Our Seas of Fear and Love

by Richard Shain Cohen

  As she drove to their house, she thought about the mess it would be. The tiresome and tiring unpacking and putting everything in its place, telling Andrea what to do before she in her – what’s that expression? – “uppity” that’s it – nice word, not too denigrating – decides she’ll just do what she wants. I’ll put her in her place, and when I need her, then I’ll use her. I’ve got to admit she’s not a lazy black like all those southern ones I’ve been reading about. Anyhow, she’s got a useless family, so we’re all she’s got. Oh, my God, she does. No matter.

  When she came to the house, before going to the Hurwitz’s, there were some lights that Gregory had left on. The moon was higher in the sky. A street light near the driveway guided her. She looked at the house, before entering the driveway, admiring its structure, not a Victorian like her in-laws’ but just as spacious, the same number of floors, three. There was a bedroom for each of the girls, though she thought she’d have Kaitlin sleep with Pamela for a year perhaps. Andrea would be on the third.

  When she went in, she was surprised to see some order. Gregory must have gotten someone to put out some of the furniture. The rooms surprised her. All were in place. She let out a joyful scream, “He did it. It’s lovely. I can get used to this house. And we’ll have company. I’ll get to know the people as soon as possible.” She quickly went through the entire house. It was perfectly laid out, the living room across from the large dining room, the center stairway curving upward. It did remind her of the Hurwitz house. It was just as good. That was important. They would have to impress Gregory’s staff and lab help. Perhaps she shouldn’t have caused such a fuss. The children could go to the beach, wade in the water, search for shells. She’d help them. Yes, that would be fun.

  When she showed the children their rooms, they squealed with delight. “But our dolls aren’t here, mommy,” Melinda cried. “Where are our toys?”

  “Well, dear, we have to unpack them. Don’t worry. We’ll get them out tomorrow. O.K.?” She told Andrea, “Why don’t you get them ready for bed?”

  Oh, I’ve got to call their father and his folks. I may run over there.

  Mary answered. She paused, recognizing Deirdre’s voice but asked, “Deirdre?”

  “Yes. Mary? I got here a little while ago. I wanted to surprise Greg.”

  Mary forced brightness to her voice. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I wish I could see the children, but I thought I’d best get going. I’m on duty tomorrow afternoon. Mother hates it when I drive at night, but you know how it is. Perhaps you all could come over before I leave.”

  “Wait a minute.” Deirdre called upstairs. “Andrea, don’t put the children in bed. I’m going to take them to my in-laws’.”

  “They’re already in bed,” she shouted back.

  “Well, get them up and dressed. Mary has to get back to Boston.”

  “Mary. It’s all set. Let me just say hello to Greg, please.”

  “Yup. Here he is. I’ll wait.”

  And so the family settled, all the Hurwitzes together with their progeny, Deirdre thinking of her parents missing all this excitement, the children sleepily rubbing their eyes but happy, Kaitlin whining for her bed. Aaron continually calling the children ‘the girls,’ never using their names. He wanted a grandson and that child was Brigit’s. Later Melinda would tell him, “Grandpa, my name’s Melinda. You call me that, not ‘the girls.’” Aaron laughed, held her tightly, “You win, dear. It’s now Melinda, Pamela, and Kaitlin.” Occasionally he did slip. Once he annoyed Deirdre. “You know, wouldn’t it be nice to have a boy?”

  “Father, them’s all yer gettin.’”

  She thought of her one mistake. Why had she a third? Perhaps to make it up to Gregory for the abortion request; perhaps because she wanted a boy; perhaps because she wanted to love a child as soon as it came from her womb, like other mothers. Was there actually something wrong with her? She knew she was strong, that she could dominate almost anyone she pleased. Or perhaps the war had really done something to her, perhaps because she had fallen in with Étienne and really did feel she had to make it up to Gregory somehow. Whatever it was, Kaitlin was the last child they would ever have.

  As time passed, she did come to know the people of the town well. She joined all the right groups like the Art Museum, the Historical Society, the Preservation Society. She invited all the right people to cocktail parties, especially any politicians who might help with some antique acquisitions. She gathered any of Gregory’s important colleagues. By the early 1960s, Deirdre was well known throughout the state, in cities such as Portland, Augusta, Bangor, Farmington. In Cape Astraea they asked her to run for the City Council but she refused. Aside from her work with museums, she hinted at her wartime exploits, assuring she did not tell what the government did not want revealed as yet, but also measuring the little she told for its social effect.

  It was the 1960s, the time of President John F. Kennedy and soon the Berlin Wall and “Ich bin ein Berliner,” and his national challenge for a mission to the moon after being stunned by Russia’s Sputnik. It was a time of advancing grief and a country deadened by the assassinations of the President, later his brother, Robert, and then Martin Luther King. In Boston, in the latter part of the decade, there was Louise Day Hicks whom Deirdre glorified for her stand against integration and school busing but who saddened Deirdre by Hicks’ losses that decade when she ran for mayor. “The blacks will never learn their place. I don’t care if we are in the north.” Earlier, someone black Gregory knew was not admitted to a movie theater in Maine because of his race. So, before King’s death, the country was to wait for Lyndon Johnson and King. It seemed it was a decade of dying. However, people still had their lives, families, and work to consider.

  Recently Gregory became interested in genetics, because of some of the work being done at the Research Institute. More papers were being published under his direction with a number by him as first author. His work spread so that it influenced other parts of the body beside the liver, such as diagnosis of thyroid cancer. He believed that eventually nuclear medicine would be extremely important, that DNA research would advance. He wanted the laboratories involved in such research.

  Gregory’s and Deirdre’s accomplishments pleased Jocelyn and Aaron, though regarding Deirdre, there was some skepticism. That included Mary who felt as they did. Her relationship with Deirdre would always be cool, and further, in Mary’s mind, the marriage was a mistake; and the discord would never thaw, even after she returned home at the end of her fellowship in gastroenterology and began her own good reputation.

  And so the family settled. Melinda and Pamela were now in school, and that was not too far off for Kaitlin. Andrea was still with them and beloved by the children who began telling her their secrets even as Melinda and Pamela giggled, gossiped, and played or listened to the adults, slowly taking Kaitlin in with them as she grew more talkative and could somewhat run with them. Andrea often took them to the ocean.

  It was early summer. The night before there had been a bad storm, wind, thunder, lightning. The agitated ocean was a turmoil of giant waves, huge, deceptively attractive sprays of white against the rocks.

  The following day, the ocean was still unsettled. Deirdre decided to take the children to the beach to see the water. “Mommy, let's take Andrea with us,” Pamela insisted. Although Deirdre didn't want her, thinking she should have a day with the girls by herself, she gave in when the children insisted.

  Andrea was hesitant. “Mrs. Hurwitz, are you sure you want to go? The water is probably still rough. You know the wind’s still pretty strong.”

  “Yes, we're going. I told them we would. Besides, if we don't go now there'll be crying, screaming.”

  The beach they chose was at a cove lying between Ice Age rocks. Melinda and Pamela ran to the rocks, carefully walking on them, their hands to their mouths, watching and laughing at the waves as they hit and sprayed them. No one noticed that Kaitlin had followed, except Melinda who yelled for her to go back.
Andrea started to chase after her, but Kaitlin had already reached her sisters. “Kaitlin. Kaitlin. Come back.”

  It was then Deirdre who had been talking to another woman, pointing to her children, that she heard Andrea and started after her.

  Kaitlin looked back, laughed. As she did, she slipped, rolling down the wet rock as a huge wave hit where she was and dragged her back. The last Andrea heard was, “Mommy,” as the water grasped her and carried her seaward. “Mom . . .” All, stunned, horrified, watched as she sank. Deirdre, Andrea, Melinda, and Pamela shrieked. Melinda started to go after Kaitlin but stopped, hearing her mother, “Melinda, NO!”

  She noticed a Forest Service agent who had just put his boat in the water, called to him, but he had seen and was trying already to get to Kaitlin. He reached where she had gone under, circled. Kaitlin was gone.

  The grief was unendurable. No one could speak. The only sounds were shrieks, Deirdre and Andrea crying loudly, other women in tears, some soundless in horror.

  “Oh. My God. My five-year-old baby. My baby.” And as she thought how frightened Kaitlin must have been, she began to shake. Andrea, also terrified and shaking, placed her arms about Deirdre, as Melinda and Pamela grasped and pulled at her skirt. In the background the ocean crashed again, again, unrelenting.

  The agent called the police. It was a woman who gently led them toward the patrol car. The questioning would come later.

  Deirdre could barely drive. She called Gregory, her voice trembling, asking him in her crying to come home as soon as possible. All Deirdre could say was that Kaitlin was dead.

  “How did it happen? Wasn’t anyone watching her? Deirdre, where were you?” Realizing he too was in shock and that he had raised his voice, he placed his arms about her, tried to hold the girls at the same time. “I thought Andrea was with them.” If there was to be blame, it would have to be Andrea. She did not mention she had been talking to women and ignored the children. Perhaps she told him the truth. Everyone was in shock. “Andrea,” Gregory asked, “did you see what happened. How? Why?”

  Defensively, still crying, and in a trembling voice, “I was watching, but she slipped away from me. Oh, God. Was it my fault?”

  “Stop that, now. You were doing what you should,” Gregory told her, trying to comfort her.

  Angrily, Deirdre woke momentarily from her grief, and shouted, “She let her go. It’s her fault. She killed our child. I want that woman out of my sight, out of my house.”

  Gregory softly told her, “Deirdre. Stop. Please, dear. It wasn’t Andrea’s fault, no one’s. It happened. My God, it happened.” He, too, was crying. “Please,” drawing it out. “Let’s not fight, turn on one another. It . . . .” and he could not go on. Melinda and Pamela were going from their father to their mother, clinging to Andrea, everyone now sitting in a circle, silent, crying, sobbing.

  Gregory thought to call his parents and his in-laws. It was an entire family in grief. Beautiful Maine for now was terror. There would be a time that Deirdre would, aside from Andrea, even blame Gregory, because of his selfishness, for moving the family to Maine.

  Days later, Kaitlin’s body was found on a shore farther south.

  As in the United States, after the shocks of President Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy, nothing could ever be the same again.

  _______________

  Chapter XII

  The Sea’s Nether Region

  By 1969 the United States was, it appeared, inextricably involved in Viet Nam despite President Richard Nixon's promise later, in 1970, to extricate us by promising withdrawal of 150,000 troops. The country was in a depressed state. Yet, instead of this becoming encouraging news, Nixon announced we would invade Cambodia. Well it bore out earlier words from Mr. Nixon. During the Eisenhower administration, Vice-President Nixon said the United States might have to go to war in Viet Nam. Now here he was talking of withdrawal while invading and bombing Cambodia. The United States was deluged by protests of college students and many Viet Nam veterans who were trying to stop the senseless war in which they had been deployed and despite people treating other homecoming veterans like criminals. Deirdre despised the protesters, while Gregory supported them and had no respect for Nixon. In this atmosphere, whether in the American society or in the Hurwitz home, in May of this year was Kent State, the National Guard inflicting a national wound that could never actually heal.

  Perhaps it is similar to Brigit's heart. She tried to cure the festering wound despite caring deeply for Thomas and being immersed in happiness with her children. She sadly admitted that only Gregory could truly hold her heart. She often thought about him and imagined what it might be living in Maine that had so appealed to her. She was a World War II displaced person, except that Thomas, Robert, and Kathryn had rescued her. Within her was a continual conflict, even a desire to revenge herself on Deirdre, knowing the woman was causing him unhappiness. At times, reverting to the night Deirdre in that alluring dress captivated Gregory, she had seen through the superficiality of the flirtation, the approaching danger, and had done nothing. She had even thought of asking Thomas to move to Maine, even if it meant seeing Gregory and Deirdre together with their children. But could she be seen as following Gregory? At these times, quarreling with herself, she forced remembrance of Thomas’s devotion and that she could do nothing that might hurt her children.

  What she did not know was that Thomas had been in contact with Gregory. They had been friendly in Boston. Gregory was glad when he knew Brigit and he would marry. There may have been some conscience involved. He was quite aware of the pain he caused. He never recovered from how he left Brigit, though he told himself he loved Deirdre, yet finally admitted never having been in love with his wife. There were times also when he questioned her love for him. It often seemed they were drawing apart. The loss of Kaitlin affected them greatly. At times, after a dispute, silently he would blame her for the death. They were quarreling more. He was also correct that she was withdrawing. When they prepared for bed at night and he felt the twinge of movement in his testicles and penis and the desire it aroused, she would sense this or he would tell her. She would show herself sensually but then just get in bed and ignore him or rather than allow him to penetrate her would use her hand, occasionally her mouth. Then there were nights she would feel a need and turn to him, drawing him inside her but after, just turn away, sometimes partially satisfied, rarely fulfilled. She tried to imagine she was with someone else. She wanted someone else. It was always the same. Gregory was growing tiresome. He was immersed in his research and hospital politics, had become president of an association and traveled more. It was then she decided she would travel more frequently to Europe with Étienne, but before that she would have a “sweet sixteen” party for Melinda. Thus 1969 became a crucial year with 1970 hovering with not only Cambodia but a drifting ice floe.

  She invited politicians who could help her, the wealthier people in the community. Melinda complained. She did not want what she knew her mother considered a ‘coming out party.’ Most of her friends never had one or had to endure its distastefulness.

  “Dad, I don’t want to be a show piece.” He smiled, though he took her seriously. She was becoming as much a beauty as her mother. In fact, both girls were tall, attractive, and becoming aware of their sexuality and how to use it, how to flirt. If only, he would think, neither Melinda nor Pamela would become a twin to Deirdre. Yet, and he knew it, they were unlike Deirdre, for they were more like him, wanting to accomplish something satisfying, like him or their Aunt Mary.

  “Mom just wants this party for herself, glorifying herself. She’s using me. I hate it. I’m telling you, dad, I won’t be here.”

  “Now don’t overreact. Your mother loves you and wants people to see and get to know you. C’mon my beauty, settle down and just have a good time.”

  Melinda sneered. “Dad, if I thought this was your idea and wanted it, I might feel differently. You know very well, she’s up to her usual tricks. I sometimes wo
nder if she cares what Pamela or I think.” She looked at her father, seeing the love in his face, her charming and loveable dad. “Dad, don’t you think Pamela and I know what’s happening at home, that we feel it?”

  Gregory turned away and mumbled, but she heard, “Yes. I know you both are aware.”

  In the meantime, Gregory and Thomas continued their correspondence. In one letter Thomas wrote, “Brigit liked Maine so much when she visited.” It hurt Thomas to write that, but he had to say it even as he feared losing Brigit to Gregory. “So I’ve been thinking about it. What are the chances of someone new in my specialty, perhaps in Portland?” Would he be throwing Brigit at her former love? Would he lose her? He started to throw away the letter, but he wanted Brigit happy as she always seemed to be. Besides, he had spent time in Maine as a boy, and he did enjoy it. His family had a camp at Embden, not far from the Hurwitz camp. The families were friendly. One time as a teen-ager, sitting by a stream, he told himself he would live in this state.

  He thought a while about his youth, of his marriage and his children, how good it had all been. Brigit had made her commitment to him and the children. That would last, because that is the woman she was. He rewrote the letter and sent it.

  He did surprise Gregory who wondered why he would give up a good practice in Boston and suddenly move. Gregory thought back to their boyhood and the wandering through the woods together on the opposite side of the lake where there were no cottages, of fishing and the excitement when he caught his first salmon while he and Thomas were with Aaron. Brigit? Oh, God, how I never should have left her, married her and my daughters would be hers, someone they would always love and respect. They are growing apart from Deirdre, just as she seems to be leaving me behind in search of something more than I can give or want to. To hell with it. That fellow who just retired. Perhaps the practice would want Thomas. They’d be fools not to. I’ll write him.