Bittersweet (10 page)

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.