It wasn"t a good excuse but it was the best she could offer. She didn"t know why she hadn"t told Noelle that Mac was in Kenya. Maybe it sounded too final.
The letter to Mac inviting him to Kenya had been real. She had seen it. Why had it come when it came? Why did it seem tied in with Luisa"s barging into the Church House? Why did it all seem to have something to do with Korea? Finally she went to the library to look up books and articles about the Korean War.
She took a stack of papers and magazines to- her carrel to go over in. moderate privacy. What she read did not comfort her. She could not relate it to the young man who had taken her into the Church House, given her his full concern as she poured out her anger and anguish, helped pull her back into perspective. Nor to the young man with whom she drank coffee and talked about books, about stars, about music, about the kids and their problems. Who kissed her with awonderful totalness. Who had her love.
The Korean War was the first war in which Americans had fought where there was a complete collapse of morale among prisoners. One of every three American prisoners of war, she read, actually was guilty of some kind of collaboration with the Communists.
No.
There is no objectivity in history. This was one writer"s point of view. It had nothing to do with Mac.
She shoved the article away, knocking it to the floor. Picked it up. Leafed through another journal. Almost worse than the collaboration was the lack of loyalty among the men, the lack of any esprit de corps. P.O.W.s scrambled over each other for privilege. For food. Informed on each other.
On the next page of the magazine was an article attacking Pope Pius XII for proclaiming the dogma of the bodily a.s.sumption of the Virgin Mary. It made about as much sense as what she was reading about the lack of morale in Korea.
A shadow fell across the page and she turned to see Nan, the pianist.
"Cam? Are you okay?" "Sure. I"m fine."
Madeleine L"Engle,62 Nan glanced at the magazine. "This doesn"t look like physics."
"Nan, do you know much about the Korean Wars" Nan shook her head. "I"m a music major. Why?" "Luisa"s brother Frank was over there."
"And?"
"It seems to be a total hole in my education. If I spend the summer with Luisa I"ll probably see Frank, so I thought I"d better. . ."Her voice trailed off.
Her words sounded lame. "Nan, do you know if Frank was a prisoner of war?"
Nan shook her head. "I"m not sure. I think maybe Luisa did mention it."
"Thanks. And, Nan, if you don"t mind, don"t tell Luisa I asked."
Nan laughed. "Luisa"s my roommate and I love her, despite myself. But remember, I live with her. Give me some credit." "Thanks."
"And take care of yourself, Cam. Stop skipping meals. I"m giving an all-Bach recital in Page Hall Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Will you come?"
"Sure. Of course."
"And then we"ll go out somewhere "Good. That"ll be fun."
Nan left, with an anxious glance over her shoulder at Camilla, who turned to another article. She felt vaguely queasy, and wondered what she had eaten that had upset her. It seemed that the young Americans were not prepared for any kind of deprivation, for unfamiliar food, for ideological indoctrination.
Affluence had made them soft.
No. Not Mac. And certainly a lot of the men who fought in that war did not come from affluent backgrounds. Some of them went to escape grinding poverty. The writer was making stupid generalizations. She shoved the magazine aside, opened another.
Read. Frowned. Pushed her hair out of her face. Read. It afterwards and eat."
A Live Coal in the Sea63 was the first time an enemy had tried to convert prisoners of war to theirway of thinking. The writer of the article was convinced that some of the prisoners believed what they were told, that the Americans were warmongers, and it was the Communists who were working for peace. These men were willing to make broadcasts praising Communism and downgrading democracy.
The articles explained nothing, certainly not Kenya. It was not so much that Mac had gone to Kenya as the way he had gone, abruptly, without warning, as though she didn"t matter, as though the love growing between them didn"t matter.
She returned the magazines and papers and went back to her dorm for supper.
Nan gestured to an empty chair at one of the round tables. Luisa was not there.
"So?" Nan leaned toward Camilla, speaking softly. "Learn anything?"
"It seems I know more about Copernicus et al. than I do about the twentieth century. I was trying to fill in the gaps." Nan cut open her potato and poured catsup over it. "You know what? When my mother was a child there was no Pentagon. Can you believe it? As long as there"s a Pentagon, things like Korea are inevitable. Stick to the stars. They won"t betray you."
Another girl nodded. "My father"s an actor. Listen, I"m going in to New York this weekend to see the Agatha Christie play. My dad"s understudying. I can probably get a break on tickets if anybody"s interested."
"Hey, Cam," another girl asked, "what do you think about Britain exploding a thermonuclear bomb in the Pacific?" Camilla shook her head. "Worse than playing with matches."
"Pandora"s Box," her questioner said. "We"ve opened it, and now we don"t know what to do. What I think-"
Camilla stopped listening. The conversation continued around her, fairly typical for her particular group of friends.
i P.
Madeleine L"Engle64 She had friends who cared about her. Not just Luisa and Nan; half a dozen others. But no one she could speak to about Mac. She could not talk about Mac any more than she could talk about her mother.
It was her week to clear the tables. She did her job, then headed for the library. As she was walking along the path she saw a young man heading toward her, tall, bespectacled, slightly stooped. A cap was pulled over his red hair.
He looked at her, paused. Stopped. Finally smiled. "Hi. You"re Camilla d.i.c.kinson, aren"t you?"
"Yes."
"I"m Andrew Grange. Noelle"s b-brother." Interesting. He identified himself as Noelle"s rather than as Red Grange"s son.
"Hi," she greeted him. "I thought you were off at school. Harvard?"
"Princeton. Har-harvard might have b-better pre-med courses, but Princeton came up with a b-better scholarship. Are you okay?"
She looked at him questioningly. "Sure. Fine." She didn"t know him. He didn"t know her. There was no way he could know of her pain at Mac"s departure.
"L-listen. Thanks for helping my s-sister. She misses you." "I miss her, too."
"When Mac gets back-""Sure. We"ll get together again."
"That"s g-good. "Bye. Be s-seeing you." He ambled past her, his long legs covering the ground with amazing speed. What an odd young man.
Then it occurred to her: maybe he wasn"t just thinking about Noelle; maybe he knew about their father and her mother. No wonder he stuttered.
brother, The year drew to a close. Mac"s letters came regularly, but the only personal part of them was the closing, the Love, Mac. Who was he?
A Live Coal in the Sea-65 "What about my grandfather?" Raffi asked Dr. Rowan. "Who was he? What was he like?"
Dr. Rowan twirled her pencil between her palms, then put it down. Smiled. "He was someone who helps remind me that people can and do change. When I was your age, an arrogant little know-it-all, I didn"t believe that people could change in any major way. But Mac Xanthakos did."
"How?" Raffi demanded. "I know my grandmother loved him a whole lot."
"She loved him totally. And he loved her, enough to make some radical changes in his behavior. It took a long time but he did it."
"Like what?"
"Raffi, we are here to talk about you, not your grandfather."
"It matters to me," Raft said. "He"s part of my genetic pattern, isn"t he?"
For a moment Dr. Rowan was silent. Motionless. She picked up her yellow pencil, put it down. "He fought his demons until they no longer controlled him."
"He had demons?" "Certainly. We all do."
Raffi leaned toward her intently. "Will my dad be able to conquer his?"
Dr. Rowan returned Raffi"s gaze, then leaned back in her chair. "It was primarily your grandfather who taught me that people can always fight their demons. Not everybody wins, but far more than I believed when I was your age."
"What about Grandmother?"
"We all have demons, Raffi. She"s fought hers, and well."
Camilla would not have described herself as a dragon fighter. She simply did what she felt had to be done. She spent iii Madeleine L"Engle66 the summer vacation between graduation and her return to college for her master"s degree in New York with Luisa. She had already applied for and received a teaching a.s.sistantship for the following year, and had found a small apartment in a faculty building which would not be available until the autumn semester started. It was good to be back in New York, staying in the Rowans" old Greenwich Village apartment. Mrs. Rowan was away on a consulting job for July and August, so the two girls had the place to themselves. Camilla took a couple of math courses at NYU. Luisa was dating a medical student, and was worrying about medical school and where she would be accepted with a good scholarship.
Occasionally she would arrange a double date, and they would go to a concert, or a play in the park, or ride the Staten Island ferry to cool off. It was moderately pleasant. But Camilla wanted to talk to Luisa about Frank, so that perhaps Luisa would also talk about Mac and inadvertently give Camilla some kind of clue. Luisa was interested only in talking about her own boyfriend.
Camilla was glad when it was time to go back to college, though Luisa hugged her and said she"d never had such a happy summer, and hadn"t it been wonderful tobe together.
Back in college, Camilla settled into her little apartment, the old routine of cla.s.ses and the new one of teaching, and waited for Mac"s letters. Studying was not an escape; it was something she actively enjoyed. She endured her mother"s visits, accepting Rose"s need to be considered young, Camilla"s sister, Camilla"s friend.
T H R E E.
L U I S A C A M E U P for a weekend. "Medical school is h.e.l.l, and I love it.
I.
have two days off because of -the Jewish holidays, so I thought I"d better come check on you."
"I"m fine. I like teaching." "How"s your social life?" "Okay."
"Idiot, you can look at a man without turning into a nympho," Luisa, being Luisa, continued, "like your mother."
"I just haven"t met anybody interesting."
"Because you don"t want to. Listen, I"m having a generous impulse, take advantage of it. Frank"s going to be in New York next weekend. Can you come?"
"Sure. I can take the train down Friday after my last cla.s.s in the morning.
I"ll have to be back Sunday evening."
"Good. I don"t want to lose touch with you."
"You won"t," Camilla said. She was nervous about seeing Frank again, someone she hadn"t seen since she was fifteen, someone who was the close friend of the man whose letters she so anxiously awaited.
Luisa had moved uptown and lived in the maid"s room of what had once been a grand apartment on upper Riverside Madeleine L"Engle,68 Drive, within easy walking distance of her medical school and hospital. She shared it with six other medical students "of a.s.sorted s.e.xes," she told Camilla.
"I"m glad I was able to get this hole back here behind the kitchen. I"m not a nester, and I"d drive the others bats with my sloppy ways. At least this room is so small I have it to myself. The rich people who used to live here didn"t treat their maids too well."
A desk, cluttered with books and papers, had been designed to go under a high bunk bed, making the best possible use of the limited s.p.a.ce. The desk drawers were partway pulled out, with bits of clothing hanging out. Large tomes were lying open on the desk, on the floor. Anatomical charts decorated what wall s.p.a.ce there was.
"Even if I end up a shrink," Luisa said, "I"ve got to know my patients"
bodies, check out and see if physical problems are aggravating psychological ones.
How are you?" She peered at Camilla. "What"s on your mind?"
"Astronomy. My math background simply isn"t adequate. The nuns in my school in Italy were not fond of math. I"m trying to take enough courses so that I"ll be able to fill in the empty c.h.i.n.ks."
"Your math is fine, or you wouldn"t have got your teaching a.s.sistantship. You know that"s not what I"m asking. How"s your ma? How"s your love life?""Question one. My mother is my mother. Question two. No comment."
"No love life, hunh?"
"Wrong." Yes, she had a love life, even if it had been put on hold. She did not fantasize about Mac, because her feelings about Mac were beyond fantasy.
"In other words, you"re not talking." "Correct."
Luisa was not deflated. "Just don"t fall in love with Frank again. He"s got a nice girlfriend. He met her in Cleveland, but her parents are in England for a few years. I think her father"s an international banker or something like that."
A Live Coal in the Sea 69."So where"s the girlfriend?"
"In Turkey, working at the same press as Frank. Am I jealous of my brother?
Not nice of me, is it? Regressive. Juvenile. I should have grown up, instead of unloading all my insecurities over my parents" divorce on you." She pushed her fingers through her short red hair. "Thank G.o.d for drip-dry hair. I don"t have time to put my hair around rollers like some of my female cla.s.smates. How they sleep with their heads done up that way I don"t know. I"m glad you"re here, Cam.
I"m feeling very low. My guy ditched me a couple of nights ago, and I thought we had a real thing going. Why did he ditch me? I come on too strong. And I didn"t like the way he looked at other women. Is jealousy genetic? It"s ugly, I know that. Am I stuck with it, or can I train myself out of it?"
She paused for breath.
Camilla asked, "When"s Frank coming?"
"Any minute now. I"ll take you into the living room. We"ve got a pull-out bed we use for guests."
The communal living room was comfortably but shabbily furnished with secondhand furniture acquired from generations of medical students. The windows faced east, onto a court yard, so had no view of the river, and the room was rather dark.
A.
girl, her hair up in those rollers Luisa scorned, was just putting away a vacuum cleaner, and hurried off as she heard the doorbell.