But then she had an even stranger thought, as she turned off the light and walked slowly back to her bedroom. She wondered suddenly what it would be like to be doing this alone, if she and Doug were no longer married. How different would it be? She did it all now. She cared for the children, she was here alone. She had all the responsibility, she did all the chores, did all the nurturing and worrying and cooking and cleaning. The only thing she didn't do was support them. It was scary thinking of it, but what if Doug left her? If he died? Would her life be so different? Would she feel more alone than she did now, knowing that she was just a tool to him, a convenience? What would happen to her if she lost him? Years before, she had worried about it, when the kids were small and she felt she couldn't live for an hour without him. But that had been when she thought he was in love with her. But now that she realized he wasn't in love, and felt no need to be, what would it really mean now to be without him? She felt guilty for even thinking of it, as though she had waved a magic wand and “disappeared” him. Just thinking about it was a form of treason. But no one knew what she was thinking. She would never have dared put the thoughts into words, not to anyone, not even Gail. And certainly not to Doug.

She lay on her bed for a while, and picked up a book finally, but she found she couldn't read it. All she could hear were her own questions echoing through her head, and there were a thousand of them. And louder than all of them was the one she feared most. What did their marriage mean to her now? Now that she knew what Doug was thinking. It changed everything, like the subtle turn of a dial that changed the music from sweet melody to endless static that hurt one's eardrums. And she could no longer pretend to herself that what she heard was music. It wasn't. Hadn't been for weeks. Maybe longer than that. Maybe it never had been. That was the worst thought. Or had it been something very sweet, and had they lost it? She considered that possibility the most likely. Maybe it happened to everyone in the end. Eventually, you lost the magic …and wound up bitter or angry, or like Gail, trying to empty an ocean of loneliness with a teacup. It seemed hopeless to her.

She gave up on the book eventually, and went out to the deck to check on the children playing tag, and found they had settled down in the living room finally, and were talking quietly with the television on in the background. And all she could do was stand there, staring up at the stars and wondering what would happen to her life now. Probably nothing. She would drive car pools for the next nine years, until Sam was old enough to drive, or maybe three years before that when Jason could drive him and Aimee, and she would be off the hook then. And then what? More laundry, more meals until they left for college, and then waiting for them to come home for vacations. And what would happen to her and Doug then? What would they say to each other? Suddenly, it all sounded so lonely, and so empty. That was all she felt now. Empty. Broken. Cheated. And yet she had to go on, like a piece of machinery, cranking away, producing whatever it was meant to, until it broke down completely. It didn't seem too hopeful, or too appealing. And as she thought of it, she looked out over the ocean, and saw it. The Sea Star, in all her glory, with all the lights lit in the main saloon and the cabins, with red lights twinkling on the mast, as they went for a night sail. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, and it looked like the perfect escape. A kind of magic carpet, to wherever you wanted it to take you. She could see why Paul sailed all over the world. What better way to explore new places? It was like taking your house with you, your own safe little world that went everywhere with you. At the moment, India couldn't imagine anything better, and for just an instant, she would have loved to hide there, and she thought Paul Ward was lucky to have it. The boat looked so lovely as it sailed past her. She was sorry that Sam was asleep and couldn't see it, but at least he'd be back on board in the morning, and she knew how much he was looking forward to it.

She got all the kids into bed by eleven, and turned out her own lights shortly after. And in the morning, she got Sam up at seven-thirty. He was on his feet almost before she touched him, anxious to get started. She had already showered and dressed. She was wearing a sky blue T-shirt and white jeans, and pale blue espadrilles Gail had bought for her in France the previous summer, and her hair was braided and clean and tidy, as she walked into the kitchen to make breakfast.

She had promised to leave blueberry muffins and fruit salad for the others, and there were four boxes of cereal for them. They had all told her their plans the night before, including dinner with friends, and she knew they'd be fine without her. And if they had a problem, they could go to any of their neighbors. And Paul had given her the satellite number on the boat, which she left for them, so they could call her in an emergency. Everything was taken care of, and at eight-twenty she and Sam were on their bikes, heading for the yacht club again.

Paul was on deck when they got there, and the guests were just leaving. They had rented a van and were going to visit friends in Gloucester. They were staying overnight, and they waved at India and Sam as they left, and Sam ran onto the boat with a broad grin and Paul put an arm around him.

“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.