‘Oh!’ Camilla exclaimed. ‘I love you and Art so much. I look forward to seeing lots of you, to getting to know you better.’
‘Thank you, my dear.’
‘My parents—my parents are coming next week and you’ll meet them. My father’s tall and strong and doesn’t talk much. My mother’s beautiful and talks all the time. When they sent me to boarding school I left them. Not just physically.’
‘That is understandable,’ Olivia murmured.
‘I know this doesn’t need to happen. Some of my friends have stayed close to their parents, I didn’t. I feel closer to you than I do to my mother.’
‘Oh, my dear—I will love your mother, because she gave you to us.’
The love between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law is not as unusual as it may seem. Camilla had deeply loved her mother-in-law. She loved her daughter-in-law. She and Thessaly had a warm, rich friendship.
She looked at Raffi, seeing a glimpse of Thessaly in Raffi’s high cheekbones. Not in the red hair. That had not come from Thessaly’s family.
“My mom says the best thing about marrying my dad was getting you and Grandfather for parents-in-law,” Raffi said. She sat again on the stool in front of the fireplace in the long living room of Camilla’s white clapboard house.
“Your mom’s a great blessing in our lives.”
“I guess Mom’s own parents were pretty stuffy.”
“They were good people,” Camilla said. “You never really got to know them, did you?”
“They were kind of old when they had Mom, and they didn’t like to travel. And Dad thinks Iowa’s somewhere in the Middle Ages. Mom took me there a couple of times when I was little, to visit my grandparents, but I don’t remember much. They died in some kind of flu epidemic. Mom had a much older brother and sister, and they thought dancing was a sin. I remember at the funeral they were stiff and funny.”
“Do you remember the house?”
“It was a yellow house with a porch across the front. And I remember inside there was a stone fireplace and on the mantelpiece was a picture of Mom and Dad, a wedding picture. Even then I realized that they were totally glamorous, and the picture was out of place in that house. I think I remember, after the funeral, that the brother took it down.”
Yes, that wedding picture had indeed been glamorous. It had been in most of the New York papers, both Taxi and Thessaly having made names for themselves in the world of theatre and dance. They were married at the Little Church Around the Corner, as the Church of the Transfiguration was affectionately known, the church willing to marry actors and dancers and other marginal characters at a time when the more fashionable and traditional churches turned them away. By the time Taxi and Thessaly were married this had changed, although the fact that this was Taxi’s third wedding raised questions, so they did not look elsewhere. It was Taxi’s choice. The question of the seminary chapel, with Mac officiating, was not brought up, and Camilla and Mac held their peace.
Thessaly’s parents flew in from Iowa, calling their daughter by her baptismal name of Esther, looking baffled when Taxi called her Thessaly. She was still Esther in the ballet program, Esther Jennings, but she was to become Thessaly Xanthakos.
The Jenningses had been ambitious for their late-born, letting her come to New York to study ballet when she was still a teenager, settling her in a small box of a room in a brown-stone house which accepted only young Christian girls of good moral character.
‘She’s a good girl,’ Mrs. Jennings said to Camilla. ‘I know she lives in a world of sin and temptation, but she’s held on to what she believes.’ They were in a guest apartment in the seminary which had been made available to the Jenningses. ‘She danced before she walked, and the minister’s wife had a little dance studio. I know it was our fault—’
Camilla smiled. ‘Was it a fault?’
‘To be honest, Mrs. Xanthakos—though you’re also called Dr. Dickinson, Esther says—?’
‘It’s easier, professionally. Do call me Camilla.’
‘To be honest, it is not the life we would have chosen for her. Her teachers all told us how talented she was, but we still thought the dancing was something she would outgrow.’
‘She’s a lovely dancer,’ Camilla said. ‘Do you remember that Moses’ sister, Miriam, danced after the crossing of the Red Sea?’ This was something that had pleased her when the old professor had talked about it, his face radiant with delight.
Mrs. Jennings clasped her hands tightly. ‘We’re Presbyterians, Jim and I. We don’t know much about the Episcopal Church, but it does make us feel better that your husband is a minister. And he teaches?’
‘Spirituality,’ Camilla said. ‘Prayer, and so forth.’
‘I see,’ said Mrs. Jennings, who did not see. ‘Did it ever worry you, your son being an actor?’
Camilla replied carefully, ‘Our children always worry us, one way or another, don’t they? But acting seems to be Taxi’s métier, and we’re grateful he’s found it.’
‘Esther is not his first wife—’
‘No. He was very young when he—’ She wondered if Mrs. Jennings knew that there had been two wives before Thessaly—Esther.
‘Let me tell you one thing, Mrs., uh, Camilla. Esther is not a quitter. She takes marriage seriously. When she makes her vows she will keep them. Divorce is not an option. I don’t mean to imply—I know your son is a good boy. He loves my Esther.’
‘Yes. She’s a very lovable young woman.’
‘Esther left us long ago. We recognize that. She’s gone beyond us into another world. My other two resent that. They don’t approve. But all her father and I want is for her to be happy.’
—We all want that for our children, Camilla thought,—even though it may not be the best thing we can want for them.
Mrs. Jennings continued, ‘Your son is handsome. Almost beautiful, in a masculine way. Girls must fall all over him.’
‘Sometimes.’
‘I hope he will be good for our Esther.’
Camilla nodded.—I hope so, too.
‘She will be a good wife. She will not put her career before her marriage. I know her. But she’s far from home, Mrs., uh, Camilla. I’m glad she will have you and Reverend Xanthakos nearby. I worry about her. But I suppose we all do that.’
‘Yes, we all do that,’ Camilla agreed.
Perhaps the greatest blessing of this wedding for Camilla was that Frankie flew in from Seattle to be there, quiet, sketchbook always in hand, calmly loving with her parents.
‘I like Thessaly—Esther, whatever her name is,’ she told them. ‘She has stability. I think this one will take.’
‘I hope so,’ Camilla said. ‘Your father and I like her, too.’
“Mom really loves you, Grandmother,” Raffi said. “She says you’re a stabilizing influence.”
Camilla said, “Your mom is a stable person.”
“Most of the time,” Raffi said. “She’s really missed you since you moved up here.”
“I’ve missed her, too,” Camilla said. “Our unplanned ‘Let’s go out to dinner and the movies,’ or just sitting together over a cup of tea and talking.”
“It hurt Mom that her brother and sister didn’t come to the wedding. She said you made all the difference.”
For the few days before Camilla and Mac’s wedding, Rose and Rafferty stayed in a nearby family hotel largely inhabited by widows and widowers who lived there permanently, who wanted their beds made and their rooms cleaned and an available dining room if they did not want to cook. There were always a few rooms for transient guests, and it was only a few minutes from the church and the rectory. Their room contained a large bed, a comfortable sofa and chairs, a tiny kitchenette, and a sizable bath-dressing room. Although Rose protested that it was shabby and not what she was used to, it was comfortable and much more convenient than one of the modern downtown hotels where transportation would have been more of a problem.
Rose quickly got over her miff and plunged i
nto wedding preparations. When she was not following her uncontrolled desires, Rose knew how to behave, and was at her most charming, delightedly appreciative of all the Xanthakoses were doing. She wore pastel-colored dresses and matching cardigans and sandals and went into an orgy of shopping.
Camilla had bought her wedding dress at a shop near the college, knowing that if she did not choose it ahead of time her mother would want something far more elaborate.
‘Shoes,’ Rose said. ‘We have to do something to make up for that dress. I know it’s what you want, darling, but it’s so plain.’
‘Mother,’ Camilla protested, ‘this is a small and simple wedding. Just you and Father, and Mac’s parents, and Frank and Luisa. A ten-foot veil would be completely out of place.’
Rose laughed. ‘Don’t exaggerate, darling. This is your wedding, your wedding!’ And she was off on a waterfall of reminiscences.
Camilla followed Rose from shop to shop. She would have preferred much less fuss. So, she was certain, would Art and Olivia.
Olivia said, ‘Your mother is gracious indeed to allow the wedding to be here.’
‘We could hardly go to Paris!’
‘Nevertheless, it’s generous. Let her have her fun.’
Mac reassured, ‘My mother’s used to this kind of wedding. It doesn’t bother her, and it gives your mother so much pleasure.’
‘Mac, it’s supposed to be our wedding.’
‘It is. I agree with you. I don’t like frills, either. But it’s the only thing we can give your mother.’
‘But—’
His arms went around her. ‘Darling, this is our wedding, and you’re not like your mother, except that you have the very best parts of her, her enthusiasm, her joie de vivre, plus the stability and intelligence of your father, plus all the little lovelinesses that are yours alone.’ Then his mouth was against hers. Finally he stopped long enough to say, ‘If your mother hasn’t been the best example in the world for you in her marriage, if your parents’ problems are still unresolved, then look at my parents. Their problems are resolved, by some strange grace, but what they had to overcome to get to where they are makes Mount Everest look like an anthill.’
Camilla reached for his mouth again, first saying, ‘I just hope Luisa will be tactful.’
Luisa and Frank were to arrive the day before the wedding, Frank coming all the way from Turkey and meeting Luisa in New York so they could fly down together. Once it had become apparent to Luisa that Camilla and Mac were indeed going to get married, she had dropped her dire forebodings and had become, instead, loyally supportive.
While they were waiting for Mac to bring Luisa and Frank in from the airport, and Rose and Rafferty were resting before changing for dinner, Camilla and Olivia sat out on the screened porch. The fan droned quietly overhead, stirring the breeze. Camilla loved the porch, which was more room than porch, with white wicker furniture covered in green-and-blue chintz with touches of yellow, so that there was an effect of water and sky and sunshine.
Olivia said, ‘Your mother is very lovely, my dear, and your father treasures her.’
Yes, Rose had been at her most charming with Olivia and Mac, with their friends, giving no hint of the willful child. Camilla looked over at Olivia, at her slight smile, tolerant eyes. ‘My father has been incredibly patient. My mother—’ Her voice choked and she broke off.
Olivia nodded. ‘Poor thing. It’s a sad affliction when it’s uncontrolled.’
‘Can it be controlled?’
Olivia’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes, my dear. It is not easy, but it can.’
Olivia was on the chaise longue, her legs crossed at her slim ankles, her small feet in comfortable sandals. She wore tan khaki shorts and a blue shirt, an outfit Rose would never have been found in. Camilla said, ‘There are times when she makes me terribly angry.’
‘That’s understandable. She’s your mother. The biological bond can keep us from seeing clearly. It’s easier for me, from my distance, to be objective, to feel compassion for her.’
Camilla leaned forward. ‘Mac says that in the very early days of human beings, when the earth was sparsely populated and the tribes truly didn’t know whether there would be more births than deaths, whether the human race would make it, people had to have a lot of aggression built into them, and a very strong sex drive, in order to survive.’ She laughed. ‘I do sound like an academic. Sorry. All I’m trying to say is that my mother didn’t get the aggression, but she did get the sex drive, all out of proportion.’
‘I’m glad she has your father to take care of her,’ Olivia said.
‘He does the best he can, without giving up his own work, and the doctor says he shouldn’t do that.’
‘I’m sure that’s wise.’
‘Being my mother’s husband often seems to me to be the biggest part of his work. I hope I’ll never hurt Mac.’ As she said it, she laughed at how unrealistic her words were.
‘Oh, my dear, of course you will. Human beings hurt each other. That’s part of our humanness. But you won’t hurt him the way your mother has hurt your father, so don’t worry about that.’
‘I do. I took a sociology course sophomore year in college. Children who have been abused often end up as abusive parents. Children of alcoholics usually swear they’ll never touch a drink and yet, statistically, many of them become alcoholics.’
Olivia remarked dispassionately, ‘You show no latent tendency to be like your mother. You have, I think, your father’s capacity for fidelity, and also the capacity for enjoyment your mother would have had if she’d been able to grow up.’
‘You’re so kind to me …’
‘My dear, I love you, and so does Art. We’re grateful beyond words that Mac has you in his life.’ Tiny Olivia, like her son, had a way of making people feel enfolded in love. She reached out to put her hand lightly over Camilla’s, her fingertip delicately brushing over the ancient ring. ‘Do you know how happy it makes me that you want my mother’s rings?’
‘I’m happy, too.’
‘You’re a deeply loving young woman, despite all your parents have put you through. It has made you strong.’ Olivia paused, looking steadily at Camilla. ‘Mac did good work in Kenya, but he went for the wrong reasons. You should know this, my dear, because it may happen again.’
Camilla looked her unasked question at Olivia. She did not want it to happen again. She did not know how to prevent Mac from retreating.
‘Enough,’ Olivia said. ‘We should be concentrating on joy, not sorrow. A good, long-term marriage does not come easily. God knows it didn’t for Art and me. But it’s worth all the struggle.’ Suddenly her blue eyes were bright with tears.
Rose wept tears of pleasure, of loss, at the small dinner party at the rectory the night before the wedding. After dinner Luisa, who had barely had time to change clothes because the plane was an hour late, pulled Camilla aside.
‘I won’t get a chance to talk to you tomorrow. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re really happy about marrying Mac?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you—oh, shit, Camilla, are you still a virgin?’ Camilla turned away. ‘I know, I know, that’s how it’s supposed to be, but it doesn’t necessarily make for a good wedding night.’
‘Let me worry about that.’
‘At least Mac’s not a virgin. That will help. There was one girl while he was in seminary I thought he—but she suddenly married someone else.’
‘Luisa,’ Camilla started to protest.
‘I just want things to be good for you,’ Luisa said. ‘You’re such a nice girl, Camilla, I mean that in the best sense of the word, I don’t want you to be shocked or surprised or—’
‘Hey, Luisa, I do know the facts of life.’
‘Be happy,’ Luisa said. ‘You’re not like your mother; you’ll enjoy without going overboard, and you’re better wife material than I am.’
Frank came after them then and drew them back into
the living room. ‘Don’t hog Camilla, Lu. People are beginning to ask where she is, and it’s nearly time for the party to break up.’
When the guests left, Rose put her arms around Camilla and begged, ‘Come back to the hotel with me, baby. Please. If you stay here you’ll sit up all night and talk to Luisa. That girl’s changed. She was really very nice to me. But I want my baby to be with me.’
It seemed the least Camilla could do. Her father stayed at the rectory, and Camilla went with her mother. While Rose was undressing, smoothing creams onto her face, her body, Camilla washed her hair in the shower, then got into a hot tub. When she went back into the room, Rose was sitting up in bed, wearing a fluffy bed jacket.
‘Rafferty and I—’ Rose started. ‘Things have been good with us since your engagement to Mac. I don’t know why it should have made such a difference, but it has.’
‘That’s good.’
‘We’ve been—we hadn’t been sleeping together. But now we are again, and I like that. I don’t like being celibate.’
Camilla took her mother’s outstretched hands with a flash of understanding. Sleeping with other men did not constitute the breaking of celibacy for Rose. If she was not making love with her husband, she was being celibate.
‘It’s easier for me to be good,’ Rose went on, ‘when it’s like this, when your father and I—when I feel that he loves me.’
‘You know he loves you, Mother,’ Camilla said. She could not add, He wouldn’t have put up with you otherwise, because that was something Rose would not understand.
‘You’ll be a good wife for Mac,’ Rose said. ‘He’s a nice lad. It’s too bad he’s a minister, he’ll never make much money. But your father and I’ll see to it that you’ll never want.’
‘We’ll manage,’ Camilla said. ‘We’ll be fine. We don’t need much.’ Then, feeling ungracious, she added, ‘Thanks for everything you’ve given me, all the lovely clothes.’
‘I’m sick that you aren’t going to have a proper honeymoon, just a couple of nights. Your father and I would have been glad to—’
A Live Coal in the Sea Page 11
