A Live Coal in the Sea Part 8

And there was Frank. It had been hard for her to visualize him as an adult, and not the teenager she had known. He was taller than she remembered, and solid, with great strong shoulders like a football player's. He came to her, his hands out.

She took them, looking at him. She did not know what she had expected to feel, but she had expected something, some fluttering in her stomach, some p.r.i.c.kling of her skin. But what she was looking for in him was word about Mac. He was Mac's best friend. Maybe he could tell her ...

'Okay,' Luisa said, 'if we're going out to dinner, let's go. I had a hard time clearing my schedule for this.'Madeleine L'Engle70 Frank grinned. 'If it's too much for you, I'm quite capable of taking Camilla out on my own.'

'Nuts to you, Frank Rowan, let's go.'

They went to a neighborhood pizzeria, at Frank's request, since he said he hadn't had pizza since he left New York. He smiled across the small table at Camilla. 'You've changed.'

'It happens.'I 'We were kids, and now life has caught up with us. So you're still living with the stars.'

She smiled. 'It's a little less vague than that.' 'Sure. Sorry. And Lu's in medical school.'

'That isn't vague, either,' Luisa said. 'I have to admit I was relieved when my cadaver turned out to be an old man in his eighties. One of my friends got somebody our own age. That was tough.'

Camilla leaned back, listening to Luisa's tales of medical school, but looking at Frank. She liked him, liked the man he had become, but he awakened none of the old ecstasy. Nor, she felt, did he respond to her with anything beyond friendship.

'As soon as we finish eating,' he said, 'I've got to go downtown to see Mona.'

His and Luisa's mother. 'Life hasn't been easy for her.'

'She's doing okay,' Luisa said. 'She can pay the rent and go to the theatre and she dates occasionally.'

'She's still not happy.'

'Why does everybody expect to be happy?' Luisa demanded. 'Most people aren't.

What is it that guy said? Most people lead lives of--of--2 'Quiet desperation,' Camilla said. 'Was it Emerson?'

'Th.o.r.eau,' Frank said. 'Walden.'

Luisa made a face. 'Mona's desperation is seldom quiet. More power to her.

G.o.d, what our mothers put us through!' 'What we do with what they put us through is up to us,' Frank said.

Th.o.r.eau? Or A Live Coal in the Sea 71.

'Don't be pompous.'

'If we have kids ourselves, we'll probably put them through a lot, too. It's the nature of the beast.'

Camilla enjoyed the evening. Before he left for the subway Frank invited her out to dinner the next night, to Luisa's displeasure, since she had cla.s.ses she couldn't cut and wouldn't be able to join them.

'Then I'm off to Cleveland to see Dad, and then back to the Middle East.'

He took Camilla to an Italian restaurant in the Village. 'Remember?'

'Sure. I haven't been here since-' 'Since?'

'Since we were here together. It's exactly the same.' 'But we're not.'

'It would be pretty regressive if we were. So what do you do in Turkey?'

'I run a small Christian press.' 'Christian?'

He replied mildly, 'In my own modest way I'm a sort of a missionary.'

'What does that mean?' She had learned enough from Mac not to jump to uninformed conclusions.

'That I believe people have a right to literacy, to learn how to read and write.'

'Oh.

'Do you share my sister's prejudices?'

'Not necessarily. I just don't know much about it. What I do know comes from Mac.'

He looked at her across the table, raising his brows slightly. 'Luisa tells me you and Mac saw something of each other for a while.'

'Yes. Mac does good work, and he says you do, too.' She spoke too quickly, trying to keep emotion out of her voice.

Madeleine L'Engle-72 'We try. "Christian" is a trampled-on word. What it means to me, and to Mac, too, is that everybody should have a chance for enough to eat, reasonable medical care, and an opportunity to get off the treadmill and have a chance to pray or worship without fear. My part in the process is presses, so that pamphlets and papers and ultimately books can be taken from village to village, to reach as many people as possible.'

'Not just Christians?'

He laughed. 'You've been listening to Luisa, haven't you? If I understand the Gospel, the Good News is for everybody, and is to be shared by concern and example, not coercion or propaganda. If people matter, I have to care about the fact that they're poor and hungry and illiterate, whether they're Moslem, Hindu, Buddhist, or whatever.'

Lifting ravioli to her mouth, she paused and smiled at him with delight. 'Oh, Frank, you haven't changed. You're just more the same person you were when we were kids, and I'm glad.' The same, and yet her reaction was not the same.

She liked him, but that wild and tremulous beating of love was no longer there.

Not with Frank. 'Mac,' she said. 'You're friends . . .'

He nodded. 'Lifetime friends.' He looked directly at her. 'Are things good with the two of you?'

She took her hands from the table and placed them carefully in her lap.

'We're friends,' she said slowly.

'Mac's written to me about you.' Frank continued to look at her steadily.

Startled, she asked, 'What did he say?'

Frank smiled. 'He likes you. As you've probably noticed, Mac's a very private person. He's been hurt, betrayed, so he's cautious. I'm glad the two of you've come together.'

They had. And then Mac had left, taken them apart. She looked down at her plate.

'He told me you met in Korea.'

He looked at her in surprise. 'He usually tells people about our being cla.s.smates in seminary.'

A Live Coal in the Sea-73 'Oh. Yeah.' Was it Luisa, rather than Mac, who had talked about Korea?

'We were raw kids,' Frank said, and added a few drops to her barely touched gla.s.s of wine.

She looked at the garnet liquid, but saw the desk in her library carrel with papers and magazines spread out on it. 'Did guys really rat on each other?

Accuse each other of collaboration even if it wasn't true?'

Frank said, 'This is good, crusty bread. Have some. You may remember that I grew up on the streets of New York. If I was ever innocent, I've forgotten.'

'You were idealistic-2 'Idealistic, but not innocent. And not good. And I didn't expect other people to be good. But Mac did. Maybe it was growing up in the South, being a preacher's kid-I don't know. He'd seen a lot of bad stuff in his life, but he still expected other people to be good. So he told you about Korea.' He pulled off a chunk of bread and put it in his mouth.

'No. It was Luisa. Mac didn't tell me anything.' Now she remembered clearly.

Luisa had brought Korea up and Mac had closed down.

'As I said, Mac had seen some really bad stuff in his life, but nothing to prepare him for Korea. I suppose Luisa told you we were both prisoners of war?'

She shook her head. Frank continued, asking, 'You've heard of brainwashing?'

She shuddered. 'Yes.' Brainwashing. It was a new phrase, come into the language with this war.

'Mac and I were tried for being collaborators. Ultimately we were exonerated and given honorable discharges.' His voice was level, controlled. Then for a moment it shook. 'We were in h.e.l.l together, Mac and I, and that will make people either hate each other or love each other forever.'

'You love each other.'

'Yes. One thing about having been in h.e.l.l is that it gives one a keen appreciation for all the little lovely things in life.

Madeleine L'Engle,74 Like food. This is good ravioli. Like being allowed to sleep through a whole night without interruption. No sleep deprivation, my G.o.d, it's good. Like-oh, I.

even enjoy having spats with Luisa.'

The candle on their table had burned out. They sat in the shadows of their booth.

'You're good to be with, Camilla. Mostly, like Mac, I don't talk about Korea.

You've always known how to listen. Not many people do. And now both you and I have someone we've given our hearts to.'

Again she did not'respond.

'You'd like Bethann. She reminds me of you, not just because her parents have money, unlike mine, but because of a certain quality, a realness. Is it that way with you and Mac?' 'I haven't seen Mac since he went to Kenya.'

'But he writes.'

'Yes.' Not love letters. But he did write.

'He's a good guy, one of the best.' Frank stood up, helped her into her coat, took her elbow as they went up the steps to the sidewalk. 'How about a friendly kiss?'

She laughed. 'I'm not sure what a friendly kiss is, anymore. My mother has muddied the waters.'

'I gather she can't keep out of your life?' He pressed his cheek against hers.

It was slightly rough; comforting. Camilla leaned against him. 'She loves being taken for a student. Not for a mother.'

'Sorry, Cam.' He touched his lips lightly to hers, then tucked her hand under his arm. 'We're stuck with our parents' messed-up lives, aren't we? But we don't have to let their messes be part of our own lives.'

Without thinking she asked, 'What about Mac's parents?' 'They are amazing and terrific people. I love them. But they've had their own messes.'

'As bad as-'

'Don't try to make comparisons. By whose standards do A Live Coal in the Sea,75 we compare? Yes, at least as bad as. That doesn't make them any less wonderful.

You haven't met them?'

'No.'

'You'll love them when you do.'

Why did he think she would ever meet Mac's parents? They walked along toward the subway, Frank holding her close to his side as they moved through the crowded streets.

They rode the subway uptown, Frank finding a seat for her and standing in front of her, holding on to a strap. At the entrance to Luisa's apartment he kissed her good night. A fraternal kiss. They did not mention Mac again.

What did all this have to do with Raffi's questions? Questions to which Raffi was owed an answer. All the memories which were flooding Camilla were part of the story, but only marginally. Frank barely touched on the central events.

Mac, even Mac, was not the central character in what Camilla had to tell Raffi.

No, it was not her husband but her mother, Rose, on whom the story hinged.

Rose was in the forefront of her mind as little as possible. Camilla was liked by her colleagues, by the students. She was a good teacher. She enjoyed working with the undergraduates, teaching basic astronomy to them, not quite the equivalent of Freshman English, because they had to have a good math background; still, elementary astronomy. Her own enthusiasm was contagious.

Her life and the lives of her parents were both geographically and physically far apart. Her mother, she suspected, continued to have affairs. Why should that change? Camilla went home, dutifully, for the Thanksgiving weekend and, at her father's request, went to the psychiatrist her parents were seeing.

Madeleine L'Engle76 'I can't do much for your mother,' he said. 'She is emotionally r.e.t.a.r.ded.

It's not going to change. I can help your father. He's quite right when he tells you he is necessary to your mother. He's the only emotional ballast she's got.

She would kill herself if he left her, not a fake suicide, a cry-forhelp suicide, but a real one. It's not an easy situation. Do you love your mother?'

She smiled sadly. 'She's very lovable.' Then she asked, 'Am I in any way a threat to her?'

Raffi asked, "Am I in any way a threat to him, Dr. Row an?"

"Should that be your concern, Raffi?"

"If I'm a threat to him, then he'll take it out on "In what way?"

"He'll put me down." "How?"