Strong Medicine (62 page)

171 take my pilgrimage. " As she looked ahead, beyond the bow of the boat,

an incongruous thought intruded: The Memorial was unlike what she had

expected Instead, it resembled a long white railway boxcar, deflated in the

middle.

The commentary again: "The architect's words: 'The form, wherein the

structure sags in the center but stands strong and vigorous at the ends,

expresses initial defeat and ultimate victory' . . . Had the architect

thought of that before or after? But either way, it didn't matter. The ship

was what mattered, and now its shape was becoming visible-incredibly, only

afewfeet below the surface of the gray-green water.

". . . and ~he Memorial spans the sunken battleship."

Myfathers ship. His home when he was awayfrom home, and where he died . .

. when I was ten years old, five thousand miles away in Philadelphia.

Andrew reached out, took Celia's hand and held it. Neither spoke. Among all

the passengers on the boat there seemed a constraint, a quietness, as if

common sensibilities were shared.

The coxswain laid them neatly alongside a pontoon dock at the Memorial

entrance. The woman sailor secured the moorings, and the Jordan family,

along with others, disembarked. As they moved inward, there was no longer

movement beneath their feet since the Memorial rested on pilings driven

into the harbor bottom. No part of it touched the ship.

Near the Memorial's center, Celia, Andrew and Lisa stood at an

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opening in the concrete structure gazing downward at the main deck of the

Arizona, now clearly visible, awesome in its closeness.

Somewhere beneath us are myfather's bones, or what remains of them. I

wonder how he died. Was it swift and merciful, or some other, awful way?

Oh, how I hope it was the first!

Bruce, who had moved away, returned to them. He said quietly, "I've found

Grandfather's name. I'll show you." His parents and sister followed

until, standing beside many others, all subdued, they faced a marble

wall, a sea of names and ranks.

In that fierce few minutes of the Japanese attack, 1, 177 had died on the

Arizona alone. Later it had proved impossible to raise the ship which

became-for more than a thousand of the dead-theirfinal grave.

An inscription read:

TO THEI MEMORY OF THE GALLANT MEN

HERE ENTOMBED

Bruce pointed. "There, Mom."

W F DE GREY CEM

They stood respectfully, each with individual thoughts; then it was Celia

who led the way back to where they had been earlier, looking down on the

sunken hull from which the superstructure had long since been removed.

The closeness of it fascinated her. While they watched, a bubble of oil

rose from somewhere far below. The oil spread itself, like a petal on the

water's surface. A few minutes later, eerily, the process was repeated.

"Those oil bubbles are from what's left in fuel tanks," Bruce explained.

"They've been coming up like that since the ship went down. No one knows

how long the oil will last, but it could be another twenty years."

Celia reached out to touch her son.

This is my son, your grandson. He is explaining to me about your ship.

"I wish I could have known Grandfather," Lisa said.

Celia was about to speak when suddenly, without warning, her emotional

defenses wavered and collapsed. It was as if Lisa's simple, moving remark

was the last iota added to a barely balanced scale before it tipped.

Grief and sadness overwhelmed Celia-grief for the father she had known

so briefly, but had loved and whose memory these poignant moments at

Pearl Harbor had brought

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flooding back; memories of her mother who had died ten years ago this

month; and, combining with those older griefs revived, Celia's nearer

sorrow from her own failure, her great misjudgment as it now appeared, the

recent ignominious end to her career. The last thought had, for six months

or more, been resolutely thrust away. Now, like dues delayed but later to

be paid, it added to the emotion and she broke. Oblivious to all else, she

wept.

Seeing what was happening, Andrew moved toward her, but Lisa and Bruce

were faster. Both children embraced their mother, comforting her, and

unashamedly were crying too.

Andrew, gently, put his arms around them all.

The family assembled for dinner that night in the Maile Room of the

Kahala Hilton. On sitting down, Celia's first words were, "Andrew dear,

I would like us to have champagne."

"Of course." Beckoning a sommelier, Andrew ordered Taittinger, which lie

knew to be his wife's favorite, then told her, "You look radiant

tonight."

"It's how I feel," she responded, beaming at them all.

Since this morning, little had been said about their excursion to Pearl

Harbor. On the Memorial during the few minutes of Celia's breakdown,

other people nearby had considerately looked away, and Andrew sensed that

the Arizona setting, which evoked sad, sometimes tragic memories in so

many who went there, had seen frequent and similar scenes of grief.

Through most of the afternoon Celia slept, then later had gone shopping

in one of the hotel stores, buying herself a stunning redand-white long

dress, Hawaiian style. She was wearing it now.

"When you get tired of that dress, Mom," Lisa said admiringly, "I'll be

glad to take it over."

At that moment the champagne arrived. When it was poured, Celia raised

her glass and said, "To you alV-I love you dearly, and thank you! I want

you to know that I shall never forget what happened today, and your

comfort and understanding. But you should also know that now I am over

it. In a way, I suppose, it was a cleansing process, a-what's that word?"

"Catharsis," Bruce said. "Actually it's Greek and means purification.

Aristotle used it to . . ."

"Oh, cool it!" Lisa, leaning across the table, slapped her brother's

hand. "Sometimes you're too muchl"

Andrew laughed and the others joined in, including Bruce.

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"Go on, Mom," Lisa urged.

"Well," Celia said, "I've decided it's time to stop feeling sorry for

myself, and to put my life back together. It's been a wonderful holiday,

the finest ever, but it will be over in two more days." She regarded

Andrew fondly. "I imagi~e you're ready to get back into practice, "

He nodded. "Ready and keen."

"I can understand it," Celia said, "because I feel the same way. So I

won't stay unemployed. I intend to find work."

Bruce asked, "What will you do?"

Celia sipped her champagne before answering. "I've thought a lot about

it, and asked myself questions, and come up each time with the same

answer: The pharmaceutical business is what I know best, so it makes

sense that I should stay in it."

Andrew assured her, "Yes, it does."

"Could you go back to Felding-Roth?" It was Lisa's question.

Her mother shook her head. "I burned my bridges. I'm sure there's no way

Felding-Roth would have me now, even if I wanted it. No, I'll try other

companies."

"If some of them don't jump and grab you, they need their business acumen

examined," Andrew said. "Have you considered which ones?"

"Yes." Celia went on thoughtfully, "There's one company, above all

others, which I've admired. It's Merck. If you were to look for a

'Rolls-Royce' of the drug industry, Merck's the one. So I shall apply

there first. "

"And after that?"

"I like SmithKline, also Upjohn. Both are companies I'd be proud to work

for. After that, if it's needed, I'll make a longer list."

"I predict you won't have to." Andrew raised his glass. "Here's to the

lucky company that gets Celia Jordan!"

Later, over dinner, Bruce asked, "What do we do tomorrow?"

"Since it's our last full day in Hawaii," Celia suggested, "how about a

lazy time on the beach?"

They agreed that a lazy day was what they wanted most.

321,

3

In the bedroom of the Jordans' suite, a few minutes before 6 A.m., a

bedside telephone rang stridently. The ringing stopped, then began again.

Celia was sleeping soundly. Beside her, Andrew, crossing the boundary

from sleep to wakefulness, stirred at the phone's insistence.

The night before, on going to bed, they had left the sliding glass doors

to a balcony open, admitting a soft breeze and the murmur of the sea.

Now, outside in the grayness of pre-dawn, objects were becoming

visible-as if a stage director were going slowly from black, lighting a

new scene. In another fifteen minutes the sun would begin ascending over

the horizon.

Andrew sat up, awake, the phone having penetrated his consciousness. He

reached out to answer it.

Celia stirred and asked sleepily, "What's the time?"

"Too damned early!" Andrew said into the phone, "Yes-what is it?"

"I have a person-to-person call for Mrs. Celia Jordan." An operator's

voice.

"Who's calling her?"

A different female voice came on the line. "Mr. Seth Feingold of

Felding-Roth, New Jersey."

"Does Mr. Feingold know what time it is out here?"

"Yes, sir. He does."

Celia was sitting upright, awake now also. "Is it Seth?" When Andrew

nodded, she said, "I'll take it."

He handed her the phone. After another operator exchange, Celia heard the

elderly comptroller's voice. "Is that you, Celia?"

"Yes, it is."

"I've just been told we awakened you, and I apologize. But it's noon

here. We simply couldn't wait any longer."

She said, puzzled, "Who is 'we'? And wait longer for what?"

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"Celia, what I have to tell you is exceedingly important. Please listen

carefully."

Feingold's voice sounded strained. She told him, "Go ahead."

"I'm calling you on behalf of the board of directors, and at the board's

request. I am instructed, firstly, to inform you that when you resigned-for

reasons which we all know-you were right, and everyone else . . ." The

voice faltered, then continued, "All the rest of us were wrong."

She wondered, with bewilderment, whether she was hearing correctly, or was

truly awake. "Seth, I don't understand. You can't be speaking about

Montayne."

:'Unfortunately, I am."

'But from what I've read and heard, Montayne is a spectacular success." She

remembered the positive report, relayed only yesterday by Andrew, from

Tano, the Felding-Roth Hawaii manager.

"That's what we all thought, up to just a short time ago. But everything

has changed-a sudden change. And now we have a terrible situation here."

"Wait a moment, Please."

Covering the phone mouthpiece, she told Andrew, "Something important has

happened. I'm not sure what. But listen on the extension."

There was one in the bathroom. Celia waited while Andrew went to it, then

said, "Seth, go on."

"What I just told you was the first thing, Celia. The second is this: The

board wants you to come back."

Still, she could scarcely believe what she was hearing. After a pause she