Our Seas of Fear and Love

by Richard Shain Cohen

  When the year came to an end, it was still closer to the election, the Truman, Dewey tangle. Gregory enjoyed watching the conventions but could not stand the spite that came through in speeches. He was to have a short time off after the voting that would allow him to see Brigit.

  Gregory voted absentee for Truman who had also been his commander-in-chief and whose honesty he appreciated. Then there was the foolishness of the Chicago Tribune announcing Dewey’s victory and Harry Truman never believing he would lose. He didn’t.

  There had been the beginning of the Berlin Airlift of which most Americans were proud. It would take a man like Truman to see that through, World War II planes remodeled and flyable, daring the Russians and making the Russians look like the barbarians Gregory thought they were. His brother James had met up with the Russians and despised them. He often spoke of their gruffness and lack of manners, their officiousness.

  Then there was Truman’s courage going against Marshall and recognizing Israel. Why not a vote for this courageous, clear-sighted man, despite his lack of Hyde Park manners?

  “Yes, we were fortunate to have had Commander in Chiefs FDR and Truman,” Gregory throughout the election time repeated to himself and in arguments with those who wanted Dewey. It was then he learned there would come a day when as a doctor he would have to be cautious when it came to discussions of politics.

  Thank goodness Brigit and her family supported Truman. I can’t wait to get there. Will we get along? Why not? What is her world like? How will I take to it?

  ~

  Gregory took a plane to El Paso from where Brigit had told him they would drive to her home. He landed late in the afternoon. Brigit watching the plane land became more excited. She had fussed in the morning with her hair and what she would wear, bothered Maureen with what Maureen liked. Finally, in the afternoon, after sitting and putting on her makeup and spraying her perfume lightly and placing some on her wrist, she chose a reddish-green dress that came just below her knees and that matched her hair and eyes as well as possible. She brushed at her hair that came just above her shoulders thinking how he liked her hair, looked first at her eyes, to her breasts that were emphasized by her cinched waist and then, as always looked at her hips and legs. She was proud of her looks and her figure. She wore an expensive perfume that he had always liked.

  As she stood at the gate waiting, she imagined him already with his arms about her, placing his face in her hair and smelling the scent of her. She also had a surprise for him.

  The plane came over desert that Gregory had never seen, dropped below mountains that surrounded the city, noticing a road that curved down into the valley. The plane landed smoothly. Impatiently he waited for the passengers in front of him, finally walked down the stairs. When he saw her waving, his heart beat faster.

  They were kissing unashamedly, hugging. He moved back for a moment to look at her. “My Brigit. You’re beautiful. I thought coming from Chicago the plane was taking too long.” He moved closer to her again, kissed her below her ear, wanting to inhale her scent as though he had forgotten it and forever wanted to remember. After he got his baggage, she told him she was going to take him to eat. “You are somewhat hungry, aren’t you?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Well, by the time we get to Las Cruces you’ll be more so.”

  They drove northward through the desert and into the small town. She laughed. “People think of this as Billy the Kid country. All I can think of is home. They drove by the jail in Old Mesilla. “That’s where he’s supposed to have been kept and then broke out of. Exciting, huh?”

  “Well, I’ve always liked Westerns but never had any sympathy for him. Forget all that. I can’t realize I’m sitting beside you. I want to grab you to make sure you’re real.” He placed his hand on her arm. She felt the enjoyable pleasure of his touch, the flowing of desire. She drove into a side street, looked to see if there was anyone, and stopped the car, moved toward him, placed her hand on his face, turned it toward her and kissed him, placing her tongue in his mouth, holding him tightly.” She let go. “We can’t do this where people will see us and who probably know me.” She smiled. “Are you excited?” She placed her hand at his zipper, smiled at what she felt, moved back to the steering wheel. “I’ve teased you enough. C’mon. I’m taking you to a Mexican restaurant. You have to experience the Southwest.”

  While she had been talking he was looking upward toward the mountains. What’s up there?”

  “The Organ Mountains is what you’ve been looking at. And up within them is Cloudcroft. I intend to take you up there. It’s lovely. You’ll think you’re back in New England. The woods are filled with aspen trees, ponderosa pine, oak. I know you’ll think of birch when you see the aspen. People build cottages there or houses. I won’t say more.

  “Oops. Here’s the restaurant.”

  She ordered beef fajitas with black beans. To comfort him, she ordered tea. Before the food arrived, the tan-skinned waitress brought them salsa and tortilla chips.

  “Now, my dear, take a chip and dip it in the salsa. Careful, don’t put too much on.”

  He did as she told him, bit, and screwed up his face. “My God, what are you trying to do to me?” His mouth burned.

  She smiled. “I’m getting you accustomed to the great Southwest. After all, I may want to lure you here to practice.”

  “This is a lure? A fish would spit it out. What’s the meal like?”

  “Listen, child. Eat slowly and enjoy the meat, beans and guacamole. I swear you’ll like it.”

  When the meal came, she gave him instructions, watched as he cautiously picked through the beans and the meat. “Brigit. I swear you’re trying to kill me.”

  “And I swear, just eat the meal, and you’ll become a lover of Mexican food and miss it when you go back home. Besides, you’ll remember the meal and me. Oh, maybe not with love, but love will take over.”

  As they left the restaurant, and he was looking about at the town and the people, he listened to the Spanish, and looked at the women, many very attractive, many with bodies or faces quite ordinary, people like any others of the great white race. In fact, the mixture of Mexican (for that is what they were called even though so many were born here, were here so long before the land became part of the United States) and whites fascinated him.

  “Stop looking at all the women. I’m here.” She pulled on his arm that she was holding as they walked to the car.

  “I won’t ever forget you’re with me. I’m tantalized by the difference,”

  She smiled. “I expected you to be. There’s so much to see. The Indian culture, their art work, the Mexican, our own. I love it here, and actually wish sometimes that when we marry we’d come to live here. But I know where you’re headed. It’s not just that you want to be in Boston and Maine. It’s the work you told me in a letter you think you may want to do. You won’t be able to do that here. When my dad is better or close, I’ll return to be with you. It’s horrible.”

  When they got in the car, she told him. “Kiss me. I don’t care who sees us.” He did and they held their lips together. When they parted, she continued, “I can’t stay here when you are there. I have to be with you. I’m shameless.”

  “No you aren’t. You’re honest and know I want you with me.”

  When they came to the ranch, she drove along a short road leading to the adobe house. It was two stories and spread widely along the land. Beyond it lay land, mostly with alfalfa. Beyond that would be the cotton. But his attention was on the house. He imagined Brigit growing up here and playing with her sisters. Inside, was an entrance hall where Maureen met them. The ceiling was beamed, as were other rooms. The furniture was as one would find in many eastern homes. There were drapes and curtains in the rooms he could see.

  Maureen smiled, pleased that he looked as Brigit had described him. Yet, she was the wary mother. She was attracted to him, as was he to her. The resemblance between Brigit and Maureen amazed and pleased him. She held out h
er hand, not as neatly manicured as was Brigit’s. But then, Brigit kept her nails as she usually had since nursing school.

  “We’re happy to have you, Gregory. Obviously, we keep hearing about you. I hope you won’t mind but I invited my daughters and their families for supper. I suppose I could have waited, but I thought, let’s have you meet the whole family except for Anne, Sister Angelina, and then we can be alone for the few days you’re here. Now come. I’ll take you to meet Brigit’s father. Manuel will take care of your luggage.”

  They went to the next floor and her parents’ room. In the bed, the former well-built man lay weak and pale, his body thinner. It was something to which Maureen and the daughters had had to become accustomed. He was still recovering from the surgery of a month ago when they removed the pancreas and, for safety, a few lymph nodes. He had expected to be dead by now. With Brigit’s care, he had become more comfortable, less scared of his future of wondering what the family would be without him, in what ways they would miss him. He felt good they would be left well off. The ranch was a successful venture. He knew Maureen was strong and could run the business and get the help she needed. Then there were also his sons-in-law.

  Now here he was facing a new stranger who would take his daughter to a Christian-Jewish home. Jewish. He was raised Jewish. How different was he?

  Brigit and Gregory followed Maureen into the room.

  “Luke. Here’s Brigit’s Gregory.” She forced a smile when she looked at her husband whose face scared her. She still wondered whether he would recover, what she would do without him. She continually imagined herself alone in that bed. If anything happened to him, she would have it thrown out of the house. She shook her head, brought herself to reality and her daughter and probable new son-in-law. She had set chairs near the bed so they could talk.

  “Father. This is Gregory.”

  Luke raised his arm to give his hand, his eyes still able to analyze a person. He watched Gregory as he took Luke’s weak shake. He liked the certainty he saw in Gregory, his lack of hesitance in taking his hand. Then Luke thought, But he’s a medical student and should be used to seeing dead, dying, recovering sick. Yet, he was aware that this was a man who had seen war, whom his daughter had helped recover and who now was going to join her in a profession he had finally come to admire while in the hospital, except for that one radiological mistake.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Donovan,” Gregory said before Luke could speak. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  “Me too. What do you think of our part of the country?”

  “Well, I already know the food can kill me.”

  Luke laughed weakly. “She said she was going to do that to you.” Then he looked more closely at Gregory, then at Brigit. Is he good enough for my elegant daughter? They are both handsome. But it’s not just looks, Luke. Yeah, I know all about his family. He’ll look at us like what we are, just a bunch of farmers. He knew, though, that Brigit had already met his family and that they liked her. She had told him they were good people, no fuss about them, no pretenses. They were just who they were and that they accepted her. She had told him how Jocelyn treated her like her own daughter, how good Mary and Aaron had been to her.

  “Tell me something, Gregory. Do you adhere to your religion?” It was typical Luke.

  Brigit’s and Maureen’s faces colored, Brigit’s heart beating harder than it had been anticipating the introductions. Brigit pulled on her mother’s arm. Maureen looked at her, shook her head negatively and started to put her finger to her lip and stopped herself. He would have said it at some point anyhow. Might as well be now.

  His remark made no visible impression on Gregory. Luke was facing a future son-in-law who was certain of himself. “I was raised Jewish. I’m sure you’ve heard of Bar Mitzvah. Well, I was. If you want to know or are uncertain of what your Brigit and I will do with children, I don’t know. That’s up to us. My Catholic mother brought up five children in the Jewish religion because she loved it. I don’t know what the future will be any more than you.” Gregory’s voice was soft and firm. It seemed to Brigit that he had thought about this happening anyhow. In fact, she started to smile and tried to hide it, thinking of his reaction to the Mexican food. It may have burned, but he could accept and smile and joke.

  “I see,” Luke answered. “And what if my wife and I object?”

  “I don’t think you will. I know you questioned Brigit going with me, but you accepted that. I know you are a man of strong opinions. I know you want to find out more about me. You should. But I won’t back down from Brigit or what you may not like. I want your acceptance, yours and Mrs. Donovan’s.” Gregory stopped, looking more intensely at the sick man, wondering whether he had said too much, whether he had upset him. Gregory thought, What a terrible start.

  Luke showed no emotion, then spoke. “You love my daughter. You make a good- looking couple. That’s not all there is to it, as you know.” He smiled. “You know, Gregory, we Southwesterners always have to take the measure of a man.”

  “Isn’t that true for everyone anywhere.”

  “Are you upset?”

  Firmly, “No.” He paused. “In fact, I expected it but not just so soon; Brigit told me how important your religion is to you. You have a daughter who’s a nun. Do you think that bothers me? Don’t forget what you know about my family. One day we’ll all meet, I hope. When you are better and strong enough, I hope you’ll come visit us and see how and where I live.”

  “What are you all going to do here?”

  Brigit interrupted. “Dad. He’s only here a few days. If we can, we’ll go up to Albuquerque. And tomorrow afternoon, I’m taking him to Cloudcroft. We’ll camp over night – or maybe the other way around.”

  Luke and Maureen looked at one another. Maureen knew they had already been sleeping together, could see it in her daughter. Maureen tried to keep her husband quiet by looking sternly at him.

  “Alone? The two of you?”

  “Yes, dad,”

  He shook his head. “You’ve already forgotten what the nuns taught you.”

  Again Brigit’s face colored, this time with anger. “I’m a woman, dad. I think I know how to take care of myself.” She calmed a little and almost said, “I’m not the virgin Mary.” She looked at her mother, pleading for her to stop him.

  Maureen saw her. “Luke, stop now. She’s a grown woman, and she can do what she wants. You think they’re going to take the family with them wherever they go? Be pleasant.”

  “I am. I just have to ask questions. Nope. She’s a grown woman. Any man can see that, even her father.” He started to say something about pregnancy but stopped. Even if that happened, she would always be my daughter. Besides, she’s a good person and she wouldn’t be loose. Calm down and be a good host. I never knew a Jew, don’t know a damn thing about them except what I’ve heard, and that’s not comforting. But I like that guy. I like his calm sureness. Probably would be good on the ranch.

  That last thought was one of resignation and acceptance. He looked at Maureen. Women know about women, but why the hell should I know what she does? It’s none of my business or is it?

  ~

  The dinner went well. Ellen and Marie came in excitedly and didn’t hesitate hugging Gregory. Their husbands smiled, held back until the women finished their opening chatter, and welcomed Greg with smiles.

  Maureen as always, despite company, first served what food Luke could eat to make certain he ate and drank water. After that evening ritual, she went to her family.

  It was a large dining room with beamed ceilings and large furniture. Celestina, the maid, served the meal during which questions went back and forth across around the table. What did Gregory think so far of this country so new to him, what medical school was like, what his parents were like, even though they had heard it from Brigit? Then came the usual, “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

  There was a silence when Ellen’s husband asked, “What do Jews do when
they pray?”

  Daniel stunned Maureen who looked at him thinking of what she would like to say but held back. Why don’t you find out for yourself? You fool. Insulting Brigit and Gregory.

  Brigit started to answer but Gregory stopped her. “We pray like anyone else with our own ancient customs, depending what we consider ourselves, Orthodox, Conservative, Reform. Do you believe in God?” Before Daniel could answer, Gregory told him, “I sometimes do and sometimes don’t believe in God. My mother who’s Catholic, by the way, believes in God. My father and sister – they’re Jews, you know, believe in God. In fact, as I recall, Jesus was a Jew. Do you know much about his life? I should think so. Do you go to church? I assume so. Do I care? No. You worship as you please, and I’ll do the same. You know, we fought a war for religious freedom and just plain freedom. You recall that?” Gregory was getting truly angry. He felt Brigit grasp his thigh under the table.

  “Let’s stop this,” Maureen interrupted. “I won’t have this at my table, have a meal ruined, a guest insulted – especially if he’s a future son-in-law. We are a family. Have you forgotten, Daniel?”

  “I’m sorry, mother. I wasn’t trying to start an argument. I was just curious.” He looked at Gregory and Brigit. “I apologize if I insulted anyone.”

  “Forget it, Daniel. I admit I was getting a little hot under the collar. Let’s just accept one another as we are. We may or may not like each other, but we’ll find out soon enough. But for Brigit and her parents and all of you, I’ll always be there for you.” He chuckled. “At least that’s what I intend.”

  Everyone settled and the chatter resumed. Yet, Brigit and Gregory, before they went to their rooms, sat and talked some about it. “Greg, they’re not anti-Semitic. They’re perhaps ignorant, but wasn’t I until you taught me and took me to Maine?”