Bittersweet (8 page)

There were her photographs framed on the walls of the darkroom too, and she looked them over carefully for a moment as she stood there. They were good, very good, and captured a feeling and emotion that was almost like looking into a painting. She saw the ravaged faces of hungry children there, and a child sitting alone on a rock holding a doll, crying, while an entire village in Kenya burned behind her. There were faces of old men, and injured soldiers, and a woman laughing with sheer joy as she held her newborn baby. India had helped deliver it, and she still remembered that moment. It had been in a tiny hut somewhere outside Quito when she was in the Peace Corps. They were fragments of her life, frozen in time, and framed, so she could look at them forever. It was still hard for her to believe that all of that was gone from her life now. It had been an exchange she had made, a fair trade she always thought, only now she wondered. Had she gotten enough in return for what she'd given up? She knew she had when she thought of her children. But beyond that, what did she have now? And once the children
were grown, what would she have then? Those were the questions she could no longer answer.

She checked the chemicals and the equipment, and made some notes, and then quietly turned off the light and went back to her bedroom. She took off her clothes and put her nightgown on, and then got into bed and turned off the light, and lay there for a long time, listening to the ocean. It was a peaceful sound she forgot every year, and then remembered when she came back here. It lulled her to sleep at night, and she lay listening to it when she woke in the morning. She loved the solemnity of it, the comfort it offered her. It was one of the things she loved about being here. And as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, she savored the fact that she was alone here this time, with only her children, her memories, and the ocean. For now at least, it was all she wanted.

T
HE SUN
was brilliant when she awoke the next day in Harwich, and the ocean was shimmering as though it were trimmed in silver. The kids were already up, and helping themselves to cereal when she walked in. She was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and sandals, with her hair piled up on her head, held by two old tortoise-shell pins, and she was unaware of it, but she looked very pretty.

“What's everybody doing today?” she asked as she put a pot of coffee on. It seemed silly to do it just for herself, but she loved sitting on the deck, with a cup of coffee and reading, glancing up occasionally to look at the ocean. It was one of her favorite Cape Cod pastimes.

“I'm going over to see the Boardmans,” Jessica was quick to say. They had three older teenage sons, and a daughter her own age. Jessica had grown up with them, and loved them, and the boys were of particular interest
to her now that two of them were in high school, and the third one was a freshman in college.

Jason had a friend down the street too, and had called him and made plans the night before to spend the day with him. Aimee wanted to go swimming at a friend's, and India promised to call and arrange it as soon as she had a cup of coffee, and Sam wanted to walk down the beach with her, and Crockett, the Labrador retriever. It sounded like a good plan to her, and she promised to walk with him a little later. In the meantime, he was happy playing with the toys he had left there the year before, and he was anxious to get his bike out.

By ten o'clock they were all on their way, and she and Sam walked down the steps to the beach, with the dog just behind them. Sam had brought a ball, and he kept throwing it for the dog, who fetched it devotedly, even when Sam threw it in the water. And India walked along happily, watching them, with her camera slung over her shoulder. After nearly thirty years of carrying it, it seemed like part of her body. Her children couldn't imagine seeing her without it.

They had walked almost a mile down the beach before they saw anyone they knew. It was still early in the season and people were only just beginning to arrive for the summer. The first friends they met were a couple she and Doug had known for years. They were both surgeons, from Boston. He was a little older than Doug, and she was a year or two older than he, somewhere near fifty. They had a son at Harvard Medical School, but for the past two years he hadn't come to the Cape,
he was too busy, but they were both thrilled that he had decided to follow in their footsteps. They were Jenny and Dick Parker. And they smiled the moment they saw India and Sam approaching.

“I wondered when you'd get here,” Jenny said with a look of delight. India had had a Christmas card from them, as usual, but they rarely spoke during the winter. They only saw each other in the summer at the Cape.

“We came up last night,” India explained. “Doug won't be up for a couple of weeks though. He has too many new clients.”

“That's too bad,” Dick said, as he wrestled with Sam and the dog barked in excitement, running around them in circles. “We're having a party on the Fourth, I was hoping you'd come. You'll have to come without him. And bring the kids. Jenny made me hire a cook this time, after I burned all the ribs and hamburgers last year.”

“The steaks were great though,” India said with a smile, remembering it perfectly. The ribs had gone up in flames, while the hamburgers turned to ashes.

“Thank you for remembering.” Dick grinned at her. He was happy to see her, and he had always had a special fondness for her children, as was evident the way he was playing with Sam. “I hope you will all come.”

“We'd love it. Who else is here?” India asked, and Jenny went down the list of the latest arrivals. There were already a fair number of the regulars in residence, which would be nice for the children.

“And we're having friends up over the Fourth too,” Jenny explained. They always had friends at the house with them, so it was nothing unusual, but this time she
seemed especially eager to tell India about her guests. “Serena Smith and her husband will be here.”

“The writer?” India looked momentarily startled. She was on the bestseller list constantly with her steamy novels. And India had always had the impression that she was an interesting woman.

“I went to college with her,” Jenny explained. “We kind of lost touch over the years, although I knew her pretty well then. I ran into her in New York this year. She's a lot of fun, and I like her husband.”

“And wait till you see his sailboat,” Dick said admiringly. “They sailed around the world with it, and it's really quite something. They're going to sail it up from New York with half a dozen friends. They're planning to spend a week here. You have to bring the kids over to see it.”

“Let us know when it's here,” India said, and Dick laughed.

“I don't think I'll have to. You can't miss it. It's a hundred and seventy feet long, with a crew of nine. They I've awfully well, but they're nice people. I think you'll like them. It's a shame Doug won't be here.”

“He'll be heartbroken to miss it,” India said politely. There was no need to explain to them that just looking at a boat, Doug got seasick. But she didn't, and she knew that Sam in particular would be excited to see it.

“I'm sure he knows who Paul is. He's in international banking, Paul Ward.” He had been on the cover of
Time
twice in the past few years, and she'd read about him in the
Wall Street Journal.
Somehow she had never connected him with Serena Smith though. She guessed that he was somewhere in his mid-fifties.

“It'll be fun to meet them. We're getting awfully fancy here this year, aren't we? With famous authors and big yachts, and international financiers. It makes the rest of us look a little dull by comparison, doesn't it?” India smiled at them. They always seemed to have an interesting group of people around them.

“I wouldn't call you dull, my dear,” Dick said with a grin, putting an arm around her shoulders. He was glad to see her. He shared her passion for photography, although he was only an amateur, but he had taken some wonderful photographs of the children. “Did you do any assignments this winter?”

“Nothing since Harlem,” she said sadly, and then she told him about the job she'd turned down in Korea.

“That would have been a tough one,” he said after she explained it to him.

“I couldn't leave the children for a month. Doug got mad just hearing about it. He doesn't really want me doing any work.”

“That would be a real crime with a talent like yours,” he said with a thoughtful look, while Jenny chatted with Sam about the sports he'd played that winter. “You should talk Doug into letting you do more work instead of less,” he said seriously, which reminded her of their fateful dinner.

“Doug definitely does not share that point of view,” she said with a rueful smile at their old friend. “He doesn't think work and motherhood are a good mix, I'm afraid.” Something in her eyes told Dick that this was a painful subject for her.

“Let Jenny talk to him about it. I suggested she retire once, about five years ago, and she almost killed me. I
just thought she was working too hard, teaching and doing surgery, and she almost divorced me. I don't think I'll try that again until she's eighty.” He glanced lovingly at his wife with a whimsical expression.

“Don't even think about it then,” Jenny warned him with a grin, joining their conversation. “I'm going to teach till I'm at least a hundred.”

“She will too,” he said, smiling at India. He was always bowled over by how beautiful India was, and how natural. She seemed completely unaware of her effect on people. She was so used to watching them through a lens, that it never dawned on her that anyone was looking at her. She told him about a new camera she'd bought then, explained it to him in detail, and promised to let him try it. She had made a point of bringing it with her. And he loved visiting her darkroom. She had even taught him how to use it. He had always been deeply impressed by her talent, far more so than Doug, who had long since come to take it for granted.

The Parkers said they had to go back to their house then to meet some friends, and she promised to come and visit with Sam in a day or two, and encouraged them to drop by any time they wanted.

“Don't forget the Fourth!” they reminded her as she and Sam started to walk on, with Crockett dancing behind them.

“We'll be there,” she promised with a wave, as she and Sam walked away hand in hand, and Dick Parker told his wife how happy he was to see them.

“It's ridiculous that Doug doesn't want her to work,” Jenny said as they walked down the beach, thinking about India's comment to them. “She's not just some
little photographer. She did some really fantastic things before they were married.”

“They have a lot of kids though,” he said, trying to see both sides of the argument. He'd always suspected that was how Doug felt about it. He rarely talked about India's photographs, and didn't make much fuss about them.

“So what?” Jenny was annoyed at the excuse, it seemed an inadequate reason to her for India not to take assignments wherever she wanted. “They could get someone to help with the kids. She can't play nursemaid forever, just to soothe his ego.”

“Okay, okay, Attila, I get it,” he teased her. “Tell Doug, don't yell at me.”

“I'm sorry.” She smiled at her husband as he put an arm around her. They had been married since their Harvard days, and were crazy about each other. “I just hate it when men take positions like that. It's so damn unfair. What if she told him to quit his job and take care of the kids? He'd think she was crazy.”

“No kidding. Tell me about it, Dr. Parker.”

“All right, all right. So Simone de Beauvoir was my role model. So kill me.”

“It's okay, you can beat me up anytime you want. I happen to love you, even if you do have strong opinions on an impressive number of subjects.”

“Would you love me if I didn't?” There was still a sparkle in her eyes when she looked at him, and it was obvious how much they loved each other.

“Probably not as much, and I'd have gotten bored years ago.” Being married to Jenny Parker had been anything but boring. The only thing he regretted about
being married to her was not having had more children. But she had always been too involved in her work to have more than their son, and he was happy to have the one they did have. Their son, Phillip, was just like his mother, and they both thought he was going to make a great physician. For the moment, he was determined to go into pediatrics, and kids seemed to love him. They both felt it was a good decision.

And as they walked far down the beach, Sam was talking to his mother about the Parkers. He loved seeing them, and Dick's comments about the sailboat hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

“Did you hear about the sailboat their friends are bringing up on the Fourth?” India asked Sam, and he nodded. “It sounds like a really big one.”

“Think they'll let us go on it?” Sam asked with interest. He loved boats and this year he was going to take a sailing class at the yacht club.

“It sounds like it. Dick said he'd take us on it.” Sam's eyes were filled with excitement at the prospect, and India couldn't wait to meet Serena. She'd read two or three of her books and loved them, although she hadn't had time to read the new ones.

When they got to the end of the beach, they turned back, and walked home with their feet in the water. Sam threw the ball for the dog, and he kept retrieving it, and when they got home, the others were still out, and India made lunch, and then they took their bikes out. They rode past friends' houses, and stopped in to say hello. It felt good just being there, in a place they loved, with familiar people. It was the perfect spot for all of them. And at the last house, Sam ran into a whole group of his
friends, and India agreed to let him stay for dinner. She rode back to the house alone, and when she got there, the phone was ringing. She thought it might be Doug, and hesitated for a moment before she answered. She still wasn't anxious to talk to him. But when she picked it up, it was Dick Parker.

“The Wards just called,” he told her, sounding excited. “They're coming up tomorrow. Or at least he is, with a boatful of people. She's flying in for the weekend. I wanted to let you know, so you could bring Sam over. Paul says they'll be here in the morning. We'll call you.”