Bittersweet (13 page)

“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.