She saw the whole crew come on deck then, and he stopped waving at her to give them more orders. They seemed to be struggling with things she couldn't see, and he furled their sails and turned on the motors. He was determined to get as close as he could, and she saw them throw out the anchor, as two of the men lowered the tender, and she wondered what he was doing. The waters weren't as rough in the harbor, but she still didn't see how he would get to the shore in the tender without capsizing. She held her breath as she watched him. But all she could remember was what she had told him in Rwanda, about wanting a man who would come through a hurricane for her, and she knew he had remembered it from his P.S. on the postcard about the slicker. She was certain now that that was what he had been saying to her on the phone … it was something about a slicker. But what was the rest? Was he only teasing her? But as she saw the tender approach, and saw him wrestling with it, she knew he was deadly serious about what he was doing. And she was terrified that he would capsize and drown as she watched him.

It seemed like hours as he crossed the short distance to the steps of the yacht club, but it was only minutes. And as he came closer still, she saw him watching her, as she ran down the steps to meet him. He threw the line to her and she caught and held it, as he jumped out of the tender and tied it to one of the rings. And then he took one long stride to the step where she stood, and looked at her intently. There was a look in his eyes she had seen before. It was like a voice calling to her from the distance. It was the voice of her dreams. The voice of hope. It was the bittersweet memory of what they had had and lost so quickly. She wanted to ask him what he was doing there, but she couldn't speak. She could only stand there looking at him, as he pulled her to him.

“It's not a hurricane…. but will this do?” he said, close enough to her ear for her to hear him. “I tried to call you.”

“I know,” she said, and he heard her. “I couldn't hear what you were saying.” She looked into his eyes then, afraid of what she would find there. Afraid she was wrong, and that the dreams had never existed.

“I said I was coming. It's not a hurricane, it's just a storm.” But it was a good one. “If you want a hurricane, India …I'll take you to Newport … if you want me …” he said, his tears mixing with the rain that washed his cheeks. “I'm here. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here.” It didn't seem long as she looked at him. It didn't seem long at all. It had taken them a year to come through the storm. A lifetime to find each other. The dream had come true finally. They had found it. She touched his cheek with a trembling hand, as she saw the Sea Star just behind him. They had both been lost for so long. And by some miracle, through life's storms, they had found each other.

She smiled up at him in a way that told him all he needed to know. And she knew he had come home to her at last, as he pulled her into his slicker with him, and kissed her.





WATCH FOR THE NEW NOVEL

FROM

DANIELLE STEEL

On Sale in Hardcover

June 27, 2006

COMING OUT

Olympia Crawford Rubinstein has a way of managing her thriving family with grace and humor. With twin daughters finishing high school, a son at Dartmouth, and a kindergartener from her second marriage, there seems to be nothing Olympia can't handle …until one sunny day in May, when she opens an invitation for her daughters to attend the most exclusive coming out ball in New York—and chaos erupts all around her….

From a son's crisis to a daughter's heartbreak, from a case of the chickenpox to a political debate raging in her household, Olympia is on the verge of surrender…until a series of startling choices and changes of heart, family and friends turn a night of calamity into an evening of magic. As old wounds are healed, barriers are shattered and new traditions are born, and a debutante ball becomes a catalyst for change, revelation, acceptance, and love.

Please turn the page for a special advance preview.

Olympia Crawford Rubinstein was whizzing around her kitchen on a sunny May morning, in the brownstone she shared with her family on Jane Street in New York, near the old meat-packing district of the West Village. It had long since become a fashionable neighborhood of mostly modern apartment buildings with doormen, and old renovated brownstones. Olympia was fixing lunch for her five-year-old son, Max. The school bus was due to drop him off in a few minutes. He was in kindergarten at Dalton, and Friday was a half day for him. She always took Fridays off to spend them with him. Although Olympia had three older children from her first marriage, Max was Olympia and Harry's only child.