“What about Antigua?” she asked through her tears, as though it still mattered. But it was something to hang on to. And then he took that from her too. He wanted it all back now. His heart, his life, their future.
“Forget it,” he said coldly. “Go somewhere else. With a nice guy. I'm not that person. The best of me died with Serena.”
“No, it didn't. I love the best and the worst of you,” she said, and meant it, but he didn't want to hear that either. He wanted nothing more from her. It was over. And then she looked up at him with eyes that tore his heart out.
“What'll I tell the children?”
“Tell them what a bastard I am. They'll believe you.”
“No, they won't. And I don't either. You're just scared. You're scared of being happy.” It was truer than she knew, and truer than he wanted her to see now.
“Go home, India,” he said, and opened the door for her. “Go back to your kids. They need you.”
“So do you,” she said, believing it, and knowing him better than he did. “More than they do.” She stood in the doorway, looking at him for a long time then, sobbing pitifully, and her last words to him were “I love you.”
And as she walked away, he closed the door quietly behind her, and walked into his bedroom. He lay on the bed he had lain on with her, and sobbed as he thought of her. He wanted he back, he wanted her to be part of him, but he knew he couldn't. It was too late for him.
He was gone. Serena had taken him with her. And he owed her this now. He knew it. For not dying with her. For letting her down. He had betrayed her, and he couldn't do it again. He had no right to what India wanted to give him.
And as he lay on his bed and cried, India drove back to Westport, blinded by tears, hysterical. She couldn't believe what had happened. She couldn't believe what he had done to her. It was worse than anything Doug had done. But the difference was she loved him, and she knew he loved her. As she drove home, she was so distraught, so racked with pain, that she never saw the car next to her move out of its lane and cut in front of her. She didn't even have time to think before it hit her. She bounced off the divider, and back again into another lane, as the car spun wildly around her and she hit her head on the steering wheel, and the car stopped finally. There was a salty taste in her mouth and there was blood everywhere, as someone opened the door, and she looked at them, and fainted.
Chapter 23
IT WAS after midnight when India called Gail. She had fourteen stitches in her head, a broken arm, a concussion, and whiplash. And her car was totaled. But she was alive, and it could have been worse. She had hit two other cars, but fortunately no one else was injured. She was at the hospital in Westport. India cried when she explained her injuries to Gail. She had thought of calling Paul first, but even in her confused state, she decided not to. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, or guilty. It was her own fault. There was no point blaming him now.
She was sobbing incoherently when she called Gail and asked if she could come and get her. Gail sounded panicked, and arrived half an hour later, in Nikes, with a coat over her nightgown. She had left Jeff with the children.
“My God, India, what happened?”
“Nothing. I'm okay.” But she was still sobbing, and badly shaken.
“You look like shit,” Gail said bluntly, and she saw then that India was going to have a black eye to go with the rest. It was the first accident she'd ever had, and it was a doozy. “Were you drinking?” She whispered so no one could hear her. The police had already come and gone, but there were nurses all around them in the trauma unit.
“No. I wasn't,” India answered, trying to stand up, but she threw up two minutes later. The hospital had said she could go home, but Gail thought she should stay there. “I can't. I have to go home to the kids. They'll worry about me.”
“They're going to worry more if they see you,” Gail said honestly. But India insisted. She just wanted to go home, and die quietly, in her own bed, with her head under the covers.
They left the hospital ten minutes later, with India wearing a blanket over her blood-soaked clothes, and holding a metal bowl in case she threw up, which she did four times on the way home, as she continued to cry softly.
“Did something happen? Did you have a fight with Doug or something?” Gail could see in her eyes that something terrible had happened.
“No, I'm fine,” India kept repeating. “I'm fine. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be sorry, for God's sake.” Gail was worried sick about her. She half carried her up the stairs, put her to bed, and stayed nearby so she could hear her. She tried to give her a cup of tea, but India didn't want it. She just lay there crying until she finally fell asleep at six o'clock in the morning. And when they got up, Gail explained to the children that their mother had had a little accident, but she was fine. She had bumped her head, and had a headache.
“Where's the car?” Sam asked, looking puzzled, and surprised to see Gail making them breakfast in her nightgown instead of their mother. The sitter had left before that.
“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.