In the meantime, he had been given a single cell, after his attorneys had pulled some strings. He was comfortable, and wasn't in any great danger. The other inmates were there for white-collar crimes. In fact, most of them had committed crimes similar to his, on a much smaller scale. If anything, he was considered a hero among the men. There were conjugal visits for those of them who were married, they were allowed to have packages, and the Wall Street Journal was widely read by most of the inmates. It was called the country club of federal prisons, but a prison was nonetheless what it was. He missed his freedom, his wife, and his children. He wasn't sorry for what he'd done, but he was desperately sorry he had gotten caught.

Sarah had come to see him with the children in the first institution he'd been in, in Dublin, southeast of Oakland, while he was being processed. It had been uncomfortable, frightening, and a shock for all of them. Visiting him in prison now was more like visiting a hospital or a bad hotel in the forest. There was a small town attached to it where Sarah and the children could stay. Sarah could have had conjugal visits with him, as their divorce wasn't final yet, but as far as she was concerned the marriage was over, and he regretted that too, as much as the sorrow he'd caused her. He had seen it so clearly in her eyes the last time she visited him with their children, two months before. This was the first time he was seeing them that summer. It wasn't an easy place to get to, and they had been away. Sarah and the children had been in Bermuda with her parents since June.

He was nervous as he waited for them on a hot August morning. He pressed his khaki pants and shirt, and shined his regulation brown leather shoes. Among all the other things he missed, he missed his custom-made British shoes.

When visiting time came, he wandered down to the grassy area at the front of the camp. Inmates’ children played there, while husbands and wives talked, kissed, and held hands. And then, as he watched the road intently, he saw them drive up. Sarah parked the car, and took a picnic basket out of the back. Visitors were allowed to bring food. Oliver was walking along beside her, holding on to her skirt with a cautious look, and Molly bounced along with a doll under her arm. For a moment, he felt tears sting his eyes, and then Sarah saw him. She waved, walked through the checkpoint, where they searched the basket she'd brought, and then all three of them were allowed inside. She was smiling at him as they approached him. He could see that she had put on a little weight, and looked less gaunt than she had before the summer, after the trial. Molly rushed into his arms, and Oliver hung back for a minute and then approached him with a little bit of caution. And then Seth met Sarah's eyes. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and set down the basket, as their children ran around them.

“You look good, Sarah.”

“So do you, Seth,” she said, feeling awkward at first. It had been a while and so much had changed. He e-mailed her from time to time, and she answered him, telling him about the kids. He would have liked to say more to her, but no longer dared. She had set boundaries he had no choice but to respect. He didn't tell her that he missed her, although he did. And she didn't tell him how hard it still was for her without him. There was no longer room for that in what they shared. The anger had gone out of it for her, and all that was left was sadness, but there was also a kind of peace, as she started to move on with her life. There was nothing left to reproach him about, or regret. It had happened. It was done. It was over. And for the rest of their lives they would share children, decisions about them, and memories of another time.

She served lunch for all of them on one of the picnic tables. Seth carried chairs over, and both children took turns sitting on his lap. She had brought delicious sandwiches from a local deli, fruit, and the cheesecake she knew Seth liked. She had even thought to bring him his favorite chocolates and a cigar.

“Thank you, Sarah. The lunch was delicious.” He sat back, smoking the cigar, as the children ran off. She could see that he was doing well, and had adjusted to the turn of fate that had landed him there. He seemed to accept it now, particularly after Henry Jacobs had confirmed that there were no grounds for an appeal. The trial had been run correctly, and the proceedings had been clean. Seth didn't seem bitter, and neither did she. “Thanks for bringing the kids.”

“Molly starts school in two weeks. And I have to get back to work.” He didn't know what to say to her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry he had lost their house, that her jewelry was gone, that everything they'd built and shared had disappeared, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, they sat there together, watching their children. She filled the awkward silences with news of her family, and he told her about prison routine. It wasn't impersonal so much as different. There were things they couldn't say anymore, and never would again. He knew she loved him, the lunch she'd brought had told him that, the loving way she'd prepared it in the picnic basket, the way she had brought their children to him. And she knew he still loved her. One day even that would be different, but for now it was the left-over glue of a bond they had shared that would crumble and alter over time, but for now much of it was still there. Until something or someone else replaced it, until the memories got too old or the time too long. He was the father of her children, the man she had married and loved. That would never change.

She and the children stayed until the end of visiting time. A whistle blew to warn them that the end of their time together was coming. It told them to pack up their things, and throw their leftovers away. She put the remains of their lunch and the red-checked napkins in the picnic basket. She had brought things from home to make it as festive as she could.

She rounded up the children and told them they were going. Oliver made a sad face when she told him to say goodbye to Daddy, and Molly threw her arms around his waist.

“I don't want to leave Daddy,” she said, looking unhappy. “I want to stay!” This was what he had condemned them to, but he knew that even that would alter over the years. Eventually, they'd be used to seeing him here and nowhere else.

“We'll come and visit him again soon,” Sarah said, waiting for Molly to let go of her father, and eventually she did. Seth walked them as close to the checkpoint as he was allowed to go, as other inmates did the same.

“Thanks again, Sarah,” he said in the familiar voice of seven years of history between them. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will. You too.” She started to say something to him then, and hesitated, as the children moved away. “I love you, Seth. I hope you know that. I'm not angry at you anymore. I'm just sad for you, and for us. But I'm okay.” She wanted him to know that, that he didn't need to worry about her or feel guilty. He could regret whatever he wanted to, but over the summer she had realized that she was going to be all right. This was the hand fate had dealt her, and it was the one she was going to play, without looking back, or hating him, or even wishing things were different. She knew now that they could never be. Even if she hadn't understood what was happening, it had been happening anyway. It had only been a matter of time before it came out in the light of day. She fully understood that now. He had never been the man she thought he was.

“Thanks, Sarah … for not hating me for what I did.” He didn't try to explain it to her. He had already tried, and knew she would never understand. Everything that had gone through his mind at the time was completely foreign to who she was.

“It's okay, Seth. It happened. We're lucky to have the kids.” She was still sorry not to have another baby, but maybe she would one day. Her destiny was in hands other than hers. It was what Maggie said when she called to tell her she had gotten married. And as Sarah thought of her, she turned to Seth and smiled. She hadn't realized it before, but without even trying to, she had forgiven him. A millionpound weight had lifted from her heart and shoulders. Without even willing it away, it was gone.

He watched as they went through the exit gate, and walked into the parking lot again. The children waved, and Sarah turned back once to smile and gave him a long look. He waved as they drove away, and walked slowly back to his cell, thinking of them. They were the family he had sacrificed, and ultimately thrown away.

As Sarah drove around a bend in the road, and the prison vanished behind her, she looked at her children, smiled to herself, and realized it had happened. She didn't know how or when, but she had gotten there somehow. It was what Maggie had referred to so often and Sarah could never find. She had found it, it had found her, and she felt so light she could fly. She had forgiven Seth, and achieved the state of grace that at first she couldn't even imagine. It was a moment of pure perfection frozen in time forever … amazing grace!



AMAZING GRACE

A Delacorte Press Book

November 2007

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2007 by Danielle Steel

Delacorte Press is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc.,

and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.