“The car is gone,” Gail explained as she made pancakes for them. She had been up all night, watching India, and she looked it. “Forever,” she added, and Jason whistled.

“Wow! It must have been a bad one.”

“It was, but she was very lucky.”

“Can I see her?” Aimee wanted to know, looking worried.

“I think we should let her sleep. You can see her later,” Gail said firmly.

They ate their breakfast quietly, sensing that the accident had been more serious than Gail had said, and when they left for school, Gail went back up to see her. India was still sleeping. She left her a note, and went home to change, and promised to come back later.

India woke up at noon, and begging herself not to, she dialed Paul anyway. She just wanted to hear his voice. She wasn't even sure he'd take it, and she wasn't going to tell him about the accident. She was surprised when he got on the line very quickly.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sounding worried. He had been up all night, but it was better than his nightmares. He had been worried sick about her.

“Sure, I'm fine.” She sounded weak and sleepy, but she tried to make herself sound normal, for his sake.

“Did you get home okay last night?”

“Yeah. It was fine,” she lied, as tears slid down her cheeks. He could hear that she was lying, and all he could remember was the look of devastation in her eyes when she had left him.

“I was afraid you were too upset to drive. I thought about it as soon as you left. But I didn't want to call and wake the children.”

“They were fine. I'm fine. How are you?” She sounded a little wonky, but he assumed she had slept as little as he had.

“Not so great,” he said, sounding grim. And then he told her, “I'm leaving for the boat tonight. They're still in Gibraltar. And then I'm going to make the crossing to Antigua. Or go somewhere else. I haven't figured it out yet.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling slightly sicker. She had been hoping he had changed his mind again. Anything was possible, she hoped. But apparently, it wasn't.

“And, India,” he delivered the coup de grace with one swift blow. It was better that way. Straight to the heart. But cleanly. “Don't call me.”

“Why not?”

“We'll just drive each other crazy. We have to let this go now. I was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. And I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” she said sadly. Her headache was nothing compared to the rest of what she was feeling.

“I'm older than you are. I should have known better. You'll get over it. We both will.” But he would never get over Serena. He knew that now. And he had killed India to please Serena. Wherever Serena was, he hoped that she was happy. And he hoped that the misery he felt now repaid some of the debt he owed her for not dying with her. “Take care of yourself,” he said, as India nodded, crying too hard to speak for a minute, while he waited.

“I love you. I just want you to know that. If you get sane again, call me.”

“I am sane. Finally. And I won't call you. I want you to know that.” He didn't want to hold any hope out to her. That would have been even crueler. He knew now that Serena owned his soul forever. The rest wasn't worth having. “Good-bye,” he said softly then, and hung up without waiting for her to answer. She heard the dial tone in her ear, and set the phone down gently. And then she closed her eyes and sobbed, wishing she had died in the car crash. It would have been so much simpler.

Gail came back to check on her that afternoon, when she picked the kids up from school for her, and she thought India looked worse when she sat down next to her bed. She hadn't eaten all day, but she insisted she didn't want to.

“You have to, baby. You're going to get even sicker.” Gail made her a cup of tea and begged her to drink it, and as India finally put it to her lips, all she could do was think of Paul and she choked on it. She couldn't even swallow. And then, just looking at her, Gail knew. She didn't know who, but she knew what had happened. “It's about a guy, isn't it?” she asked gently, and India said nothing. “Don't let him do this to you, India. You don't deserve it. Not again.” Doug had been bad enough, she didn't need a worse one. “You'll be okay. I promise, whoever he is, he's not worth it.”

“Yes, he is.” India started to cry all over again as she set the tea down. She hadn't even touched it. “He is worth it …that's the trouble.” Gail didn't dare ask her who the guy was, but she had an odd feeling. India had never said anything about him. Not since the previous summer. And there was no reason to suspect. But as their eyes met, Gail had a sixth sense. The man in question had to be Paul Ward. How they had met and what they'd done remained a mystery. Gail thought India had said he was in Europe. But he had come back. Gail was certain. And he had done this to her. She had never seen India look like that before. She had only seen one other woman look this devastated, her own sister when she was twenty. She had committed suicide over the boy next door, and Gail had found her. It had been the tragedy of her life, and she would never forget it. And as she looked at India now she was terrified, wondering if she had wanted to die the night before. If she had let the accident happen. But even India herself didn't know. She just lay in her bed again, and closed her eyes, and all she could think of was Paul, as Gail watched her and cried for her.





Chapter 24

FOR THE rest of the month, India recovered slowly. The stitches on her head had left a scar that followed the edge of her hairline alongside her left temple for several inches. Within three weeks of the accident, it was still bright red, but they promised that within six months no one would see it, and it could have been worse. Much worse. She could have been brain damaged or dead, and she had been very lucky. There had been a plastic surgeon on duty in the trauma unit that night, and he had stitched her head up for her. He was pleased with his handiwork when he checked her three weeks later. And the broken arm only took four weeks, and was her left arm, so she wasn't totally handicapped by it. The injury that gave her the most trouble was the whiplash, and she was still wearing a collar for it when Raoul called her in April. He had a story for her in the city. A magazine was doing a story of the victim of a rape. It promised to be a sensational trial, and they needed photographs of it. She hesitated for two days, and then decided to take the story. She needed the distraction, and when India met her, she liked the woman. She was twenty-five years old and had been a famous fashion model, but the rapist had slashed her face and ended her career on a grassy knoll on a night in Central Park, where he had taken her at gunpoint when she got out of a cab on Fifth Avenue.

The story took two days, and the only thing she didn't like about it was that they met at the Carlyle, and it reminded her of Paul, but other than that it went very well. And the pictures made a big splash when they were published a week later. She hadn't heard from Paul in a month by then, and she hadn't called him. She had no idea where he was, and she tried not to think about it. She still felt like she was in a daze a month after he had left her. It had been like getting everything she'd ever dreamed of, and then losing it. The only difference was that the model was visibly destroyed. The scars that India carried with her now were just as deep, but could not be seen. Only she could feel them.

She still found it hard to believe she would never hear from him again, but by May, she had no choice but to accept it. He had left her life, with his agonies and his own scars, and his memories of Serena. And he had left something inside her broken, which she knew would never repair. She had to live with it now, along with her lost marriage. And for some reason, it hurt her more than losing Doug. It had hurt her more than anything ever had before, except losing her father. It was the death of hope at a time when she was already vulnerable and disappointed. But she knew this would heal in time. It was just a question of how long it would take her. Maybe her entire lifetime. But she had no choice now, she knew. The dream was gone. He had taken it with him, along with her heart and the love she had given him. And all she had left was the knowledge that he had loved her. No matter what he had said to her in the end, she still knew it was true. He had loved her, for a time, no matter how much he now denied it.

She had lunch with Gail in early May on her birthday. India took Gail out for her birthday every year. It was a tradition between them. India had finally bought a new car the day before, a brand-new station wagon, and Gail was admiring it with her, when she looked at India strangely. There was a question she had wanted to ask her for two months, but she hadn't dared. And now India seemed so much better, that she felt a little braver. It was none of her business, she knew. But her curiosity had plagued her. And when they sat down to lunch, Gail asked her finally. India didn't answer for a long time, and then she sighed and looked away. And then finally, with a look of agony, she faced her. There was no point keeping the secret now. It no longer mattered.

“Yes, it was Paul. We had been talking to each other for a long time, almost since the summer. Actually, since just after Serena died. After a while, he called me every day. He was my best friend, my brother …my everything for a while. He was my light at the end of the tunnel,” she smiled, “although he swore he never would be. And then he came back to New York and told me he was in love with me. I think I was in love with him right from the first. And he felt the same. Even when Serena was alive, although he'd never admit that, and I don't think he really knew it. There was something very powerful between us, and it frightened him. Terribly. More than he could handle. It was over in a week. He said it was because of my kids, and his age, and a lot of stupid things that didn't matter. It was really because of him. He felt too guilty toward Serena, he said he was still in love with her. Anyway, he ended it the night I had the accident.” She still cried when she talked about it, as she looked at Gail, with tears streaming down her cheeks like rivers.