Chapter Five #2
Jamie often half-jokingly complained that I loved art more than I could possibly love him. It was true that when I was working, I didn’t even realize he was there. After I said “What?” five or so times, he usually slipped away.
When many of his friends went on to colleges, trade schools, and the military, Jamie had begun that serious work with his father, who had acquired the three additional fishing boats.
Jamie was totally in charge of the three and very proud of it as well.
He never stopped reminding me this was all part of his deal with his father and his plan for us.
One night when Daddy went on one of his frequent business tips, Jamie came to have dinner with Grandfather and me.
Lately Grandfather brought work home, too, but it seemed to me he did that to show me what he and the company were doing.
He liked having Jamie as an audience, too.
I didn’t know how many times Grandfather had said, “This isn’t brain surgery.
Your mother helped with this; you can get into it, too. ”
I did some of the accounting Mommy had done. Jamie thought that was something I should be proud of doing: “Just like me, you’re becoming an important part of your family business.”
“My father hasn’t said anything about it. He looks just as annoyed as he did when my mother was doing it.”
“I couldn’t tell,” Jamie said, smiling. “To me, he always looks annoyed.”
Maybe laughter was the best response.
Our conversation inevitably led to talking about our future, our Birdlane home, and our family.
Although Jamie grew more and more excited about it, I had this strange feeling, almost a frightening feeling, building in my heart.
Jamie’s vision of me seemed far too simple.
I respected the Birdie women like Jamie’s mother, women who were dedicated to their husbands and families, women who kept their homes running and managed a good part of their daily lives, freeing the men to concentrate almost solely on their fishing businesses and enjoying the companionship.
I kept looking longingly at that horizon, unable to stop the feeling that there was something more for me out there, something bigger, something that would complete me. Could I have both? Surely I loved Jamie.
Daddy was contradictory when it came to Jamie’s family and those like them.
Although he still often ridiculed and belittled the fishermen of Birdlane, he was just as obnoxious when it came to my decision to pursue a career in art by attending the College of the Atlantic in Bar Harbor.
He also thought Grandfather’s explaining everything to me about the family business was a waste of time.
“Your mother was good at accounting; that’s about it when it comes to the Baxter company,” he uttered once after Grandfather explained how he dealt with restaurant corporations with lobster specialties.
“The only thing she could cook was the books.” He usually laughed at his own jokes, no matter at whose expense.
“What can you cook? You’d burn tea,” I told him. I saw him wince, but he didn’t snap back as usual.
I don’t think he and I were ever as close as most fathers and their daughters and sons.
He was less inclined to offer compliments and soft, loving remarks than he was to offer criticism and give me an order, always claiming he was trying to make me a better Baxter.
Now that I knew the truth about his identity, those sorts of comments from him had less and less impact.
Truthfully, however, he was Melville Baxter more than he was my father.
Without revealing the secret Grandfather and I shared, I explained my feelings about Daddy to Jamie one night after dinner in late April.
We took a walk to our favorite spot at the Crest, the oak tree toward the rear of the mansion.
I brought a blanket. There wasn’t a sea view here, but it was very private, tucked away at the southeast corner of the property.
“You look tired tonight,” I said when we were sprawled on the blanket.
“I’m working practically two shifts to complete the deal with my father,” he said.
I studied him a moment. He looked so much more mature.
Since he had graduated and begun this work program with his father, all his teenage characteristics and thoughts had drifted off, not that he wasn’t always one of the most serious and responsible young men I knew at school.
I guess I can marry Jamie and raise a family here, I thought, but when I turned and looked into the darkness, I couldn’t help feeling that a commitment like that would surely take the fire out of my dreams. Maybe Mommy hadn’t realized hers, but I know she wanted me to realize mine.
It was hard and would be hard to explain to Jamie.
His goals were so real, so attainable. Mine were so “out there,” so elusive, and so dependent on a lucky moment. Mr. Angelo had made that clear to me.
“It’s not that you get lucky and that’s that,” he said. “It’s that you’re ready for luck when it shows itself. I wasn’t; you will be.”
Was it wrong for someone like Mr. Angelo to fill me with so much hope and expectation?
“If you don’t dream, you’ll never be disappointed in yourself. You’ll always feel satisfied,” Mommy had told me when she was really talking about herself. “But it’s not worth the trade-off.”
“You’re in deep thought,” Jamie said now, waking me out of it.
I smiled. “You’re always there, trying to protect me, even from my own thoughts. I’ll always be safe with you.”
“And loved,” he said, and brought his lips to mine.
A kiss was so much, I thought. First, it was a promise that could be mutual.
It was also a moment filled with romantic anticipation.
Something thrilling and exciting would surely light up your body and make it tingle in places you never expected.
Jamie wasn’t a schooled lover, but it was clear to me that he put everything he felt into his kiss.
If I waited too long to press my lips back to his, I sensed he would feel a great letdown, a fear.
Was I kissing him because I didn’t want to hurt him or because I loved him?
He was whispering it and holding me tightly. What could my mother’s kiss to my father have been if they had grown so far apart? Had she simply been a good actress? Was I as good?
“We’ll have a wonderful life,” he whispered. “I promise.”
I kissed his neck, which surprised him, and he brought his hand to my breast. He rolled into me, and I let his hand travel everywhere. We were both moaning. The sexual pleasure kept me from thinking too hard. I put his hand under my skirt. He felt about and then stopped.
“I’d hate to think that I was taking advantage of you,” he said.
“You’re not.”
He looked around. “This isn’t the place I envisioned for it. I want it to be ours, everything… ours.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” I said, and he laughed.
He turned over, and I laid my head against his shoulder. We were looking up at the stars.
“I want to be everything for you,” he said. “Is that dumb?”
“No, but just be everything I need you to be.”
“Oh, I’ll be that for sure.”
“Lisa!” We heard Anna calling my name. “Lisa!”
I stood up quickly.
“What’s wrong, Anna?”
“You’re grandfather has a big surprise for you,” she shouted, not really seeing where I was.
I took Jamie’s hand. He scooped up the blanket, and we hurried to the house. Grandfather came out of his office the moment we entered.
“Your art teacher couldn’t wait until morning to tell you,” he said.
“Tell me what?”
“Your painting of the bay and the fishermen’s boats… was chosen to be displayed at the Doyle Art Gallery. We’re very proud of you, Lisa, and we know your mother would be beaming. They’re putting it up in the morning,” he said.
I looked at Jamie. He should have looked happier, excited, but instead he looked worried.
I took his hand. “Tomorrow you’ll take me there to see it. Okay?”
“Sure,” he said. “Oh, I can’t. Tomorrow we’re going to fish at the cove inlet. My father has a plan utilizing all the boats.”
“I’ll take you,” Grandfather said.
I looked at Jamie. Jamie couldn’t have seemed more worried if I had found another possible boyfriend. I squeezed his hand.
“And then when you are free, we’ll go again. Okay, Jamie? We’ll go later in the day and then go to dinner. My treat.”
“No, it’ll be mine,” Grandfather said. “I don’t have all that much to celebrate these days. Okay, Jamie?”
I thought that was cute and thoughtful of Grandfather, making sure Jamie didn’t think he was the recipient of a charitable act because he couldn’t afford an expensive Bar Harbor restaurant.
“Sure,” he said.
“Someday we’ll hang it in our home,” I whispered.
And he beamed.
“You could be a great politician,” my mother once told me. “The way you manipulate your father.”
I had laughed. But was I doing that again? Only this time manipulating Jamie? I hated to think I was being dishonest, but sometimes you did things more to help those you cared for than for yourself.
I had the feeling this wouldn’t be the last time.