Bittersweet Page 10

  “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 co
uld 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.”