Danielle Steel - Bittersweet

Paul still called her every day, and he was finally beginning to sound better. He still had bad dreams, but he had regained his sense of humor, and he was starting to talk about business. And although he wouldn't admit it, India suspected that he missed it. Serena had been gone for six months by then, and although India knew he still missed her desperately, he was starting to tell some of the funnier stories about her, about the outrageous things she'd done, the people she had insulted brilliantly, and the vendettas she had engaged in. They painted her in a less saintly light than the things he had said about her before that. And it indicated he hadn't entirely lost his perspective about her. But what also showed, each time they spoke, was how much he still loved her.

He had been a huge support to India once Doug was gone, and he always said she was better off, and when she was down, he had trouble seeing why she missed him. The fact that she had been married to Doug for longer than he had known his wife, somehow escaped him. He thought Doug was a bastard and India was well rid of him, and he was hard put to see why she was sometimes sad about it. It was hard for him to under-stand that she had not only lost a husband, but a life, and all the trappings that went with it, just as he had.

In early March he was still on the Sea Star , but she was beginning to think he sounded restless. She knew his moods by then, his quirks, his needs, his terrors, and his pet peeves. In an odd way sometimes it almost felt as though they were married. They knew so much about each other. And he knew all the same things about her. But he still insisted, when they talked about it, that he was never going to be the light at the end of the tunnel for her. He would always be there for her, he claimed, as a friend, but he kept telling her she had to find someone to go out with.

“Okay, start leaving my phone number on bathroom walls in the south of France. I haven't seen anyone in Westport.”

“You're not trying,” he scolded.

“You're right. They're all ugly, stupid, or married. Or alcoholics. There are a lot of those here. And I don't need one.”

“Too bad. I was about to suggest AA meetings. That might be a good place to find a date,” he teased.

“Be nice, or I'll start shipping divorcees to the boat for you, and believe me, that would be pretty scary.” They had an easy relationship that allowed for both solace and humor, and they had been talking to each other daily for so long that neither of them could imagine living without it, though it wrought havoc on her phone bill. And the strangest part of it was that she had no idea when she would see him again, if ever. This seemed to be all they wanted. The romantic overtone between them had begun to die down, and after Doug left in January, India seemed to be less concerned about it. Paul had made himself clear to her before that, about his intentions with her, or lack of them, and whatever electricity they had once felt, seemed to have gone underground for a long time now. They were more like brother and sister.

So she felt quite comfortable telling him about a man she had met at Sam's soccer game, who was so repulsive she had actually taken a picture of him. He was fat, bald, rude, chewed gum, picked his nose, had belched in her face, and then asked her for a date on Tuesday.

“And what did you say to him?” Paul asked, sounding amused. He loved listening to her stories. In spite of all her troubles, she still had a mischievous sense of humor.

“I told him I'd meet him at the Village Grille, of course. Hell, do you think I want to be an old maid forever?” But the truth was, she did now. She really didn't want to find anyone, she was still smarting from the last one. And she got what she needed from their phone calls. In some ways, it was keeping her from getting her feet wet. And she was still trying hard not to.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Paul said, feigning disappointment.

“Why?” she teased him. “Are you jealous?”

“Obviously. But aside from that, I'm flying in to New York next week, and I thought maybe we could have lunch or something … or even dinner …but now that you're busy …”

“You're what}” She couldn't believe what he was saying. She had begun to think he would be on the Sea Star forever, and was merely a figment of her imagination. “Do you mean that?”

“There's a board meeting my partners say I have to attend, so I thought I'd see how New York looks after all this time, and …well, you know …even the Sea Star gets a little boring.”

“I never thought I'd hear you say that,” she said, beaming.

“Neither did I. Thank God Serena can't hear me.” But he didn't sound as sad now when he talked about her.

“When are you coming?”

“Sunday night.” He'd been wrestling with the idea for weeks, and hadn't said anything to her. He didn't want to get her hopes up. And he was still a little nervous about seeing her. For all his brave words, there was something about her that touched him deeply. “Any chance you want to meet me?” He felt like a kid asking for a date as he said it.

“At the airport?”

“Well, yes, that's usual. I'm not arriving by boat this time. Would that be a nuisance, coming in from Westport?”

“I think it could be arranged.” And then she wondered. “When did you decide this?” She wondered if he had decided on the spur of the moment, or if he'd planned it.

“About a week ago. I didn't say anything, because I wanted to be sure I meant it. But I bought my ticket this morning, so I guess I'm coming. It'll be good to see you, India.” There was something odd about the way he said it, but she decided it was just emotional for him coming back to New York, and staying at his apartment. He had left the day after the funeral and hadn't been back since then. And she still remembered all too clearly how devastated he had looked at Saint Ignatius. But at least he'd had some time to heal in the meantime.

“I can't wait to see you,” she said simply, wondering how long he was staying, but not wanting to ask him. She didn't know if he was coming home for good, or just trying it on for size. She suspected he didn't know either, and didn't want to press him. “I guess I'll have to cancel my date then. The sacrifices we make for our friends …”

“Keep his number. You still might need it.” They chatted for a few minutes, and then hung up. He promised to give her the details of his arrival later. And in Westport, India sat looking out the window for a long time, looking for a sign of spring. But there was none. The trees were still bare, the ground was bleak. But knowing he was coming back made her feel as though something ought to be in bloom again. They had both survived such a long, lonely winter. They deserved some small reward for what they'd gone through. But life didn't always give rewards, she knew by then. There were no prizes for despair, or tragedy, or loss, or courage. There was just more of the same. And now and then, some small flower peeking through the snow, to spur you on, and give you hope, and remind you of better days. To remind you that one day, after the winter, there would be spring, and eventually summer.

But for the moment, there was still no sign of it for her. There were long, lonely days, and nothing more to hang on to but his phone calls. And now he was coming home. But as she walked slowly upstairs with a smile, she told herself it meant nothing. But in spite of that, it would be good to see him.

Chapter 20

INDIA DROVE her station wagon to the airport on Sunday night, after leaving the children with a sitter. There was a light rain falling, and the traffic was bad, and it seemed to take forever. But she had given herself plenty of time for delays, and when she parked the car in the garage, she still had half an hour to spare before Paul got there.