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point. For an eight-yearold to walk into church and see his father and-'
'Stop,' Olivia commanded. 'This does no good.'
Camilla said, 'You've taught me, you two and Mac, that I can't blame my own
fears and problems on my parents. I have some say in how I behave. By and
large,
Mac's done pretty well. He's a brilliant teacher. His students adore him.
He's
written a couple of wonderful articles, and he's right, he does need to do a
book. What he emphasizes most is mercy, the kind you talked about, Mama,
William
Langland's. We have to be merciful to ourselves before we can be merciful to
anybody else.' Then she laughed, harshly, like a seagull. 'I still do not
feel
very merciful toward Grange or Harriet.'
'Or Grange's ex-wife, for not having given him your mother's letter?'
Camilla leapt up as she heard Taxi scream. She ran into the house, letting
the
screened door slam behind her, and went up the stairs two at a time. Taxi was
sitting up in bed, his eyes closed, screaming. Frankie was struggling out of
sleep. Camilla sat down by Taxi and held him tight, pressing his thin body
against hers, and the screams stopped.
Frankie said calmly, 'Taxi had a nightmare.'
'I know, darling,' Camilla said. 'He's over it now. Go back to sleep.' Her
body
moved rhythmically, rocking Taxi. 'Where you bin, Mommy?' he asked.
'Sitting on the porch with Mama and Papa.' 'Are you coming to bed soon?'
'Very soon.' She gently put Taxi down in the bed, covering him with the sheet
and a light cotton blanket. If she got to him in time he did not fully wake
up,
and he would not re member the nightmare in the morning. She did not know
whether or not this oblivion was the best thing for him. What good would it
do
him to remember whatever horror his sleep
A Live Coal in the Sea,269
ing brain was showing him? Grange and Harriet had not actively abused him.
The
nurse they had for him had told Camilla and Mac that the boy was thin because
they had a hard time finding food he would or could eat. They lavished
attention
on him when they were with him. And presents. Toys, expensive toys. They did
not
discipline him, the nurse said. That was left to her, and it was apparent
that
the Granges wanted as little as possible. Mrs. Grange had talked about
letting
children express themselves, not repressing them. The nurse, herself, did not
like a whiny child.
'I'm the fourth to have this job,' she said. 'I learned quickly that if I
wanted
to keep it I had to be softer with Tommy than I thought was good for him.'
Frankie said, 'Mommy-' 'Yes, darling?'
'Sometimes Taxi doesn't hear when I call him. Then if I say Tommy he hears,
but
he gets mad at me.'
'It's difficult to have your name changed.' Camilla kept her voice level.
'Why did they call him Tommy?'
'Perhaps they thought Tommy was an easier name.' 'Taxi's easy.'
'For us, because that's how we've always known him.' 'Mommy, he gets so mad,
so
mad. He hurts me.'
Camilla moved from Taxi's bed to Frankie's, took the little girl in her arms.
'I
know. It's hard to understand. But when he feels secure again, he won't lose
control of himself.'
When would he feel secure?, Mac returned, and Camilla and the children flew
back
to New York.
Mac put his arms around her as they were undressing, getting ready for bed.
'I'm
sorry.'
For a moment she stiffened in his arms. He had never apologized before.
Madeleine L'Engle»,170
'Darling, darling, I'm so sorry. I left you. I walked out on it all and left
you. I'm not strong. I don't know how I'm going to manage.'
Now her arms were around him, too. 'We have to take it day by day.'
'He's so changed. He's not our son.' 'Yes. He is. No matter what happens.'
'He's
your brother.'
'I'm his mother.'
'You're blood relations. I can't stand what he's doing to us, to Frankie.'
'I can't stand it either. But we have to.'
'Oh, God,' Mac moaned, 'why do I think it ought to be easy? Why do I think
everything ought to be all right?V 'Because that's what we all want.'
'But that isn't how life is. I know that. I preach that. No promises of
rewards
if we're good, or punishments if we're bad. No promises, except that it
matters.
Cosmically.'
They sat on the side of the bed, still holding each other. 'Cosmically,'
Camilla
agreed, 'to the stars in their courses.' 'The stars aren't very communicative
about it,' Mac said, and pulled her down onto the bed.
'The one time I would like a cigarette,' he said later, 'is now.'
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