And in the last hours of the hurricane watch, she got her wish. Hurricane Barbara shifted just enough to unleash an incredible storm on them, but the eye of the storm was heading now toward Newport, Rhode Island. But in spite of that, the winds still managed to tear off their screens, destroy their trees, and do enough damage to the roof to cause a leak in the kitchen. She was putting buckets under it and rushing around checking windows two days before the end of her stint in the house, when she heard the phone ring. She never answered it anymore, it was always for the children. But they were all out, and she picked it up finally with a look of irritation. There was no one on the line. She would have thought it was a prank, except for the fact that they had been having trouble with the phone lines all morning. It rang again, and did the same thing, and she was sure that either some of the phone lines were down, or they were about to lose their power. And then, when she picked it up a third time, she heard a crackling on the line, and there was so much static she couldn't hear the voice on the other end clearly. All she could hear were intermittent words that meant nothing. And there was no way she could recognize the caller, or even determine if it was a man or a woman.

“I can't hear you!” she shouted, wondering if they could hear her. She thought it might be Doug again, calling to see how they were doing. He had been very upset when she told him the roof was leaking, and was already complaining about what it would cost to repair it.

The phone rang a fourth time, and she ignored it. Whoever it was would have to call back later. A storm window had just blown off her bedroom, and as she wrestled with it, wishing the kids were home to help her, the phone just went on ringing. She picked it up again, looking exasperated, and this time, along with the static, she could hear some words more clearly, but most of them were missing. Listening to what was being said was like deciphering a puzzle.

“India …coming …storm …coming …” And then something that sounded like thicker, and then the phone went dead in her hand. It was obviously for her, but if they were calling to warn her about the storm, they were a little late. She was beginning to feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz as, one by one, the storm windows blew off the house and shattered. Looking at the storm raging outside, it was hard to believe the hurricane had missed them, and she felt sorry for the people in Newport.

The children were all visiting friends while she battled with the leak in the kitchen, and another one that had sprung up in the living room. She was startled suddenly to see Sam running toward the house from the beach with a friend, as she looked out the window. They were soaked to the skin, and she tried to wave him inside, but he was beckoning to her. He loved being out in the bad weather.

She stuck her head out the door, fighting the wind, and shouted at him, but he was still too far away to hear her. The sky was so dark, it looked more like night than morning. And she was trying to wave him in, but he continued to ignore her.

She grabbed his raincoat, struggled into her own, and ran outside to see him. She had her head down against the wind, but as she looked up to find Sam, she was struck suddenly by how beautiful it was. The skies were thick and dark, and the wind was so strong, she could hardly reach him. There was an irresistible feeling of excitement and exhilaration and the power of nature. She could see why Sam loved it.

“Go inside!” she shouted at him, and tried to get his coat on him, but she saw that he was so wet it was pointless. And as she held the slicker out to him, the wind blew it from her hands, and it flew away like a sheet of paper, as they watched it. But Sam was pointing out to sea, and saying something to her. And as her eyes followed the slicker floating into the sky, she saw something in the thick weather beyond it. And then she realized what Sam was saying.

“It's …the …Sea …Star …” she heard him say finally, as she looked at him and shook her head, knowing it wasn't. The Sea Star was still in Europe. Paul would have called her, or at least sent a postcard, if he was coming this way. But Sam was jumping up and down and pointing, as she squinted in the rain. It was a boat of some kind, but it didn't look like a sailboat.

“No, it isn't!” she shouted back. “Go …inside …you'll catch pneumonia….” And then as she tried to pull him along with her, she saw what Sam did. The boat just beyond them, on pitching seas, did look like the Sea Star, but couldn't have been. But whoever she was, her sails were full, and she almost looked as though she were sailing through the sky, with the speed of lightning and the wind behind her. India couldn't imagine Paul doing anything that crazy, sailing in a hurricane, even if he had been there. He was far too sensible a sailor. But along with Sam, she stood there and watched the boat anyway, fascinated by it. India was sure it was a different yacht, but she looked very much like the Sea Star. And then finally, she got Sam inside, in spite of his protests, and his friend went in with him. But India stayed outside for another minute to watch the sailboat flying and rolling and pitching. There were huge waves pouring off her bow, and the masts were bobbing and dipping like toothpicks. The boat was still at a considerable distance from the shore, but she seemed to be heading right past them.

India wondered if the sailboat had been far out to sea when the high winds struck, and was now desperately heading for shore to find safety, and she couldn't help wondering if they were in trouble and she should call the Coast Guard.

There were rocks farther up the coast, near the point, and in a storm like this one, any vessel at all would be in danger, even a large boat like this one. And as India began to turn away, she saw Sam and his friend continuing to watch the boat from the window. She was just about to go in, and make hot chocolate for them, when the mists shifted and she saw the boat more clearly, and at that exact same second in her head, she remembered the phone call …coming …storm …coming…. Were they telling her the storm was coming, which she already knew, or were they telling her something very different? The voice had said her name, but she couldn't recognize it, it was too disrupted and too broken, and then she knew as she looked at the boat again, and felt a hand squeeze her heart imperceptibly. She didn't know if she was being crazy, or just foolish. But suddenly she knew that Sam was right. It was the Sea Star. No other boat looked quite like her, and she had come much closer to them in the last few minutes.

India turned to look at Sam through the window, but he had disappeared with his friend, probably to his room … or to watch TV …but she turned back again, watching the boat fighting its way through the storm, as she heard the words again …coming …coming …and perhaps not thicker …but slicker. …Only he would be crazy enough, and sailed well enough, to do this. And she knew suddenly with certainty that he had called her. But what was he doing?

Instead of going back inside, she walked through the raging storm toward the water. And as she watched the boat, she saw it heading toward the yacht club. She had no idea why, or how he had gotten there, but she knew that Paul was coming …coming …coming …coming through the storm. And he had called to tell her. She began walking at first, and then running toward the point where they were headed. She knew the children would be all right. But she knew something else now too …she wanted to believe it …but it was much too crazy. He wouldn't do this. Or would he? And what if they were dashed against the rocks …what if …why had he done this? It made no sense now … or did it? It had made sense once, so long ago … it had made sense to both of them, not only to her. And as she began running toward the yacht club, through the wind, she knew that she was crazy to think it, or hope it, or believe it…. He wouldn't do this, yet she knew he had as the boat stayed on a steady course, in spite of the heavy seas that fought her.

She saw him pass the rocks on the point, and as the boat continued to battle the wind and waves, India watched it. Maybe he wasn't even on board, she told herself, so she wouldn't be disappointed. Maybe it was another boat, and not the Sea Star. Or maybe he was as foolish as she was, to believe in something they had once had and lost, and at times she still dreamed of. She wanted it to be him now, wanted him to be there, more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. She wanted it to be Paul who had called her. And when she reached the yacht club finally, she was breathless. She ran out to the point, and stood there watching, waiting for him.

Boats were bobbing violently at anchor, and a few of the owners had come down to secure them. She could see them working feverishly, and as she looked out to sea again, her breath caught as she saw him. He was standing on the deck in his foul-weather gear, and there were two men with him. They were close enough to see now. She assumed the men with him were crew members, and they seemed to be moving with great speed, as he pointed to things and worked with them. But there was no doubt in her mind now it was Paul. She recognized him easily, and as she watched, he suddenly turned toward her. They were very near now, and attempting a complicated maneuver to bring them safely into the harbor.

She stood as still as she could in the wind, her eyes never leaving him, and he waved at her. And as she squinted against the storm, she saw him smiling, and she lifted her arm and waved in answer. He was standing on deck, waving back at her, and in spite of her raincoat, she was soaked to the skin. But she didn't care. She didn't care if he disappointed her again, she just wanted to know now. She had to know why he had come here.