitch beneath the veneer?” It was what Doug expected, knowing of his power and success on Wall Street. It was inconceivable to him that anyone could have that much power and still be a decent human being too.
“No, he seems very human, actually. He was great to Sam, and even took him out in his dinghy,” India said casually, annoyed that Doug automatically assumed that Paul was a bastard.
“I hear he's pretty ruthless. Maybe he was just showing off for his friends. He sounds like the kind of guy who eats his young, and anyone else's.” Doug was persistent in his viewpoint, and India didn't want to argue with him.
“He didn't eat ours, at least. Sam loved him.” She was going to tell him they were going sailing with him again the next day, and then for no particular reason, thought better of it and never mentioned it to him.
“How are you?” He changed the subject then, and spared her from saying more about Paul. There wasn't much more to say anyway, other than that she thought he was terrific, and he thought she should go back to work as soon as possible. She was sure Doug would have loved to hear it.
“I'm fine. Busy with the kids. It's great here. All the same faces, old friends. Jenny and Dick have been wonderful, as usual. The kids are back with all their old pals again. Nothing new here.” It was what she loved about it. The sameness and familiarity. It was like burrowing into an old cozy pillow in a favorite nightgown. “How are you?”
“Tired. Working. I haven't taken a minute off since you left. I figured I'd just buckle down and do it. I still won't make it up for the Fourth though.”
“I know, you told me.” Her voice was noncommittal. She was still angry at him over their conversation during the fateful dinner.
“I didn't want you or the kids to be disappointed,” Doug said apologetically.
“We won't be. We're going to the Parkers for their barbecue.”
“Stick to the steaks, they're the only thing Dick doesn't set fire to.” She smiled at the memory, and told him that they had hired a cook this year. “I miss you guys,” he said comfortably. Collectively. But not “I miss you.” She would have liked to hear that, but she didn't tell him she missed him either. The truth was she didn't. And she was still having conflicting feelings about him ever since their discussions before she left Westport. But somehow, she got the impression he'd forgotten all about it. He had never fully understood how deeply he had upset her, or how devastated she had felt when he talked about what he expected of their marriage. Sometimes she felt as though she didn't know who she was now, his friend, his housekeeper, his “reliable companion.” She didn't want to be any of those, she wanted to be his lover. And she realized now that she wasn't. She felt like a hired hand, a slave, a convenience, an object he took for granted. Like a vehicle he had used to transport his children. She felt no more important to him than the station wagon they had used to get there. It was an empty feeling and it put a distance between them she had never felt before.
“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said impersonally. “Good night, India.” She waited for him to say that he loved her, or missed her, but he didn't. And she wondered, as she hung up, if this was how Gail had arrived at the place where she had been for several years now. Feeling used and bored and empty and unloved. So much so that she had to meet other men in hotels in order to feel better. It was a destination India never wanted to arrive at. She would do anything before she started meeting men in motels, or sleeping with other women's husbands. That was not what she had come this far for. But what had she come for, she asked herself as she walked into the darkroom, lost in her own thoughts.
She took out her chemicals and began developing her film as she mused over her conversation with her husband, and then as she looked at the photographs developing in the tubs, she saw him. Paul. Smiling up at her. Laughing with Sam. Ducking his head in the dinghy, against the horizon looking incredibly handsome. It was an endless string of striking portraits of him, and told the tale of a magical afternoon between a man and a boy. It was the portrait of a hero, and she stood for a long time, looking at the pictures, thinking about him, and Serena. He had used such an odd combination of words to describe her. In some ways she sounded terrifying, in others fatally enticing. She could sense easily that he was in love with her, intrigued by her, and he claimed he was happy with her. And yet, everything he said had told India instinctively that she was anything but easy. But what they seemed to share appeared to suggest excitement. It made her wonder once again what she had with Doug. What did it all mean? And more importantly, what were the essential components of a good marriage? She no longer understood them. The ingredients she thought were necessary she'd been told were unimportant, and the things Paul said about Serena, about her being difficult, obstinate, challenging, aggressive at times, seemed to make him love her. As India thought about it, she decided that deciphering relationships and what made them work was momentarily beyond her. She no longer had the answers she had been so sure of not very long ago.
She hung the pictures up to dry, and left her darkroom to check on the children. Sam had fallen asleep, on the couch, watching a video, and the others were playing tag outside the house, in the dark by flashlight, and Jessica and a friend, one of the Boardman boys, were eating cold pizza in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be in order. All was well in her safe little world.
She carried Sam to bed, and managed to undress him without waking him up. He was exhausted after all the fresh air and excitement he'd had on the Sea Star. And as she looked down at him, she thought of Paul and the pictures she'd taken of him.
But then she had an even stranger thought, as she turned off the light and walked slowly back to her bedroom. She wondered suddenly what it would be like to be doing this alone, if she and Doug were no longer married. How different would it be? She did it all now. She cared for the children, she was here alone. She had all the responsibility, she did all the chores, did all the nurturing and worrying and cooking and cleaning. The only thing she didn't do was support them. It was scary thinking of it, but what if Doug left her? If he died? Would her life be so different? Would she feel more alone than she did now, knowing that she was just a tool to him, a convenience? What would happen to her if she lost him? Years before, she had worried about it, when the kids were small and she felt she couldn't live for an hour without him. But that had been when she thought he was in love with her. But now that she realized he wasn't in love, and felt no need to be, what would it really mean now to be without him? She felt guilty for even thinking of it, as though she had waved a magic wand and “disappeared” him. Just thinking about it was a form of treason. But no one knew what she was thinking. She would never have dared put the thoughts into words, not to anyone, not even Gail. And certainly not to Doug.
She lay on her bed for a while, and picked up a book finally, but she found she couldn't read it. All she could hear were her own questions echoing through her head, and there were a thousand of them. And louder than all of them was the one she feared most. What did their marriage mean to her now? Now that she knew what Doug was thinking. It changed everything, like the subtle turn of a dial that changed the music from sweet melody to endless static that hurt one's eardrums. And she could no longer pretend to herself that what she heard was music. It wasn't. Hadn't been for weeks. Maybe longer than that. Maybe it never had been. That was the worst thought. Or had it been something very sweet, and had they lost it? She considered that possibility the most likely. Maybe it happened to everyone in the end. Eventually, you lost the magic …and wound up bitter or angry, or like Gail, trying to empty an ocean of loneliness with a teacup. It seemed hopeless to her.
She gave up on the book eventually, and went out to the deck to check on the children playing tag, and found they had settled down in the living room finally, and were talking quietly with the television on in the background. And all she could do was stand there, staring up at the stars and wondering what would happen to her life now. Probably nothing. She would drive car pools for the next nine years, until Sam was old enough to drive, or maybe three years before that when Jason could drive him and Aimee, and she would be off the hook then. And then what? More laundry, more meals until they left for college, and then waiting for them to come home for vacations. And what would happen to her and Doug then? What would they say to each other? Suddenly, it all sounded so lonely, and so empty. That was all she felt now. Empty. Broken. Cheated. And yet she had to go on, like a piece of machinery, cranking away, producing whatever it was meant to, until it broke down completely. It didn't seem too hopeful, or too appealing. And as she thought of it, she looked out over the ocean, and saw it. The Sea Star, in all her glory, with all the lights lit in the main saloon and the cabins, with red lights twinkling on the mast, as they went for a night sail. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, and it looked like the perfect escape. A kind of magic carpet, to wherever you wanted it to take you. She could see why Paul sailed all over the world. What better way to explore new places? It was like taking your house with you, your own safe little world that went everywhere with you. At the moment, India couldn't imagine anything better, and for just an instant, she would have loved to hide there, and she thought Paul Ward was lucky to have it. The boat looked so lovely as it sailed past her. She was sorry that Sam was asleep and couldn't see it, but at least he'd be back on board in the morning, and she knew how much he was looking forward to it.
She got all the kids into bed by eleven, and turned out her own lights shortly after. And in the morning, she got Sam up at seven-thirty. He was on his feet almost before she touched him, anxious to get started. She had already showered and dressed. She was wearing a sky blue T-shirt and white jeans, and pale blue espadrilles Gail had bought for her in France the previous summer, and her hair was braided and clean and tidy, as she walked into the kitchen to make breakfast.
She had promised to leave blueberry muffins and fruit salad for the others, and there were four boxes of cereal for them. They had all told her their plans the night before, including dinner with friends, and she knew they'd be fine without her. And if they had a problem, they could go to any of their neighbors. And Paul had given her the satellite number on the boat, which she left for them, so they could call her in an emergency. Everything was taken care of, and at eight-twenty she and Sam were on their bikes, heading for the yacht club again.
Paul was on deck when they got there, and the guests were just leaving. They had rented a van and were going to visit friends in Gloucester. They were staying overnight, and they waved at India and Sam as they left, and Sam ran onto the boat with a broad grin and Paul put an arm around him.
“I'll bet you slept like a log last night after sailing that dinghy.” He laughed as Sam nodded. “So did I. It's hard work, but it's fun. Today will be a lot easier. I thought we'd sail to New Seabury, stop for lunch, and then come back here after dinner. Does that work for you?” He looked up at India, and she nodded.
“That sounds lovely,” India said happily, as he asked if they'd had breakfast.
“Just cereal,” Sam said forlornly, as though she had starved him. And his mother smiled.
“That's no breakfast for a sailor,” Paul said, looking sympathetic. “How about some waffles? They just made some in the galley. How does that sound?”
“Much better.” Sam approved of the menu, and Paul told India where to leave their things in one of the guest cabins. She walked down the staircase, found the stateroom he had indicated easily, and was startled by what she saw. The room was more beautiful than any hotel room. The walls were paneled in mahogany, there were shiny brass fittings on all the drawers and closets. The room was large and airy, with several portholes, and a huge closet, and there was a fabulous white marble bathroom, with a bathtub and a shower. It was even more luxurious than what she might have expected, and even nicer than their home in Westport. And she recognized easily that the paintings all around her were by famous artists.
She put her bag down on the bed, and noticed that the blanket was cashmere with the emblem of the boat on it. And she took out the envelope of photographs she'd brought with her.
And by the time she got back to the dining room, Sam was up to his neck in waffles, with maple syrup dribbling down his chin as he and Paul engaged in a serious conversation about sailing.
“How about you, India? Waffles?”
“No, thanks,” she smiled, slightly embarrassed. “You would think I never feed him.”
“Sailors need to eat a big breakfast,” he said, smiling at her. “How about coffee for you, India?” He loved the sound of her name, and said it often. He had asked her about it the day before, and she told him her father had been on assignment there when she was born, and Paul had told her how much he liked it. He found it very exotic.
One of the two stewardesses standing by poured India a cup of steaming coffee, in a Limoges cup with little blue stars on it. All the china and crystal had either the boat's logo or stars on it.
It was after nine when Sam finished breakfast, and Paul invited them up to the bridge. It was a gorgeous, sunny day and there was a good breeze blowing. It was perfect weather for sailing, as Paul looked up at the sky and said something to the captain. They were going to motor away from the yacht club, and then set their sails when they got a little distance from it. And Paul showed Sam everything he did, as they prepared to leave the dock, and the deckhands pulled in the fenders and released their moorings. They called to each other, and threw the ropes back on board, as the stewardesses went below to stow any movable objects. India enjoyed sitting out of the way, watching the bustling activity all around them, as Sam stood right beside Paul, while he explained everything to him. And in a few minutes, they had left the dock, and were leaving the harbor.
“Ready?” Paul asked Sam as he turned off the motor. They lowered the keel hydraulically when they left the yacht club.
“Ready,” Sam said anxiously. He could hardly wait to get sailing. Paul showed him which buttons to push, as the giant sails began to unfurl, and he set the genoa, then the staysail, followed by the huge mainsail, the fisherman staysail, and finally the mizzen at precisely the right angle. It took barely a minute for the sails to fill, and suddenly the enormous sailboat began moving. She heeled gracefully, and picked up speed immediately. It was exhilarating and extraordinary, and Sam was beaming as he looked up at Paul. It was the most beautiful sight India had ever seen as they left the shore at a good speed and headed toward New Seabury under full sail.
Paul and Sam adjusted the sails regularly, as they looked up at the huge masts, and Paul then explained all the dials to Sam again, as his mother watched them. Paul and Sam stood side by side at the wheel, and Paul let Sam hold it for a while, as he continued to stand very near him, and then finally he turned it over to the captain. Sam opted to stay with him, and Paul went to sit with India in the cockpit.
“You're going to spoil him. No other sailboat will ever do after this. This is just fantastic.” She was beaming at him, sailing with him was an unforgettable experience, and she loved it, almost as much as Sam.
“I'm glad you like it.” He looked pleased. It was clearly the love of his life, and the place where he was the happiest and the most peaceful. At least that was what he had told her. “I love this boat. I've had a lot of good times on the Sea Star”
“So has everyone who's ever been here, I imagine. I loved listening to your friends' stories.”
“I'm sure half of them are about Serena jumping ship, and threatening to leave every time the boat moves. She's not exactly an avid sailor.”
“Does she get seasick?” India was curious about her.
“Not really. Only once actually. She just hates sailing, and boats.”
“That must be something of a challenge, with you so crazy about them.”
“It means we don't spend as much time together as we ought to. She comes up with a lot of excuses not to be here, and as busy as she is, it's hard to argue with her. I never know if she really needs to be in L.A., or see her publisher, or if she's just coming up with reasons not to be on the Sea Star, I used to try and talk her into it, now I just kind of let her come when she wants to.”
“Does it bother you when she doesn't?” She knew it was a little presumptuous asking him that, but he made her feel so comfortable, she felt as though she could ask him. And she was curious now about what made other people's marriages work, what was their secret for success. It suddenly seemed particularly important. Perhaps she would learn something that would be useful to her.
“Sometimes it does bother me,” he admitted to her, as one of the crew offered them Bloody Marys. It was nearly eleven. “It's lonely without her, but I'm used to it. You can't force someone to do something they don't want. And if you do, you pay a price for it. Sometimes a very big one. I learned that with my first wife. I did absolutely everything wrong that time, and I swore to myself that if I ever married again, it would be different. And it has been. My marriage to Serena is everything my first marriage wasn't. I waited a long time to get married again. I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision, with the right woman.”
“And did you?” She asked the question so gently, he didn't feel invaded by her asking. But in an odd unexpected way, they were becoming friends.
“I think so. We're very different, Serena and I. We don't always want the same things out of life, but we always have a good time with each other. And I respect her. I'm pretty sure it's mutual. I admire her success and her tenacity, and her strength. She has a lot of courage. And sometimes she drives me absolutely crazy.” He smiled as he said it.
“I'm sorry to ask so many questions. I've been asking myself a lot of the same questions these days, and I'm not sure I know the answers. I thought I did. But apparently, the correct answers weren't the ones I always thought they would be.”
“That doesn't sound good,” he said cautiously. And somehow, here, on the ocean, with the sails overhead, they felt as though they could say anything to each other.
“It isn't,” she admitted. She hardly knew him, she realized, but she felt completely safe talking to him. “I have no idea what I'm doing anymore, or where I'm going, or where I've been for the last fourteen years. I've been married for seventeen years, and all of a sudden I wonder if the things I've done with my life make any sense, if they ever did. I thought so, but I'm not so sure now.”
“Like what?” He wanted to hear what she had to say, maybe even to help her. There was something about her that made him want to reach out to her. And it had nothing to do with betraying Serena. This was entirely separate. He felt as though he and India could be friends, and speak their minds to each other.
“I gave up my job fourteen years ago. I was working for The New York Times. I had been for two years, ever since I came back from Asia, and Africa before that …Nicaragua, Costa Rica …Peru … I'd been all over.” But he already knew that. “I came back because Doug told me it would be over between us if I didn't. He had waited for me in the States for more than a year, and that seemed fair. We got married a few months later, and I worked in New York for just over two years, and then I got pregnant with our oldest daughter. And that's when Doug told me I had to quit. He didn't want me running around taking pictures in ghettos and back alleys, and following gangs for a great shot once we had children. That was the deal we made when we got married. Once we had kids, I'd hang it up, and it would be all over. So I did. We moved to Connecticut. I had four kids in five years, and that's what I've been doing ever since. Car pools and diapers.”
“And do you hate it?” He couldn't imagine how she wouldn't. There was too much to her to hide in a diaper pail for fourteen years, or in Connecticut driving car pools. He couldn't understand a man who was blind enough to do that to her. But evidently Doug had been.
“I hate it sometimes,” she answered him honestly. “Who doesn't? It wasn't exactly what I dreamed of doing when I was in high school. And I got used to a very different life when I was on the road. But sometimes I really love it, more than I thought I would. I love my kids, and being with them, and knowing that I'm making a contribution to their lives that will really make a difference.”
“And what about you? What do you get out of it?” He narrowed his eyes as he watched her, concentrating on what she was saying to him.
“I get a certain kind of satisfaction from it. A good feeling being with my children. I like them. They're nice people.”
“So are you.” He smiled at her. “So what are you going to do? Drive car pools until you're too old to drive anymore, or go back to work now?”
“That's the kicker. It just came up recently. My husband is adamant about my not working. It's causing a lot of tension between us. We had a serious conversation about it recently, and he defined to me what he expects of our marriage.” She looked depressed as she said it.
“And what does he?”
“Not much. That's the problem. What he described was a maid, a kind of bus driver who can cook and clean up after the kids. A companion, I think he said. ‘Someone he could rely on to take care of the children.’ That was about all he wanted.”
“I'd say he's not one of the great romantics,” Paul said drily, and she smiled. She liked talking to him, and it made her feel better. For a month now she had been stewing about what Doug had told her, and worse yet what he hadn't.
“It doesn't leave me many illusions about how he views me. And suddenly, when I look back, I realize that's all it's ever been, for a long time anyway. Maybe that's all it ever was. Just a companion with room service, and good housekeeping. And I was so damn busy, I never noticed. Maybe I could live with it if I went back to work again. But he doesn't want me to do that either. In fact,” she looked at Paul intently, “he forbade me to do it.”
“He's very foolish. I played that game once. And I lost. My first wife was an editor at a magazine, while I was still in college. She had a terrific job, and I wonder if I wasn't a little jealous of her. She got pregnant with our son when I graduated and got a job, and I forced her to quit. Men did things like that then. And she hated me forever. She never forgave me. She felt I had ruined her life, and condemned her to a life of running after our son. She wasn't very maternal anyway. She never wanted more kids, and eventually she didn't want me either. The marriage fell apart in ugly ways that were very painful to us. And when it was over, she went back to work. She's a senior editor of Vogue now. But she still hates me. It's a very dangerous thing clipping a woman's wings. The patient does not survive that kind of surgery, or at least not very often. It's why I never interfere with Serena's career. At least I learned that much. And I never forced her to have children. Mary Anne, my first wife, never should have done that either. My son, Sean, was brought up by nannies once she went back to work, went to boarding school at ten, and finally wound up with me at thirteen. And he's still not very close to his mother. At least you've done that right.” He could see in Sam all the love she had lavished on him, and he was sure she had done as much with the others. “You can't force people to do what they don't want and what isn't natural to them. It just doesn't work. I think we all know that. I'm surprised your husband doesn't.”
“I did want it for a long time though. I love my family. I love having the kids. And I don't want to hurt them now by going back to work full-time. I can't trek around the world like I used to. But I think they would survive it if I went now and then, a couple of times a year for a week or two, or worked on stories close to home. All of sudden I feel as though I've given up who I am, and no one gives a damn, especially not my husband. He doesn't appreciate the sacrifice I made. He just dismisses it and makes it sound like I was just out there wasting my time and having fun before we got married.”
“Not from what I hear. Dick Parker says you won a hell of a lot of prizes.”
“Four or five, but it meant a lot to me. All of a sudden, I just can't let go of it. And he doesn't even want to hear about it.”
“So what now? What are you going to do about it? Do what he wants, or raise some hell?” It's what Serena would do, without hesitating for a minute, but it was obvious to Paul that India was very different.
“I don't know the answer to that question,” she said, glancing at Sam. He was still happy as could be, standing next to the captain. He hadn't moved an inch since they started talking. “That's where I left off when I came up here. He told me to take my name off the agency roster.”
“Don't do it,” Paul said firmly. He didn't know her well, but he sensed easily that if she gave up that part of her completely, it would destroy something important in her. It was a form of expression for her, a form of communicating, and being and breathing. She couldn't give up taking pictures, and they both knew it. “Where is he now, by the way?”
“At home. In Westport.”
“Does he realize how upset you are about what he told you?”
“I don't think so. I think he discounts it completely.”
“As I said before, he's very foolish. My ex-wife came at me like a hurricane one day, after three years of taking it out on me in small, insidious ways. But once she came out of the closet with how angry she was, she went straight to the lawyers. I never knew what hit me.”
“I don't think I could do that, but I don't see things the same way anymore either. In just a month, I feel like my whole life is falling apart, and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what to say, or think, or believe. I'm not even sure I know who he is anymore …or worse, who I am. Two months ago, I was perfectly happy being a housewife. And now, all of a sudden, I'm standing in my darkroom all the time, crying. That reminds me,” she said suddenly. “I brought you something.” She had the envelope on the couch next to her and handed it to him with a shy smile. “Some of them are really terrific.”
He took the photographs out of the envelope then, and looked at them carefully. He was flattered by the shots she had taken of him, and smiled at the ones of Sam, but he was struck by how good she was, and what she had achieved at a considerable distance, with no preparation and no warning. She certainly hadn't lost her touch while doing car pools in Westport.
“You're very good, India,” he said quietly. “These are beautiful.” He started to hand them back to her and she told him he could keep them. She had only kept one of him and Sam, and another of him alone, taken at an interesting angle. She had left it clipped up in her darkroom. “You can't go on wasting your talent.”
“You must think I'm crazy telling you about all this nonsense.”
“No. I think you trust me, and you're right to do that. I won't ever say anything to betray you, India. I hope you know that.”
“I feel a little silly telling you all this, but I just felt as though we could talk. … I respect your judgment.”
“I've made my own mistakes, believe me.” But at least he hadn't this time, and he knew without a doubt that his marriage to Serena was solid. “I'm happy now,” he said to India. “Serena is an extraordinary woman. She doesn't take a lot of guff from me, and I respect her for it. Maybe that's what you need to do now. Go back to him and tell him what you want. It might do him some good to hear it.”
“I'm not sure he would. I tried before I came here, and he just brushed me off. He acts as though I took a job with him seventeen years ago. We made a deal, and now I have to live with it. The real problem,” she said, as tears filled her eyes and she looked at him, “is that I'm not even sure he loves me.”
“He probably does, and is too foolish to know it himself. But if he doesn't love you, as painful as it would be, you need to know it. You're too young and too beautiful to waste your life, and your career, for a man who doesn't love you. I think you know that, and that's what's making you so unhappy.” She nodded and he touched her hand and held it for a long moment. “It's a hell of a waste, India. I hardly know you, but I can tell you, you don't deserve that.”
“And then what? Leave him? That's what I keep asking myself.” Just as she had done the night before, when she tried pretending that Doug wasn't coming back and she was on her own with the children. “How do I even begin to do that? I can't work full-time and take care of my children.”
“Hopefully, you wouldn't have to work full-time, but only when you want to, on the stories you choose to take on. Hell, he owes you something after nearly twenty years. He has to support you.” He looked outraged.
“I haven't even thought that far. I guess, in reality, I just have to get back in my traces and keep going.”
“Why?” he asked her, and for a moment everything stopped inside her.
“Why not?”
“Because giving up who you are, what you do, and what you need is giving up your dreams, and if you give them up, sooner or later, it will kill you. I guarantee it. You'll shrivel up like a prune, and get bitter and angry and mean, and your insides will turn ugly. Look at the people you know, we all know them. Bitter, angry, miserable people who've been cheated in life and hate everyone for it.” She wondered, with a sense of rising panic, if he could already see that in her. And at the look in her eyes, he smiled reassuringly at her. “I don't mean you. But it could happen to you, if you let it. It could happen to any of us. It started to happen to me in my first marriage. I was a bastard to everyone, because I was miserable and I knew she hated me, and I hated her eventually and was too cowardly to say it to her, or to stop being there. Thank God she ended it, or we'd have destroyed each other. At least Serena and I like each other and enjoy what she's doing. I don't like it when she doesn't come on the boat, but she hates the boat, she doesn't hate me. There's a difference.” He was not only intelligent and sensitive, but he was inordinately smart about people, and India already knew that about him. “Do something, India. I'm begging you. Figure out what you want, and don't be afraid to go get it. The world is full of frightened, unhappy people. We don't need another one. And you're much too beautiful and too wonderful to become one. I won't let you.” She wondered for a second how he intended to stop her. What could he do? He was someone she had met the day before, and yet she had told him her whole life story, and all the problems she had suddenly discovered in her marriage. It was the oddest experience she'd ever had, but she trusted him completely, and she loved talking to him. And she knew with every fiber of her soul that she wasn't wrong to trust him.
“I can't even imagine how one comes back from where I've been for so long. What do you do?”
“First, you call your agent, and tell him you really want to go back to work. Then you figure out the rest.It'll come, at the right time, if you let it. You don't have to force it.” Just listening to him gave her a sense of freedom, and without thinking, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, as she would have an old friend or a brother.
“Thank you. I think you were the answer to a prayer or something. I've been feeling totally lost for the past month. And I didn't know what to do about it.”
“You're not lost, India. You're just beginning to find yourself. Give it time, and be patient. It's not easy to find your way back after all this time. You're just lucky you still have your talent.” But did she still have a husband? That was the question that was beginning to fill her with panic.
And then, as though on cue, Sam ran over to them. The boat was still heeling considerably, and he ran surefootedly across the deck to where they sat. They were almost in New Seabury and Sam wanted to know if they were going into the yacht club.
“We'll drop anchor and go in with the tender,” Paul explained, and the child looked excited about it.
“After lunch can we come back to the boat and swim?”
“Sure. We can sail the dinghy again too, if you'd like.” Sam nodded, grinning broadly. It all sounded great to him. And as she watched them, India felt grateful to Paul again, and she thought Serena was very lucky. Paul Ward was an incredible human being, and she already felt as though he had been a great friend to her. She felt as though they had known each other for-ever.
Two of the deckhands lowered the tender for them, and one of them stayed in it to take them to the yacht club. Paul got in first, and took India's hand as she got in, and Sam got in right behind her.
They had an easy, happy lunch, talking about a variety of things. They talked about sailing for most of it, and Sam's eyes were wide with admiration when Paul told them some of his adventures going around the world, and even about a hurricane he'd been in in the Caribbean, and a cyclone in the Indian Ocean.
After lunch, they went back to the boat, and first Sam swam, and then he and Paul sailed the dinghy, while India took pictures of them, and around the boat. She was having a great time. Paul and Sam waved to her from time to time, and they finally came back in. Paul took the Windsurfer out then, and India took more pictures of him. It was not an easy sport, and she was impressed by his skill, and the strength with which he rode it.
And then, finally, when they headed back to Harwich, the wind had died down, and they decided to use the motors. Sam was a little disappointed, but he was tired after a full day anyway. It had been a long day, and he fell asleep as he lay quietly in the cockpit. Paul and India both smiled looking at him.
“You're lucky to have him. I'd love to meet the others,” Paul said, looking at her warmly.
“I hope you will one of these days,” she said as the head steward brought them each a glass of white wine. Paul had asked her to stay on board for dinner, and she had accepted.
“Maybe we'll turn them all into sailors.”
“Maybe. Right now they all think that hanging out with their friends is more important.”
“I remember when Sean was that age, he nearly drove me crazy.” They exchanged a smile, as Sam stirred next to her and went on sleeping as she stroked his hair with one hand and held her wineglass with the other. Paul loved watching her with him. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone as loving. Children hadn't been a part of his life in a long time, and sailing with Sam that afternoon and the day before was everything he wished he had shared with Sean, but Sean had never taken any interest in his father's sailboats. “Will you be here all summer?” Paul asked her then, and she nodded.
“Doug is going to stay with us for three weeks in August. And then we'll go back to Westport. I guess we're going to be doing a lot of talking.” Paul nodded as he thought about it. He hoped she would come to some decisions that would be good for her. She deserved it. “Where will you be?”
“In Europe probably. We usually spend August in the south of France, and then I race in Italy in September.” It was a good life, and it sounded like fun to her, and then she asked if Serena would be going with him. “Not if she can come up with a better idea,” he laughed.
It was time for dinner then, and India woke Sam. He looked sleepy and confused when he woke up, and he smiled at her happily. He had been dreaming of sailing the Sea Star and then he saw Paul, and his smile widened, and he told him what he had been dreaming.
“Sounds pretty good to me. I dream about her too, especially when I haven't been on her in a while, but that doesn't happen too often.” He spent a lot of time on his boat, he had told India that afternoon, and did his business via phone and faxes.
The cook had made cold vichyssoise for them, pasta primavera and salad, and a cheeseburger for Sam, just the way India had told them he liked it, with french fries. They had peach sorbet for dessert, and delicious butter cookies that melted in your mouth. The meal was elegant and light, and they chatted as they had at lunch, and after dinner, the captain motored them in slowly to the yacht club. It was hard to believe the day was over. They had been with Paul for thirteen hours, and both India and Sam wished that they could stay forever.
“Would you like to come to the house for a drink?” India asked him as they stood on deck, all three of them looked sad that the day was ending.
“I should probably stay here. I've got some work to do, and your kids will want you to themselves after you've been gone all day. They probably think you ran away to sea, and are never coming back.” It was nearly nine o'clock by then. “Come back and see me soon, Sam,” Paul told him. “I'm going to miss you.”
“Me too.” Mother and son both felt as though they had been on a long vacation, and not just a day sail. Being on board with him had that kind of quality. It had been a wonderful day, and she was grateful for the things he had said to her. He had actually helped her, and she felt calmer than she had in weeks, and before she left, she thanked him for it.“Just don't be afraid to do what you have to,” he said gently. “You can do it.”
“I hope so,” she said softly. “I'll send you some pictures.” He kissed her cheek then, and shook Sam's hand, and they left the boat, feeling tired and content, and knowing they had made a friend. She didn't know if she'd see him again before he left, but she knew that whether she did or not, she would never forget him. In some ways, she suspected he had changed her life forever. He had given her the gift of courage. And with courage came freedom.