Bittersweet

by Danielle Steel

  “Hello?” She was smiling when she answered, sure now that it was he, but the voice on the other end was not Doug's. It was her agent. Raoul Lopez. He was very well known in photojournalism and photography, and at the top of his field. The agency, though not Raoul, had previously represented her father.

  “How's the Mother of the Year? Still taking pictures of kids on Santa's lap to give to their mommies?” She had volunteered at a children's shelter the previous year to do just that, and Raoul had not been overly amused by it. For years now, he had been telling her she was wasting her talents. And once every couple of years, she did something for him that gave him hope she might one day come back to the real world. She had done a fabulous story three years before, on abused children in Harlem. She had done it in the daytime while her own kids were in school, and managed not to miss a single car pool. Doug hadn't been pleased but he had let her do it, after India had spent weeks discussing it with him. And, as in the past, she had won an award for it.

  “I'm fine. How are you, Raoul?”

  “Overworked, as usual. And a little tired of getting the ‘artists’ I represent to be reasonable. Why is it so impossible for creative people to make intelligent decisions?” It sounded like he had already had a bad morning, and listening to him, India was hoping he wasn't going to ask her to do something totally insane. Sometimes, despite the limitations she had set on him for years, he still did that. He was also upset because he had lost one of his star clients, a hell of a nice guy and good friend, in a brief holy war in Iran in early April. “So what are you up to?” he asked, trying to sound a little more cordial. He was a nervous, irascible man, but India was fond of him. He was brilliant at pairing up the right photographer with the right assignment, when they let him.

  “I'm loading the dishwasher, actually,” she said with a smile. “Does that fit your image of me?” She laughed and he groaned.

  “Only too well, I'm afraid. When are those kids of yours ever going to grow up, India? The world can't wait forever.”

  “It'll have to.” Even after they were grown, she wasn't sure Doug would want her to take assignments, and she knew it. But this was what she wanted for now. And she had told Raoul that often enough for him to almost believe her. But he never gave up entirely. He was still hoping that one day she might come to her senses, and run screaming out of Westport. He certainly hoped so. “Are you calling to send me on a mission on muleback somewhere in northern China?” It was the kind of thing he called her with from time to time, although occasionally he called with something reason-able, like the work she had done in Harlem. And she had loved that, which was why she kept her name on his roster.

  “Not exactly, but you're getting close,” he said tentatively, wondering how to phrase his question. He knew how impossible she was, and just how devoted to her children and husband. Raoul had neither a spouse nor a family, and could never quite understand why she was so determined to flush her career down the toilet for them. She had a talent like few he had known, and in her case he thought it was a sacrilege to have given up what she had been doing.

  And then he decided to take the plunge. All she could do was say no, although he desperately hoped she wouldn't. “It's Korea, actually. It's a story for the Sunday Times Magazine, and they're willing to put it out to someone freelance, instead of a staffer. There's an adoption racket in Seoul that's going sour. The word is they're killing the kids no one will adopt. It's relatively safe, for you at least, unless you ruffle too many feathers. But it's a fantastic story, India. Babies are being murdered over there, and once it runs in the magazine, you can syndicate the story. Someone really has to do it, and they need your pictures to validate the story and I'd rather it be you than anyone else. I know how you love kids, and I just thought …it's perfect for you.” She felt an undeniable rush of adrenaline as she listened. It tugged at her heart in a way that nothing had since the story in Harlem. But Korea? What would she tell Doug and the kids? Who would drive her car pools and make dinner for them? All they had was a cleaning lady twice a week, she had done it all herself for years, and there was no way that they could manage without India to do it all for them.

  “How long are we talking about?” A week maybe …maybe Gail would agree to cover for her.

  There was a pause, and she could hear him suck in his breath. It was a habit he had whenever he knew she wouldn't like his answer. “Three weeks …maybe four,” he said finally, as she sat down on a stool and closed her eyes. There was no way on earth that she could do it, and she hated to miss the story. But she had her own children to think of.

  “You know I can't do that, Raoul. Why did you call me? Just to make me feel bad?”

  “Maybe. Maybe one of these days you'll get the fact that the world needs what you do, not just to show them pretty pictures, India, but to make a difference. Maybe you could be the one who stops those babies from getting murdered.”

  “That's not fair,” she said heatedly. “You have no right to make me feel guilty about this. There's no way I can take a four-week assignment, and you know it. I have four kids, no help, and a husband.”

  “Then hire an au pair, for chrissake, or get divorced. You can't just sit there on your dead ass forever. You've already wasted fourteen years. It's a wonder anyone's still willing to give you work. You're a fool to waste your talent.” For once, he sounded angry with her, and she didn't like what he was saying.

  “I haven't ‘wasted’ fourteen years, Raoul. I have happy, healthy kids who are that way because I'm around to take them to school every day, and pick them up, and go to their Little League games, and cook them dinner. And if I'd gotten myself killed sometime in those fourteen years, you wouldn't be here to step into my shoes for me.”

  “No, that's a point,” he said, sounding calmer. “But they're old enough now. You could go back to work again, at least on something like this. They're not babies, for chrissake. I'm sure your husband would understand that.” Not after what he'd said the night before. She couldn't even imagine telling him she was going to Korea for a month. It was inconceivable in the context of their marriage.

  “I can't do it, Raoul, and you know it. All you're doing now is making me unhappy.” She sounded wistful as she said it.

  “Good. Then maybe you'll get going again one of these days. I'd be performing a service for the world if that was all I accomplished by calling.”

  “For the world maybe, although you flatter me. I was never that great. But you wouldn't be performing a service for my children.”

  “Lots of mothers work. They'd survive it.”

  “And if I didn't?” She had the example of her own father dying when she was fifteen. And no one could tell her that couldn't happen, particularly with the kind of stories she was known for doing. The one in Korea would have been tame in comparison to the work she'd done before she was married.

  “They'd survive it too,” he said sadly. “I won't send you on the really hot ones. This one in Korea is a little dicey, but it's not like sending you to Bosnia or something.”

  “I still can't do it, Raoul. I'm sorry.”

  “I know. I was crazy to call you, but I had to try. I'll find someone else. Don't worry about it.” He sounded discouraged.

  “Don't forget me completely,” she said sadly, feeling something she hadn't in years, over the assignment she had just turned down. She really wished she could do the story in Korea, and felt deprived that she had to turn it down. Not resentful, just bitterly disappointed. This was the kind of sacrifice she had been talking to Doug about the night before, and that he had discounted so completely. As though what she had done with her camera for all those years, and giving it up for him and the kids, meant nothing.

  “I will forget about you one of these days if you don't do something important again soon. You can't take pictures of Santa Claus forever.”

  “I might have to. Get me something closer to home, like the piece in Harlem.”

  “Stuff like that doesn't come around v
ery often, and you know it. They let the staffers do it. They just wanted something more important out of that piece, and you got lucky.” And then, with a sigh, “I'll see what I can come up with. Just tell your kids to grow up a little faster.”

  And what about Doug? How fast was he going to “grow up,” if ever? From the sound of it the night before, he didn't really understand that her career had been important to her. “Thanks for thinking of me anyway. I hope you get someone terrific to do it.” She was worried now about the Korean babies.

  “I just got turned down by someone terrific. I'll call you again one of these days. And you owe me on the next one.”

  “Then make sure it doesn't require my presence at the top of a tree in Bali.”

  “I'll see what I can do, India. Take care of yourself.”

  “Thanks. You too,” and then as an afterthought, “I just remembered, I'll be in Cape Cod all summer. July and August. I think you have that number.”

  “I do. If you get any great sailboat pictures, call me. We'll sell them to Hallmark.” She had actually done that a couple of times, when the kids were really small. She'd been happy with it, and Raoul had been furious. As far as he was concerned, she was a serious photojournalist and shouldn't be taking pictures of anything or anyone unless they were bleeding, dead, or dying.

  “Don't knock it. They covered my kindergarten costs for two years, that's something.”

  “You're hopeless.”

  They hung up after that, and she was upset about the call all day. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though she was missing something. And she was still looking glum when she ran into Gail that afternoon at the market. Gail was looking happier than usual, wearing a skirt and high heels, and as India approached her, she noticed that Gail was wearing perfume.

  “Where have you been? Shopping in the city?”

  Gail shook her head with a wicked grin, and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lunch with Dan Lewison in Greenwich. He's not quite as devastated as I expected. We had a very nice time, and a couple of glasses of wine. He's a sweet guy, and after you look at him for a while, he's actually pretty attractive.”

  “You must have had more than a couple of glasses of wine,” India said, looking at her unhappily. Even hearing about it depressed her. What point was there in having lunch with him? India just couldn't see it.

  “What are you looking so down about?” It was rare for India to be in such poor spirits. She was usually pretty “up” about everything. She was always the one telling Gail to cheer up, and assuring her that their life was just “peachy.” Now she looked anything but, as she chatted with Gail, standing next to the produce.

  “I had a fight with Doug last night, and my agent just called me with an assignment in Korea. Apparently there's some adoption racket where they're murdering the babies that don't get adopted.”

  “Christ, how awful. Be grateful you didn't have to cover that one,” Gail said, looking revolted. “How morbid.”

  “I'd have loved doing it. It sounds like a terrific piece, but it would have taken three to four weeks to hang around and get the story. I told him I couldn't do it.”

  “Nothing new there. So why are you looking like someone died?” She had gotten to India the day before, in a way she never had in earlier discussions, and Doug's comments, and the call from Raoul, hadn't helped any.

  “Doug made a lot of dumb comments last night about my career being sort of a plaything, a toy, and it was no big deal that I gave it up. There's something about earning your living with a camera that makes everyone think they could do it if they wanted to be bothered.” Gail smiled at what she said, and didn't deny it.

  “What got into Doug?” Gail knew they didn't fight very often, and India looked particularly upset as she told her.

  “I don't know. He's not usually that insensitive. Maybe he had a bad day at the office.”

  “Maybe he really doesn't get what you gave up for him and the kids.” That was what India was afraid of, and she was surprised herself to find that it really mattered to her. “Maybe you should make your point by doing the story in Korea.” Gail tried to provoke her into doing it, but India knew better. She knew that would be driving the point home a little too firmly.

  “Why should the kids have to suffer because he hurt my feelings? Besides, there's no way I could leave for a month. And we're leaving for the Cape in three weeks … I can't do it.”

  “Well, maybe you should do the next one.”

  “If there is one. I'm sure Raoul is getting tired of calling me and having me tell him I can't do it.” He hardly ever called anymore anyway. There just weren't many stories that suited her particular limitations.

  “Doug will probably come home with an armload of flowers for you tonight, and you'll forget all about it,” Gail said, trying to look reassuring. She felt sorry for her. India was bright and beautiful and talented, and like many of them, she was wasting her life cleaning out the barbecue and driving car pools. It was a waste of an extraordinary talent.

  “We're having dinner at Ma Petite Amie. I was looking forward to it, until he got me all riled up.”

  “Drink enough wine, and you'll forget all about it. Which reminds me, I'm having lunch with Dan again on Tuesday.”

  “I think that's a dumb thing to do,” India said bluntly, putting a box of tomatoes into her basket. “What's that going to do for you?”

  “Amuse me. Why not? We're not hurting anyone. Rosalie is in love with Harold, and Jeff will never know, and he'll have my undivided attention for six weeks in Europe.” To Gail it seemed like perfect justification, but to India it didn't.

  “It seems so pointless. And what if you fall in love with him?” That was a whole other issue. If what Gail wanted was to be madly in love again, one of these days it might happen. And then what would she do? Dump Jeff? Get divorced? To India, the risks just didn't seem worth it. But on that score anyway, she and Gail were very different.

  “I'm not going to fall in love with him. We're just having some fun. Don't be such a spoilsport.”

  “What if Jeff were doing the same thing, wouldn't you mind?”

  “I'd be bowled over,” Gail said with a look of amusement. “The only thing Jeff ever does at lunch is go to his podiatrist, or get his hair cut.”

  But what if he wasn't? What if they were both cheating? To India, particularly in her current mood, it seemed pathetic.

  “You need to get a haircut, or a manicure, or a massage or something. Do something to cheer yourself up. I'm not sure giving up a story about dead babies in Korea is something to get so depressed about. Get depressed about something that would be a shame to miss, something fun …like an affair….” She was teasing her then, and India shook her head and grinned ruefully at her.

  “How can I love you, when you are the most immoral person I know?” India said, looking at her with affectionate disapproval. “If you were a stranger, and someone told me about you, I'd think you were disgust-Lag.”

  “No, you wouldn't. I'm just honest about what I do, and what I think. Most people aren't, and you know that.” There was certainly some truth to that, but Gail went a little overboard both with her point of view and her honesty about it.

  “I love you anyway, but one of these days you're going to get yourself in one hell of a mess, and Jeff is going to find out about it.”

  “I'm not even sure he'd care. Unless I forgot to pick up his dry cleaning.”

  “Don't be so sure about that,” India assured her.

  “Dan says Rosalie has been sleeping with Harold for two years, and he had no idea until she told him. Most guys are like that.” It made India wonder suddenly if Doug would suspect if she were having lunch with another man. She liked to think so. It was one of the many things she believed about him. “Anyway, I've got to run. I have to take the kids to the doctor for checkups before we leave for Europe. They're going to camp as soon as we get home, and I haven't even filled out their health forms.”


  “Maybe if you stayed home for a change, you could do it at lunchtime,” India teased her, as Gail waved and hurried off to the checkout counter, and India finished buying what she needed for the weekend. It was certainly not an exciting life, but maybe Gail was right. The assignment in Korea would have been a very depressing story. She would have wanted to come home with an armful of Korean babies to save them from getting murdered when no one else would adopt them.

  She was still in a somber mood later that afternoon when she picked up the kids and drove home. Jason and Aimee had friends with them, and they all made so much noise that no one noticed that she wasn't talking.

  She fixed a snack for all of them, and left it on the kitchen table when she went to take a bath. She had called a sitter that afternoon, and she was going to put dinner together and rent videos for them. For once, India had some free time on her hands, and she luxuriated in the bath, thinking about her husband. She was still upset about what he'd said the night before, but she was just as sure he must have had a bad day at the office.

  India was wearing a short black dress and high heels, and her long blond hair was looped into an elegant bun when Doug came home from work. He fixed himself a drink, which he did sometimes on Friday nights, and when he came upstairs, he looked happy to see her.

  “Wow, India! You look terrific!” he said, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary. “You look like you spent all day getting ready.”

  “Not quite. Just the last hour of it. How was your day?”

  “Not bad. The new client meeting went pretty well. I'm almost sure we got the account. It's going to be a very busy summer.” It was the third new account he was in charge of, and he had commented to his secretary that afternoon that he'd be lucky if he got to the Cape by August, but he didn't say anything about it to India as she walked toward him.