Bittersweet (11 page)

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.

T
HE 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.