"Bring it on," Jamie encouraged. "If Ryan has her way, we’ll be shopping at the Army/Navy surplus for our clothes and Goodwill for house-wares. I might as well soak it up while I can."
The limo pulled into the long drive off the main road, the tires crunching loudly over the oyster-shell surface. Jamie lowered her window and smiled as she heard the crackles and pops. The sea air was thick and heavy with moisture, and she turned to her mother with an excited grin. "I’d forgotten how familiar this all is to me. I can still remember riding bikes down this drive and hearing those shells crack under the weight of my tires."
Sharing her smile and her recollections, Catherine said, "I don’t know why, but the ocean even smells different here. You’d think the Atlantic and the Pacific would have the same feeling, but they really don’t."
"No, they don’t," Jamie agreed. Cocking her head, she asked, "I don’t know why but I have a memory of your father being here with us. Was he?"
Catherine reached over and squeezed her hand, smiling softly as she said, "The year before he died, he finally agreed to come with us. I think that was the longest period of time you and he ever spent together. You had a fabulous time." Her voice cracked a little, and Jamie gave her a return squeeze.
"I’m glad I came with you, Mother. It’s nice to be able to share these things with you."
"Indeed it is," Catherine agreed, taking in a deep breath, letting the familiar smells of the ocean waft over her like a cloud. Without conscious thought, her mind wandered to a picture of a very young Jamie sitting on her grandfather’s lap while he captained them around Narragansett Bay. Even though Bill Smith had lived just up El Camino Real in Atherton–mere minutes from Hillsborough, Jim and Catherine had not seen him frequently. The older man had little patience with infants, and only slightly more with toddlers, so they kept most of their visits to an occasional Sunday brunch at the club, or holiday dinners. But on this one trip, something about Jamie had captivated him. Perhaps it was because Jamie was an extraordinarily mature child, able to converse with adults at a very young age. Or maybe it was because Bill had the time to really relax and enjoy the young child, with few interruptions, or other obligations. Whatever it was, Catherine mused that she had rarely been as happy as she was during that month. Her father bonding with her child was a wish she had never seriously held out hope for, and to have it given to her was enormously rewarding.
Sadly, only a few months after that trip his health began to fail, and shortly after Christmas he passed away, leaving Catherine completely bereft. Jamie had obviously retained some faint memories of that trip, but they had rarely spoken of that time together, indeed had rarely spoken of her father at all. Instead, Catherine often pulled those lovely times from her memory bank and savored them gratefully, but alone. Speaking of it now, she realized how much more fulfilling it would have been to let her daughter share in her grief and longing at the time of her father’s death. She honestly thought that she was doing the right thing at the time, that Jamie was too young to understand death and the impact it had. But looking back, she realized that she had squandered an opportunity to grow closer to her daughter. How many of those chances have you ignored or found that you were too afraid to capitalize on, Catherine? Well, no more! Jamie’s doing her very best to give you another try–and you’re not going to ruin this opportunity!
As the servants carried their things into the house, Jamie whispered, "It’s nearly ten o’clock. Shouldn’t someone be up by now?"
"You know that your Uncle David was never a morning person," Catherine reminded her. "And since he’s just getting over the flu, I’d expect that he’d be taking it easier than normal."
That would be comatose, Jamie mused to herself, thinking of her uncle’s normal lethargic routine. David Dunlop was the brother of Catherine’s mother, Phoebe. He had inherited the estate, or "cottage" as the family insisted upon calling it, upon his mother’s death in the early 1960s. Jamie had not seen him for an extended period in twelve years, but even then he was almost completely inactive. His health was actually fine, perhaps because he uses his body so infrequently, she thought with a mental smirk.
"May I show you to your rooms?" asked the white-jacketed, bow-tied young man who had carried their bags in.
"Certainly," Catherine said, and she and Jamie followed the man up the central staircase. The suite they were shown to was, in Jamie's recollection, the same one that they had occupied during their previous visits. Near the back of the house, the two generous bedrooms were connected by a very large bath. Both rooms had a view of the ocean, and Jamie immediately opened her windows to let in the fresh breeze. Like most grand houses of the period, the house was not air conditioned, but there was nearly always a good breeze, and each room had a large transom over the door to allow for a cross breeze from one room to the next.
"Mr. Dunlop has asked me to tell you that the family will gather at eleven for brunch. Will you be able to attend?"
"Of course," Catherine replied, and Jamie saw her nap fly out the window. "You’ll join us, won’t you, Jamie?"
"Wouldn’t miss it," she smiled, reminding herself that she was here to spend the time visiting with her mother, not catching up on her sleep. "What was your name?" she asked the young man who was exiting the room.
"Duncan," he replied evenly.
"Good to meet you, Duncan," Jamie said.
"It’s a pleasure." His face remained expressionless, and Jamie mused that Duncan looked less than happy with his job. He probably hates to have a house full of people here for a month. I bet Uncle David keeps him hopping–and doesn’t give him a dime more in salary…for hazard pay!
As Jamie was getting ready for brunch she heard a knock on the door. "Come in, Mother," she called.
Catherine opened the door just a few inches and asked, "Do you have a moment? I need to talk to you."
"Sure, come on in."
Jamie had just started to change for brunch and she paused in mid-action, not quite knowing whether she should continue to undress, or put her travel clothes back on. She had been slightly uncomfortable to have her mother see her undressed for years now, and the fight they had over Christmas break didn’t help the issue. Catherine had seen her daughter nearly naked when she was getting ready for a bike ride, and the older woman was dismayed over the muscles that Jamie had developed through her workouts. It had actually been quite upsetting for both of them, and Jamie was a little afraid of having a repeat of the argument.
As Catherine entered the room, she averted her eyes and said quickly, "Let me come back when you’ve changed."
Steeling herself, Jamie decided to accept this small test. She needed to force herself to act more naturally around her mother, and changing clothes was one such act. "No, it’s fine. I don’t mind," she reassured her.
"All right," Catherine said with some hesitation, then walked over and sat on the upholstered window seat and began watching the boats plying the waters.
Jamie had taken her clothes out of the suitcase and was in the process of placing them in her dresser when her mother had entered. She was clad only in her bra and panties, but she forced herself to continue her tasks as if she was alone. She had only one outfit to hang in the closet, and as she did so, her mother laughed softly. "Are you staying the whole week?" she asked.
"Yes, I just assumed that we’d go shopping. No sense in bringing clothes that I won’t wear," she said logically. "Did I guess correctly?"
"Yes, I’d love to go shopping tomorrow." There was a long pause and Catherine asked tentatively, "Do you still like to shop, Dear?"
"Lesbians don’t all wear jeans and Tshirts, Mother," she said in a slightly pointed tone.
"That’s not what I meant, Jamie," she began to say, but she stopped herself short. "I suppose that is what I meant to say after all," she admitted. "You’re just going through so many changes, I’m not sure what you like to do any longer."
"I think I’ll always like clothes," she assured her with a smile
. "I think that’s the Dunlop genes coming through."
"It must be, because the Smiths are some of the most poorly attired people I’ve ever met!" Catherine laughed at her joke, continuing to stare intently at the boats that were visible from the window seat.
"So, what did you want to speak to me about?" Jamie asked as she stepped into a pair of celadon-colored linen slacks.
"I’m uncomfortable asking you for this favor, but it means a lot to me, so I’m going to ask anyway," she said as she nodded her head once in a decisive gesture.
"What is it, Mother?" Jamie was just about to put on a cream-colored cotton sleeveless v-neck sweater, but she walked over to her mother with the garment still in her hand.
Catherine took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself, finally looking Jamie directly in the eyes. "I wish you would not bring up your relationship with Ryan, at least in front of your great-aunts and uncles," she said firmly.
Sitting next to her mother on the window seat, Jamie blew out a breath and slipped her sweater over her head. After a few minutes she asked, "Do you mind telling me why?"
Catherine replied to that question with a question of her own. "Do you recall why you told me that you would not admit to your relationship when I first asked you about it?"
"Yes. I said I wasn’t comfortable with the idea yet. I didn’t want to have to explain or defend myself before I felt completely comfortable." She placed her hand on her mother’s knee and gently asked, "Is that how you feel?"
Catherine gave her a nod so slight that it was almost imperceptible.
"Okay. I promise I won’t bring it up. But I hope you don’t expect me to lie about Ryan. I’m proud of my love for her, and I can’t betray that love by denying it. But I will agree to do my best to avoid the topic in conversation. Is that good enough?"
"That’s very generous of you, Jamie." She reached up and brushed the hair off her daughter’s forehead with a gesture very similar to one that Ryan often made. "You’ve been so mature about this whole thing, it makes me very proud of you."
Jamie took her mother’s hand and kissed it gently before releasing it. "You’ve been very supportive so far, Mother. I want to thank you for that support by giving you the time you need to become comfortable with my sexual orientation."
"Thank you, Dear. I know this is just temporary for me. And it won’t bother me if you wish to speak to your cousins or even my cousins about this. It’s mainly your great-aunt’s and uncles that I’d rather have not know just yet."
"All right. I don’t know any of my cousins well enough to assume the subject will come up, but if it does I might tell them."
"Thank you, Dear. Are you ready?" she asked as she stood.
Jamie stood and hooked her mother’s arm in hers. "Let’s go greet the Dunlops," she said with a smile.
Just a few minutes before ten, Jordan came up the driveway on her bike, an enormous backpack nearly causing her to tumble off when she stopped. "Hey, what are you doing sitting outside?" she asked, when she spotted Ryan sitting on the top step, head in her hands.
The dark head lifted, and it was obvious that she hadn’t even noticed that Jordan had arrived. She blinked her eyes slowly, trying to snap out of the fog she was in. "I’m sorry, what did you say?"
Walking her bike up the sidewalk, Jordan approached cautiously, a little surprised by Ryan’s odd demeanor. "Hey, are you okay?"
Ryan looked anything but okay, but Jordan couldn’t actually figure out what was wrong with her. She looked more depressed than anything, so Jordan hazarded another question when Ryan didn’t immediately respond. "Are you really this upset to be leaving Jamie?"
Standing up and stretching to unkink her back, Ryan shook her head briskly. "No, she’s out of town with her mother. She was going to go later in the summer, but when I found out about this, we decided to move it up. It’s actually worked out well, schedule-wise."
"Then what is it?" Jordan was not usually the type to pry into the personal lives of others, but Ryan looked so completely bereft that she couldn’t help herself.
"Long story, pal," she said. "I’ll fill you in on the way down to Santa Cruz." As they walked into the house to fetch Ryan’s gear, she added, "Next time, let me come pick you up, okay? I didn’t realize that you didn’t have a car."
"It’s a deal," the lanky blonde agreed, sliding her arm around Ryan’s waist as she gave her a grateful smile.
"Now, let me get this straight," Jordan said, nearly an hour after they had departed. "Jamie’s in Rhode Island with her mother… her father came here this morning and basically threatened you… now tell me again why you’re not on the phone with her?"
"I told you," Ryan explained patiently. "She just got there, and I don’t want her to get hit with this the second she walks in the door. Besides, she said she was going to go to bed as soon as she could. She took the red-eye, so I know she’s really tired."
"Ryan," Jordan said with less patience, "You are insane if you don’t tell her immediately. Her father sounds like a total loon! You said yourself that he was going to make her stay in Rhode Island for the rest of the summer, and that he threw you out of the house! I don’t know Jamie that well, but if it was me, I’d be on the first plane back here!"
Ryan shook her head in irritation, knowing that Jordan had a good point, and not really wanting to be reminded of it. "You don’t know Jamie well, Jordan, but your guess is completely accurate. She’d probably hire a charter jet to get back here this afternoon! She’s usually calm and deliberate about her decisions, but this will drive her absolutely crazy!"
"And that’s a reason NOT to tell her?" Jordan was completely puzzled by her friend’s hardheadedness on this topic, and she could tell that Ryan was struggling with it.
"I’m torn, Jordan," she admitted. "She’s a little hot-tempered where her father is concerned right now, and I’m afraid she’ll come back here and do something crazy."
Jordan took that statement in, letting it roll around in her mind for a few moments. She finally looked at Ryan and asked, "Isn’t what her father did crazy?"
"Yes, yes, of course it was," Ryan said, irritated that Jordan was bringing up yet another good point. "But with him angry, and her angry, God knows what would happen. I don’t want her to have an irrevocable split with him."
"Isn’t that her decision?" Jordan’s soft soprano voice was unyielding, and once again Ryan wished she had given one of the nice, malleable freshmen a ride, rather than her opinionated friend.
"Yes, Jordan, it is her decision. And I won’t stand in her way if she chooses to do that. But I want to calm down before I tell her. There’s no sense in me getting her more upset than she will be on her own. She’s supposed to call me tonight…I’ll tell her then."
Reaching across the car, Jordan squeezed Ryan’s knee. "You’ll feel better when you do, Ryan. I’m sure of it."
"That makes one of us," Ryan muttered, knowing that having Jamie upset never made her feel better.
On the way down the stairs, Jamie could hear the murmur of voices as well as the tinkling of ice in glasses coming from the solarium. The lovely glass-enclosed room was located right next to the dining room, and was the usual gathering place for the family for before-dinner drinks.
Entering the sun-drenched space, Jamie mentally corrected herself to include before-brunch drinks, also. All three generations of Dunlops were gathered, and the alcohol was flowing liberally.
When their arrival was noted, Patsy Dunlop, David’s wife, approached and greeted Catherine with a tentative hug and a kiss that landed well short of her cheek. Turning to Jamie, she made a move to offer the same to her, pulling away immediately when Jamie attempted to actually touch her body. After several more rounds of uncomfortable encounters she wondered, Lord, does everyone have osteoporosis, or do they just hate touching!? I was hugged with more enthusiasm by Ryan’s neighbors at the 4th of July party than I am by relatives here!
Much was made of Jamie’s attendance at the gathering, mo
st of the family having not seen her in 12 years. Her uncle David was mixing Bloody Marys for everyone, and he pointedly told Jamie that he was glad she and her cousin David were finally "legal."
She accepted the drink, but almost choked when she tasted the tremendous amount of alcohol in it. He seems to have forgotten the ‘Bloody’ part, she thought while she tried to find an inconspicuous place to leave the drink. If I drink this, I’ll be on my ass, and it’s only eleven a.m.!
Luckily, a white-jacketed butler called them to brunch. As everyone filed out, she dashed over to the wet bar and poured half the drink down the sink. Filling the glass up with tomato juice, she trotted after the others into the dining room to take her seat.
She observed her great-uncle David as he took his place at the head of the table. He was a small man, as were most of the Dunlops. He actually looked a good deal like the faded photos and oil paintings of the patriarch of the family, Wilbur Dunlop. Jamie’s mind strayed for a moment to her great-great-grandfather, the font of the family wealth. Wilbur’s eventual social standing belied his humble beginnings as an accounting clerk in the office of one of the leading coal mines in Pittsburgh. His tremendous business acumen and a series of very favorable circumstances slowly gave way to his rise, first in the Pittsburgh Mining Company, and eventually to the ownership of Dunlop Mines. This ultimately led to his becoming known as the "Crown Prince of Coal"–a sobriquet which befitted his position as the owner of over 30% of the operating coalmines during the last part of the 19th century. He and his wife Maxine, had two children, Orville, Jamie’s great-grandfather, and a daughter, Julia, who died at the age of 88 the year Jamie was born, never having married.
Orville had assumed control of the mining company upon his father’s death, but the business never held his interest. In this instance, however, his indifference served the family in good stead. Fortuitously, he began to sell off individual mines to smaller companies, just before the price of coal began to plummet thanks to the more ready supply of natural gas and diesel fuel as a source of home heating. He wisely diversified his massive wealth, investing in a wide variety of concerns. Even after the market crash of 1929, he was still flush enough to be able to acquire a great deal of stock in many companies at rock bottom prices, and when the market began to turn around in the 40s, the financial security of the Dunlop family was assured for many, many generations of spendthrifts. Jamie was pulled from her reverie by the scion of the family making a semi-formal address.
Fidelity - SF6 Page 8
