“You have to make that decision, India. No one else can make it for you. You know what I think.”

“I know what Serena would do,” India said with a rueful smile. “I wish I were as gutsy as she is.”

“You are in your own way. You just don't know it.”But in her heart of hearts, India knew she wasn't. Serena wouldn't have put up with Doug for five minutes, but she wouldn't have married him either. India had, and now she had to I've with it. But the thought of letting him threaten her depressed her. He wasn't giving her much to go on these days, no warmth, no understanding, no support and no affection. And she realized now that he hadn't in a long time. They had just been involved in the mechanics of raising their children. And suddenly that wasn't enough any longer. “How's my friend Sam?” Paul asked her then, and they both smiled as they thought of him.

“Sound asleep right this minute. He's been having fun with his friends, and telling everyone about the Sea Starr

“I wish he were here with me. … I wish you were too,” he said in an odd tone, which ran the same current of electricity through her she had felt before when talking to him. There was something powerful about him, and she wasn't sure what he was saying, or why he was calling. He wasn't making any kind of overt pass at her, and she somehow knew that he wouldn't. But she also sensed that he liked her. “You'd love the crossing. I just know it. It's so peaceful.” It was one of his favorite things to do. He read and slept, and took the watch whenever he felt like it, as he had just done. It was why he had called her at that ungodly hour. But he had been thinking of her all night, as he looked out over the ocean, and finally decided to call her. “We'll be going to the south of France in a few days. But I have to do some business in Paris first. Serena is going to fly over to meet me. Paris is just her cup of tea. Mine too,” he confessed. It was one of his favorite cities.

“I haven't been there in ages'. India said dreamily, remembering the last time she'd been there. She'd been very young and stayed at a youth hostel. She was sure he stayed someplace like the Ritz or the Plaza Athenee or the Crillon. “Where do you stay?”

“At the Ritz. Serena loves it. I sometimes stay at the Crillon. But she prefers the Ritz. I'm not sure I can tell the difference. I don't speak French, she does, of course. I always feel like a fool trying to talk to cabdrivers and negotiate my way around Paris. Do you speak French, India?”

“Enough to get around and feed myself. But not enough to make intelligent conversation. I actually learned a lot when I spent six weeks in Morocco once, but my French friends all made fun of my accent. But at least I can get by in a taxi, or at the press club.”

“Serena spent a year at the Sorbonne. She speaks amazing French.” Serena was, in every possible way, a tough act to follow. More than tough. Impossible. But no one was ever going to follow in her footsteps. It was easy to see that they were crazy about each other. “When do you go back to Westport, by the way?”

“Not till the end of August.” They didn't have a lot to talk about, but it was nice just listening to him, and knowing where he was, at four o'clock in the morning. “The kids have to go back to school then. And I have to get them organized.” He laughed at the thought of it. He wanted something more for her, and hoped she would have the courage to reach out and take it. “How long will you be in Europe?”

“I'll Labor Day. But Serena has to go back to L.A. before that. I'm not sure she minds. She builds herself outs, so she doesn't have to stay anywhere for too long. She's very independent, and she gets antsy, particularly on the boat.”

“She'd hate it here then. I don't do anything but lie on the beach all day, and come up to the house at six o'clock to cook dinner.”

“It sounds like the good life to me, and the kids must love it.”

“They do. But life is a lot more fun on the Sea Star, believe me. That seems like the perfect existence.”

“It is. For the right people. You have to really love that life, being on boats, sailing and being out on the ocean. I think it's either in your blood or it isn't. It's not an acquired taste for most people. You fall in love with it early, like I did. I was about Sam's age when I first realized how much I loved it.”

“I never knew how wonderful it was until we sailed on your boat. It's an incredible way to start. I'm afraid you've spoiled me forever. Not to mention Sam, who'll never want anything less now.”

“Oh yes, he will. He's a real sailor like me. He even loved the dinghy. That's the true test, and he passed it with flying colors.”

“I think I'll stick to the big ones.”

“That's probably a good decision. There'll be a lot of beautiful boats here, especially some lovely classics. One of these days, I'm going to buy one. Serena will probably divorce me when I do it. One boat is bad enough, but two boats? I don't think I'd have the guts to tell her.” He laughed at the prospect.

“She probably expects it of you,” India said, laughing. It was so good to hear him, and talk to him. If she closed her eyes, she could just see him standing on the deck of die Sea Star, with Sam beside him, or talking to her in the cockpit, while Sam chatted with the captain. They had had such a terrific day when they sailed with him.

He told her then about the races he was going to in Sardinia, and the people he was going to see, the Aga Khan among them.

“It's a shame you travel in such shabby circles, Paul,” India teased him. “It's a long way from Westport.”

“So is Botswana, and you need to get back there,” he pushed her. He could sense that she still needed encouragement and prodding. Maybe now more than ever, with her husband threatening her. It was so rotten of him to do that. Paul hated to think of her wasting her talent, but he suspected easily that Doug was threatened. He didn't want India to have a more interesting life than he did. It would make his life seem meaningless and boring. Paul couldn't help wondering if Doug was jealous of her.

“Sometimes I wonder if I'll see any of those places again,” she said sadly. “I can't even get Doug to Europe.”

“I wish you were here with us. I know you'd love it. By the way, I saw the mock-up of Serena's book cover with die picture you took on it. It looks fantastic.”

“I'm glad. It was fun to do it.” India smiled, thinking of the morning she had spent with her.

They talked for a few more minutes, and she thought he sounded tired. It was late for him.

“I'd better go now,” he said after a few more minutes of chatting with her. “We have a little navigating to do. We're getting closer. And the sun will be coming up soon.” She could just imagine him on the boat, talking to her, as they approached Gibraltar. It sounded exquisitely exotic. And very romantic. “I suppose you'll be going to sleep now.” He liked thinking of her there, in her quiet life on Cape Cod. It seemed wonderfully peaceful, and he was glad he had been there to meet her. “Think about the Sea Star, and hopefully, one of these days, you and Sam will be on it again.”

“I can't think of anything nicer.”

“I can,” he said, and there was a sudden silence between them. She didn't know what to say then. She was glad she had met him, and she valued the friendship he offered her. Enough not to jeopardize it, or say anything foolish she'd regret. But he didn't say anything more to her either. They both knew better.

She thanked him for calling, and they hung up a moment later. And she did exactly as he had suggested. She lay in bed and thought of him sailing toward Gibraltar on the Sea Star. She imagined it all lit up as it had been when it drifted past her house that night when he'd been there, looking like a magic island filled with dreams and happy people. And now she could see him on the bridge, alone in the dark just before the dawn, heading toward Gibraltar. But she didn't dream of Paul that night, or his pleasant life on the Sea Star. Instead, she had nightmares about Doug, and he was shouting at her. That was her reality, and the one she had to resolve or live with. For her, the Sea Star was nothing more than a dream, a distant star in someone else's heaven.





Chapter 10

WHEN DOUG arrived in Harwich for his three-week vacation, there was still tension between them. The subject of her working never came up again, nor did any of the things they'd said before, but the remaining aura their words had left behind hung over them like a constant cloud of vapor. At times, India felt as though she could hardly see through it, and she felt as though she were moving through a fog, and living with a stranger. The children noticed it as well, but none of them said anything. It would have been too frightening for any of them to acknowledge the malaise that remained tangible but unspoken and unresolved between their parents. It was like a bad smell that hung in the air and couldn't be ignored. But it was only in the last few days of their stay in Harwich that India finally said something to him.

“What are we going to do about all this when we go back?” she asked cautiously. The children were out, spending final moments with their friends. There was always a kind of frenzy about the end of the vacation. Usually, they gave a barbecue, but they had decided not to this year. That in itself was a statement of sorts, but India didn't question Doug's decision when he said he didn't want to do it. Neither did she. She was tired of the pretense that everything was all right between them. For the first time in seventeen years, it wasn't. The angry seeds that had been sown in June had grown into a tree whose branches had begun to choke them. And India didn't know whether to chop it down, or hope it would wither on its own. The solution to the problem was still a mystery to her.

“What do you mean?” Doug pretended not to know what she was talking about, but it was hard to ignore the unfriendly atmosphere between them, and she wanted to do something about it before they went home, and it poisoned their daily routine. It was bad enough to have sacrificed the summer to it, but a line had to be drawn somewhere before it was too late.

“It's been a pretty lousy summer, wouldn't you say?” India said, looking across the kitchen table at him. They had just had lunch, and neither of them had said a word to each other.

“We've both been busy. Some years are like that,” he said vaguely, but they both knew it was a lie. No year had ever been like this between them, and she hoped it would never be like this again.

“You've been busy, and we've both been upset and angry. I'd like to know where things stand. We can't go on like this forever. Something's got to ease up, or we'll both go nuts.” It was just too lonely, never speaking to each other, never touching, each of them trapped on separate islands with no boat, no bridge to join them. She had never felt as alone as this in her entire life. She felt abandoned by him, deserted. He felt she had betrayed him, by saying the things she had, pressing him about going back to work, and asking him to give more than he ever had.

“Maybe I should ask you where you stand? That's what this is all about, isn't it? Your pushing me about going back to work. Is that what you still have in mind when we go back to Westport?” But she was no longer sure now. The price was high. Maybe too high. He had said it was a deal-breaker, and she believed him, and she wasn't prepared to break the deal they had, not yet at least, and maybe never.

“All I wanted to do was let them know that I'd be willing to do a story from time to time, preferably close to home, and nothing on a long assignment. I just want to open the door a crack.”

“That crack will eventually flood our lives and drown us. You know that. In fact, I think it's what you have in mind, India, and you know it.”

“You're wrong, Doug. I turned down the job in Korea. I'm not looking to destroy our lives, just save mine.” But she had realized it was more than that. Even if he let her do an assignment from time to time, it didn't solve the problem of how he felt about her, how dry and dreary he felt about their life. She knew now that she was something less than the woman he loved. She was a helpmate, a convenience, a caretaker for his children. But there was no passion in what he felt for her, no excitement, no romance. She could no longer fool herself about their marriage—whether she worked or not.

“I told you very clearly,” he went on, “how I felt about your working. None of that has changed. What you do about it is your choice. If you want to take that chance, go ahead.”