Danielle Steel - Bittersweet

Within minutes, the others left the table, and not knowing what else to do, he looked at her, with worry in his eyes. “What happened to you?” he asked. She hadn't had the scar when he last saw her in New York, and it was very long and very fresh. And the day before, when he had seen her in the morning, she had had an orthopedic collar around her neck. She still wore it now and then when her neck hurt. And it had after the long trip. And now he gently touched the scar and she pulled away to avoid his touch.

“It's a dueling scar,” she said, trying to make light of it, but he was not amused. “I had an accident,” she said simply.

“In a car?” She nodded. “When?” He wanted to know all the details, what had happened to her since he had left her. He knew that all the other scars he'd given her were buried too deeply to see, unlike the one on her face.

“A while ago,” she said vaguely. But just looking at her, he knew, and he felt sick.

“Was it right afterward?” He was tormented by the thought of it, and felt even more guilty than he had at first. He knew just from looking at her that it must have been right after he ended it with her.

“That night” was all she said.

“That night?” he repeated, looking horrified. “On your way home?” She nodded. “I knew I shouldn't have let you drive. I had an awful feeling about it.”

“So did I,” she said, thinking of what he had done to her. She might have died. And nearly had. And wished she had for a while anyway.

“Was it very bad?”

“Bad enough.”

“Why didn't you tell me when you called the next day?”

“It wasn't your problem anymore. It was mine.” He remembered then how strange she had sounded when she had called him, giddy and out of it and a little incoherent. But he had assumed she was just terribly upset, which she was.

“I feel terrible. What can I say?”

“Don't worry about it. I'm fine.” But her eyes told him a different tale. She was trying to keep her distance from him physically, since she couldn't otherwise. But so far nothing had worked, and being so constantly close to him, and seeing what was in his eyes didn't help. She knew him too well, and knew his pain, just as he knew hers. And she could see too that he still felt all the same things she did. He always had. No matter what he had said to her, he hadn't stopped loving her. And she could still see it now. Somehow, that made it worse. It was all such a waste. He had wasted two lives, their happiness, their future. She wondered if that was why he had come here too. To escape. Just as she had come here to escape her memories of him. It was bittersweet irony that they had both come to the same place. God's little sense of humor hard at work again. Or destiny perhaps.

“How are we going to do this?” she finally looked at him and asked. There was obviously no way they could stay apart here. The circumstances were impossible, and looking at him made her realize how hopeless it was.

“Maybe we just have to grit our teeth and live with it for a while,” he said, searching her eyes. “I'm so sorry, India. Never in a million years did I think you'd be here.”

“Neither did I. They just offered me this story a week ago. It sounded great, and Doug and his girlfriend agreed to take care of the kids.”

“Both of them?” Paul looked surprised. That was new since he'd been on the scene.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asked, referring to the airlifts she knew he was organizing. She had heard from everyone in the camp what an extraordinary job he and his friends had done. Paul was the organizer, the chief pilot, and he was providing the lion's share of the funding.

“Since March,” he said quietly. “When I went back to the boat, I knew I couldn't just sit there for the rest of my life.”

“Where is it now?”

“In Antibes. I thought if I really got the airlifts going again, and one of the other guys to run them, I could go back by next summer. If not, I can always stay here.” It was a hell of a life for him, but he was doing a wonderful thing. “Anyway, I'll stay out of your hair as much as I can for the next three weeks. We've got a couple of runs to do this week anyway. Other than that, there isn't much I can do. They need me here. And they also need you.” The international press attention she was going to give them was necessary for the very survival of the project, and attracting funds. She was as important as he was. Neither of them could just leave.

“It'll be all right,” she said slowly, thinking about it. There had to be a way to make it work. They were both there with good intentions, there was no reason why they should be punished for their good deeds. And then she looked up at him sadly. For six months, he had given her so much hope, and then he had taken it all away. But now she had to find that for herself, and so did he. “Maybe this will sound crazy to you, it does to me a little bit,” and it hadn't been what he wanted, she knew. He had made that very clear. “But maybe we can be friends. That's where all this started, way at the beginning. Maybe that's where it has to end. It could be that's why this happened to us, that we found each other here. As though some higher power decided to make us face each other, and make amends.”

“You have nothing to make amends for, India,” he said fairly. “You never did anything to me.”

“I scared you. That's enough. I tried to lure you into doing something you didn't want.” But they both knew that wasn't true. He was the one who had told her he loved her. He had opened a door and invited her in. And then, within days, threw her out again, and slammed the door on her forever.

“I scared myself,” Paul said honestly, “you didn't scare me. I was the one who hurt you. At least remember that. If anyone should feel guilty here it's me.” She couldn't deny that, but in spite of that, she thought that it was simplest if they put it behind them. Whatever she still felt for him, or the hurt he had caused her, there was no room for any of that here.

“You told me long before you came home that you didn't want to be the light at the end of the tunnel for me. And you aren't. But you gave me fair warning, you made it very clear.” She remembered standing in yet another freezing cold phone booth while she listened to him. His words had seemed even colder to her than the air around her. The only thing that had confused her was that, in March, he had changed his mind. But only for a few days. That brief moment was an aberration, a shattered dream, a time that would never come again. And whatever hope she had now, she knew she had to find for herself. And so did he. She could no longer give it to him. And he didn't want it from her. He wanted his memories of Serena, his hold on the past, and his terrors all around him. And he didn't want India. She knew that very clearly. “We have to put what happened behind us. This is some kind of test, for both of us. We have to meet the challenge.” She smiled at him sadly, stood up, and touched his hand. But just looking at her, and listening to what she said, he was confused again. But he had understood the wisdom of what she'd said. “Can we be friends?” she asked him point-blank.

“I'm not sure I can,” he said honestly. Just being close to her was impossible for him.

“We have to. For three weeks anyway.” She was the one who had chosen the high road. He had preferred to close the door in her face, not to call her, or let her call him. And she had no intention of ever calling him again. But for the next three weeks, in whatever way she had to, she would be his friend. She held out her hand to shake his, but Paul refused, and kept his hand in his pocket.

“I'll see what I can do” was all he said, and then he stood up and walked away. He wasn't angry at her, but he still felt very badly, and seeing her only made it worse. He had also missed her desperately each and every day. And now, seeing her reopened all the same wounds. But he still belonged to Serena and he knew it. But he also knew that there was a lot of wisdom, and generosity of spirit, in what India had said. And now he had to absorb it, and decide how he felt about it. India already knew what she felt about him. And if they could no longer be lovers, for now, at least, she was willing to be his friend.