122 "I haven't done much so far," Daddy said. "I'm going to have to set up a regular routine of work. If I don't get it done before I resume private practice-" "-it'll never be done," Mother finished. She looked around the kitchen, as though seeing it for the first time. "There are so many people who live in cramped quarters, and when something like this happens, they don't have the choice we do, to keep Father at home, to be with him. They have to resort to a nursing home; they don't have any alternative . . ." Daddy put his arm around her. "Perhaps it's easier when there is no alternative." "No, no," Mother murmured. "I'm always boring the kids by telling them that something easy isn't worth anything. And it seems somehow as if this--this is meant. You'll never have another summer like this when you're able to work anywhere you want. How's that article going?" "The article's finished, at any rate," Daddy said. "I sent it off to the New England Medical Journalthis morning." He looked at me. "I've got more than enough work to keep me busy this summer. Vicky, I've appreciated that you were willing to give up a good job." After the complimentary way in which Daddy spoke, I didn't say that it burned me that Suzy'd been allowed to turn down the same good job and do what she wanted to do. Daddy continued, "Even though you're going to be more, rather than less, needed as the summer goes on, you don't have to be a slave here twenty-four hours a day." "She certainly doesn't," Mother agreed. "I wish you had some kind of a project, Vicky." "Well, I sort of do." 123 "What?" "Adam has a dolphin project going, and I'm helping him." "You don't have any background in marine biology or any other kind of biology," Daddy said. "Adam's filling me in on what I need." I stopped then, because I could see that Daddy thought my helping Adam was just about as made up a job as Suzy's helping Jacky. Only he thought that Suzy had more qualifications for helping Jacky than I did for helping Adam. And without telling about Basil there was no way I could explain anything. And as for people living in cramped quarters, Mother and Daddy had Grandfather's bedroom, but we kids were all together up in the loft. "Don't scowl," Mother said. "You're getting lines in your forehead." "I'm not scowling." "Vicky, this summer's not easy on any of us . . ." Mother turned away. "Who's complaining?" I couldn't keep the brittleness out of my voice. I sounded grimly ungracious. So I added, "We all want to be with him. You know that." And then, "I'll go make your bed. I'll get Rob to help me." �*� We had to take Grandfather's desk out of his study stall to make way for the hospital bed. Daddy put the desk in the stall with the science books and announced that it was going to be his office from now on, and if we wanted any of the books we'd better take them now, because when he was in his office he was going to be writing and he was not to be disturbed. 124 The hospital bed was electric, with buttons which raised and lowered it, up and down, head and feet, and when it was flat down with one of those Indian bedspreads on it, it looked like an ordinary bed, but even an ordinary bed had no place in Grandfather's study. Daddy found a sturdy table to put by the bed to hold the phone, and a reading lamp, and Grandfather's Bible, and whatever other books he might want to have right by him. Later that day the phone men came to put the phone on a jack, so that it could be unplugged if Grandfather wanted to nap. Or, as he said, to meditate. And in the afternoon Mrs. Rodney came by. Since the house was empty, Grandfather was in his usual place on the lumpy couch on the porch, "where I can see the ocean and sky." Mother and I were in the kitchen, preparing the vegetables for a pot roast. We weren't talking, but it was an all- right silence. I didn't know what she was thinking, but her face didn't have the white, pulled-tight look it had when she and Daddy brought Grandfather home after the blood transfusion. I was working on a poem in my head, hurrying to get the carrots scraped so I could go up to the loft and set it down. We heard a knock on the door, and Mother said, "Go see who it is, Vicky, and check that the swallows aren't upset." I slipped out through the porch, shutting the door quietly behind me, because Grandfather had his eyes closed. When I got around to the front of the house, Mrs. Rodney was backing away. "Those swallows were dive-bombing me. And their nest is much too shallow. They'll be lucky if those fledglings 125 learn to fly before they fall out. Are your parents at home?" "Yes. Daddy's writing, and Mother's in the kitchen." "I'd like to see them for just a few minutes. I take it you're not using the front door for the duration?" She looked at the three parent swallows anxiously fluttering about the nest. "That's right." We went in through the side door, the one that leads into the stall where Daddy was working. He looked up, frowning, then smiled as he saw Mrs. Rodney. I knew he hated being interrupted, but I also had a hunch that Mrs. Rodney had something important to say, so I left her there and went to the kitchen to get Mother. When we got back to Daddy's stall, Mrs. Rodney was saying, "And since my refresher course at the hospital doesn't begin till September I'm free as a lark this summer, and I'd like to be Mr. Eaton's nurse." "That's very kind of you," Daddy said. "At the moment he doesn't need much in the way of nursing." "But he's going to." "I can-" Mother started. Mrs. Rodney broke in. "Please let me. It will make me feel needed. I love your father, and I amtrained to do things like giving a bed bath without jolting or hurting." Daddy nodded, twirling the felt pen he'd been writing with. "Victoria, I think your father would rather not have you see his weakness. Nancy, it's very generous of you, and we're most grateful." Mrs. Rodney said, "And this is friendship on my part, not business. I want that understood." Daddy said, "We'll see about that when the time comes." "Suzy told us about the transfusion. It helped?" 126 "Greatly." "If you think he should have them on a regular basis, I think we could manage them here, rather than putting him to the fatigue and stress of going to the hospital." Now Mother spoke. "Oh, good. The hospital was--efficient, for the most part, and altogether horrible." "Most city hospitals are," Mrs. Rodney said briskly, "especially the emergency rooms. Many people get frustrated with the long waits in the clinics, and so they come to the emergency rooms. The result is that there's no way everybody can be treated promptly." Mother said, "If my husband hadn't been a physician, and able to cut through red tape, we might still be there. And I waited in the emergency room-it seemed hours." "City emergency rooms can be pretty awful," Mrs. Rodney said. "It's a pity we won't have our cottage hospital on the Island till next summer. But Dr. Austin can arrange for the blood, and Leo can bring it from the mainland. The kids and I'll all donate some blood. You'll let me know whenever I'm needed?" Mother put her hands swiftly to her face, covering her eyes, then dropped them. "Nancy, to say thank you is simply inadequate-" "It's little enough. My nursing is the one gift I have to offer a family that's very dear to me. By the way, Vicky, that black-haired young Lothario is planning quite a day for you on Saturday." I'd phoned Zachary to tell him it was all right, but now I wasn't sure I wanted to leave, even for a few hours. "Zachary likes to do things elegantly." "Poor young man," Mrs. Rodney said. "It took courage 127 for him to come talk to me the way he did. I hope he makes something of himself." "I hope so, too," Daddy said, but he didn't sound optimistic. "If Vicky gives him a helping hand, that'll do a lot for him. You've been very good to Leo, Vicky. Thank you." "Leo's-quite a guy," I fumbled. "He's got a lot of growing up to do. Well, folks, I've got to get along home. Thanks." "Thank you, Nancy," Daddy said, and got up from the desk to see her out. "After those fledglings are out of the nest, this door becomes verboten." �*3 When we lived in Thornhill, bedtime used to be one of the best parts of the day. Mother always read to us, and we sang, and said prayers, and sometimes Mother would get her guitar and sit on the stairs where we could all hear her equally well, and sing. In New York it changed, not because it was New York and a very different world but, as Mother said, in the nature of things and our growing up. John was away at college, and anyhow for the past couple of years he'd stopped being part of the good-night ritual because of homework. And I had enough homework to occupy me till bedtime, and I stayed up an hour later than Suzy and a couple of hours later than Rob, and my bedtime routine had become little more than saying good night to Mother and Daddy. So that evening after dinner I was pleased to have Daddy say, "How about some reading aloud in the evenings?" "I'd like that," Grandfather said. "What kind of a book?" John asked. 128 "I hadn't really thought that far," Daddy said. "Your mother reads aloud beautifully and I'd be happy to hear almost anything." "How about the phone book?" John suggested. "How about Twelfth Nightor The Tempest,"Grandfather put in. "We run quite an age gamut and they'd be as good for Rob as for me." "Twelfth Night,"Mother said. "It's not quite as much of a fairy tale as The Tempest,but it's got some lovely stuff in it." "And all those songs, too," Daddy said. "If you'll tell me where it is. Father, I'll get it." Instead of getting up, Grandfather nodded. "In the art and drama stall, there's a big set of Shakespeare. You can't miss it." "One act a night," Mother announced as Daddy handed her the book. "Unless we set a definite limit at once, you won't be able to stop me." Twelfth Nightbegins with music, so she started with a song, and then began: if music be the food of love, play on. I layon the worn porch floor, my eyes closed, listening. Suddenly I realized that Mother does read beautifully. In Thornhill she was simply Mother, reading to us, the way anybody's mother might read. Now I knew that not many people could put the richness and life into the words that she did, and that bringing words and music to life was her very special talent. When she finished, she closed the book with a bang. Nobody spoke for a moment. Then she said, "Bedtime." Daddy sighed, a long, contented sigh. "Thank you, Vic- 129 toria. This is going to be a good pattern for our evenings." He looked at Grandfather. "Come along, Father, I'll give you a hand." And I remembered that Grandfather would be sleeping in the hospital bed in his study instead of out on the porch. 6 �*� Those swallows were on my mind. That nest was entirely too shallow. When I brought it up at breakfast Saturday morning, Suzy and Rob were all for getting some hay and building it up so that the fledglings wouldn't fall out, but it was Suzy herself who said, "No. We can't." "Why not?" Rob demanded. "If there's the slightest smell of human hands on the straw the swallows will just abandon the nest. They won't feed the fledglings." "Why?" "They don't trust human beings. And small wonder." "But what'll we do to keep the fledglings from falling out and killing themselves?" Rob's face was puckered with anxiety. Grandfather had come out for breakfast, to sit in the morning sun. "Last year they fell out," he said quietly. "And died?" Suzy's voice rose. "Yes. Swallows tend to be careless about their nests." 131 "Let's put a nice cushion of hay or something soft under the nest," I suggested. "We can put it on the stone step, and then if they fall, it will be soft and maybe won't hurt them." "It'll still smell of human hands," Suzy objected. "Maybe not if it's been there for a few days. Anyhow, it's worth a try." "Can't hurt," John said. "We've got some hay at the station. I'll bring some home tonight." "But that may be too late." Suzy frowned anxiously. "We'll just have to risk it," John said. "Couldn't Vicky bike over and get it this morning?" "Why can't you bike over and get it yourself?" Both John and I thought Suzy's work was made-up work, and that she'd turned down a real job to do something she liked better. Maybe that was so, but I also knew that her work was real to Suzy. And I had brought up the subject of the baby swallows and the nest myself. "I don't mind biking over. I've got a couple of things I need to do after breakfast, but then I'll go." "Oh, thanks, Vicky, thanks," Suzy breathed. "I'll leave it for you, right by the entrance to the main lab," John said. "I'm not sure where I'll be this morning, but you'll find a nice pile of hay waiting for you-and for the swallows." After breakfast I helped Mother with the dishes, and to make up the big four-poster bed for her and Daddy-it takes about a quarter of the time with two people. And we made up the hospital bed in Grandfather's study. "Need me for anything else?" I asked. "No, Vicky. Thanks." 132 "Well-if you don't need me, I'll go get the hay." It was still hot. The sun beat down on me as I biked along. For us, in our part of the world, the sun means life. But in some very hot countries it means death, and with the sweat running down my legs, and my mouth parched and dry, I began to understand why. I should have worn a sun hat or something. I was wondering if I'd feel cooler if I wore long white robes and had my head covered, like an Arab, and I almost fell off my bike when I saw Adam in the doorway to the lab, his arms full of hay. "Where on earth were you?" he demanded. "On earth. But I was thinking of being an Arab. It's hot." Adam didn't need explanations. "We should all be wearing burnooses. Here's your hay. John told me you'd be coming by. I'll help you get it in your bike basket so it won't fly all over the road." "Thanks. How's Basil?" Adam's light came on, full. "Sends you his love. How about Wednesday, Vicky? Can you come over with John?" "Wednesday's perfect." Monday, I remembered, would have to be saved for Leo. "And how's Ynid?" "Nearly to term. As a matter of fact, Jeb thinks it may be Wednesday. You'll go out of your mind with delight at the sight of a baby dolphin. Okay, I think you ought to get the hay home safely, though I take a dim view of its ultimate usefulness." "It's worth a try." "Sure, anything on the side of life's worth a try. I'll see you soon." 133 "Good. Thanks. Thanks a lot, Adam." "Sure." And he ran back into the dimness of the lab. �*� I went for a swim when I got home, to cool off, but climbing back up to the stable made me just as hot as ever. We had cucumber sandwiches for lunch, which is about as cool as anything you can have to eat, and then I took a long, cold shower and dressed to wait for Zachary. I heard the familiar honk, and he came around to the screen porch. He had on black jeans and a white turtle- neck and he looked
spectacular. I wore a pale-blue sundress and Mother had lent me a misty white shawl. It was almost the first time I'd had on a dress since we'd been at the Island. Well, the other time had been at Commander Rodney's funeral. "Those idiot swallows are cheeping away," Zachary said. "I see you're hoping to keep them from suicide. Or matricide. Anyhow, that nest's too shallow. Ready, Vicky-O?" "Ready." Leo was waiting for us at the dock. So was Suzy. I saw her eyeing me critically, and waited for her to make some kind of snide remark, but all she said was, "I polished all the brass on the launch. Appreciate it." "Looks gorgeous." "Like yourself," Leo said. Zachary looked at me with the same appraising eye as Suzy. "She'll do, by Jove, she'll do. That dress brings out the color of your eyes, and you're getting to have a splendid bod." Leo scowled, and I could tell he didn't like the way Zachary was looking at me as though he were undressing me. Leo stepped in front of Zachary and held out his hand 134 to help me jump into the launch. Zachary followed, close on our heels, jostling Leo and immediately apologizing. Jacky came out of the boathouse and he and Suzy waved as we took off. "It's a perfect day," Leo said. "Water's as smooth as glass. It was rough early this morning when I took a couple out fishing. Vicky, you're saving Monday for me, aren't you?" Zachary smiled his most charming smile, first at me, then at Leo. "It's a good thing you have only one day off a week, pal. I can see you'd want to monopolize Vicky-O otherwise." He put his hand on mine. I was not used to having people compete for me. It felt pleasant, if slightly confusing. It's about half an hour by launch to the mainland-more than twice as quick as the terry. Zachary and Leo did most of the talking. Zachary was trying really hard to be friends, and Leo, being Leo, responded without hesitation. There they were, night and day. Everything that Zachary said and did was calculated, not necessarily in a bad way, but Zachary planned things, like an artist, for effect. And Leo responded like a puppy who's been thrown a stick to retrieve. And I thought, too, that Leo was trying to go more than halfway, to encourage Zachary to begin again, to remove that burden of guilt which Zachary didn't seem to feel but which would have weighed Leo down. It was easy to know what Leo was feeling; there it was, right on the surface. What Zachary was feeling lay deep within, and he didn't often open his doors to friend or stranger. Zachary was a private person but he had a polished facade. Adam, I thought, was equally private, but there was no facade. I leaned back against the seat of the launch and let the 135 135 spray fly by me and the rays of the sun caress me. It was cool on the water and the wind blew my hair and dried the salt spray. It made me feel tingly with life. The dock on the mainland was far busier and more bustling than on the Island. Zachary told Leo we'd be back at eleven o'clock that evening, or shortly thereafter, and then he took my elbow and steered me along the dock, past coils of rope, past clusters of people, workmen in rough clothes, summer people in shorts or suburban-type dresses, to a small red convertible with the top down. "Thought you might like this for a change." He patted it in a proprietary way, as though it were a prize horse. It was a change from the hearse, all right. "It's yours?" "No car rental's apt to have an Alfa Romeo, at least not around here. Talked Pop into it, as a reward for graduating from high school after all these years. Hop in." He opened the door. "We'll drive right to the country club." "I thought the country club was supposed to be wildly exclusive." "So 'tis. But money and connections can do wonders. We have a special membership for as long as we're here. There's an Olympic-size pool, and some pretty fair tennis courts, and Pop says the golf course is one of the better ones. He's off with some cronies he's picked up, making business deals. Won't bother us." The drive to the club was along the shore for a few miles. Then we turned inland in the direction of the city, and drove past the hospital, a large, cold cube, and I thought of Grandfather being rushed there, and Mother sitting in the emergency room and being horrified. Zachary's glance followed mine. "It's a reasonably good hospital as big hospitals go nowadays," he said, "though 136 once I got out of intensive care and into a private room I could have died and no one would have noticed; there was only one nurse and a couple of aides for the whole floor. Stay out of it, Vicky-O." A small chill moved up rny spine. "I intend to." We left the ugliness of the hospital behind us and drove up through green hills. Zachary handled the Alfa Romeo more gently than the hearse, and I didn't have to keep pushing my feet against imaginary brakes. The club was at the crest of a hill, a rambly white building. There were lots of expensive-looking cars parked around, and people with expensive-looking tans against white linen tennis skirts or shorts. Zachary took me into a wide entrance hall, carpeted in pale gold. At a leather-topped desk I was given a day visitor's card by an elegant-looking lady with elaborately dressed lavender hair. A maid in a grey uniform and white apron told me that she'd take me to my dressing room, and I could join my friend at the pool. My dressing room, to which I was given my own key, was a largish square divided into a shower and a place to dress. There was a wide seat across the back, with fluffy white towels in a neat pile. A terry robe hung on a hook. In the shower there was a brand-new cake of soap, a shower cap, and a pair of Japanese thongs. I changed to my bathing suit, which was just a plain old bathing suit, nothing new or elegant suitable to my surroundings. Well, I'd just pretend it was reverse chic. I looked at myself in the mirror and I was not displeased at what I saw, which, as far as mirror gazing is concerned, is a fairly new state of affairs. I'm long, but no longer all angles of sharp knees and elbows. And my reverse-chic 137 bathing suit was black and the sun had brought out the lights in my hair and I had just the right beginnings of a tan-not too much. Good. I went out to the pool. Swimming is something I can do. Between trips to the Island and swimming in the ocean, and our regular summer swimming in the spring-fed Beagle Pond in Thorn- hill, I'm at home in the water-not as at home as Basil, but home enough so that I don't feel self-deprecating or self- conscious. I balanced on my toes on the diving board and plunged in. Zachary was lounging on an inflated rubber raft. He looked pale in his bathing trunks, and not in his element. Not in the least like Adam. He was dabbling his fingers in the water and I swam up to him. "Coming in?" "Not yet. I'm feeling anti-water at the moment." "Why?" I asked stupidly. "I looked to water to bring me beautiful oblivion, and instead I got a bellyful and strained my heart again. So no swimming or tennis or anything strenuous for a while. I meant it when I told your Mrs. Rodney I was going to take care of myself." "I'm glad." Zachary, as ever, was unpredictable. "So you swim, Vicky-O, and I'll admire you. So will everybody else." I turned and swam underwater the length of the pool and then pulled myself up, gasping for air, and walked along the slick wet border of the pool, back to Zachary. He had left the rubber raft and was sitting at a round table with a flowered umbrella to keep off the heat of the sun. There were a number of these umbrellaed tables scat- 138 tered about, and people of all ages were sitting at them, from Suzy's age up, all the way up. Lots of bright clothes and beach hats and bags stuffed with knitting and needlepoint. It was a world of people who didn't have anything to do except whatever they felt like doing. A new world in which I wasn't sure I felt comfortable. I'd felt much more at home and much more myself in John and Adam's lab. Zachary waved at a few people but didn't introduce me to anybody. He beckoned to a white-coated man, saying, "Want something to drink, Vicky?" I was thirsty. "Sure." "How about a rum and Coke?" When I'd first met Zachary I'd lied about my age. Now I didn't feel the need to. I didn't even feel the need to remind him that I'm not quite sixteen. "What I'd really like is some lemonade, real lemonade with freshly squeezed lemons and not too much sugar." He cocked one silky black brow at me, then turned to the waiter. "We'll have two real lemonades. Anything to eat, Vicky? We'll be going in to dinner early because of the concert." "Just the lemonade." The sun was hot, even in the shade under the umbrella. The canvas seemed to intensify the rays. I could feel myself flushing with heat; Zachary, on the contrary, just got whiter, so that his black brows and lashes were startling against his pallor. The waiter brought the lemonade and I sipped it slowly, letting the lovely sour tangy coolness slide down my throat. It was so hot that it was too much effort to talk, and I was surprised at myself for not feeling that I had to make the effort. I just sat there and sipped lemon- 139 ade and watched people clustered about the tables and getting in and out of the pool. And because I didn't feel that I had to struggle for things to say, I was more comfortable with Zachary than I'd ever been before. Time slipped by, as lazy as a bee that came and buzzed about our table and fell into the dregs of Zachary's lemonade. I had another swim to cool off, and then went back to the dressing room to shower and dress. The soap smelled of sandalwood, and there was powder that smelled equally exotic. I took my time and felt luxurious. Zachary was waiting for me in a large room off the dining room, elegant and air-conditioned, with sofas and chairs and low tables set about in groups. There were flowers on all the tables, and a great bouquet in a silver bowl on the marble mantel, reflected back by a great, gilt- framed mirror. The floor was carpeted in something subtly flowery and soft to walk on, and the long French windows had equally subtle flowery curtains. It was, I realized, beautiful as well as expensive taste. The coolness felt marvelous after the heat outdoors. I've never thought of myself as being deprived. On the other hand, I've never been around people who don't have to think about where the next dollar's going to come from. And even if we had that kind of money, Mother and Daddy are both too busy for country clubs and the kind of living Zachary took for granted. He was waiting for me at a small table near one of the windows, where we could look out across the gardens to the golf course. Sprinklers were sending out little fountains of water over the already velvety green lawn. "Our table's reserved for six o'clock." Zachary looked at his watch. "What'll it be, Vicky?" 140 "What'll what be?" Why did I always have to seem stupid in front of Zachary? "What do you want to drink before dinner? I'm on a moderate kick so I'll just have a glass of dry sherry." "I'm on an even more moderate kick. I'll have a Coke with lemon." His eyebrows drew together for a moment, then relaxed. "Added to which you're underage and law-abiding. For your reassurance, I'm twenty, and in this state allowed to have alcohol." He beckoned to a waiter and gave our order. A smiling waitress came over, bearing a silver tray with hors d'oeuvres. "The canapes are so-so. Try the caviar. It's beluga; you can't go too far wrong with that," Zachary advised. Behind the waitress with the silver tray came a man pushing a steam table with a copper rolltop. He swung it open and there were dishes of all kinds of hot hors d'oeuvres. "I like the chicken liver and water chestnuts rolled in bacon." Zachary pointed.