Chapter Seven A: Mad

By Friday, Aaron felt well enough to call Enterprise and have a car delivered to his home. He was gradually cutting down on the number of Vicodin that he was taking and while the pain sometimes woke him up, in general he was sleeping more peacefully. He and Jack had used the time to research the issues and positions that were likely to come up in this year’s Congressional Races. They pulled copies of the Congressional Record for the past four years, looking up every vote for how Pol had voted, all her speeches, and all bills that had her name attached to them. When Aaron walked into her offices in February he wanted to be ready for whatever they threw at him.

“I think you’ve got a winner here,” Jack commented at one point. Aaron had to agree. He was actually becoming excited about getting back into the political foray.

“I’m a little worried,” Aaron said, “but I have to admit that this is beginning to feel like the seventies.”

“Calm your heart, boy,” Jack interjected. “You are keeping this to strictly business. She’s got a good platform that you can work on with a clear conscience. And we get an insider in Congress. We can parlay that kind of information into a lot of cash.”

“We’re going to have to discuss that seriously,” Aaron said. “I don’t want to be caught in anything that would damage her success.”

“Never asking for leaks or illegal info—just a resource.”

Aaron wasn’t completely satisfied with the answer and vowed to get a concrete agreement with Jack before he started work in earnest. For now, however, he was finding Jack’s meticulous care in parsing the obscure Congressional Record to separate issues from commendations for turning 100 and resolutions supporting the goals and ideals of Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease Awareness Month.

When Aaron got his car, he had to quash a sudden urge to drive straight back out to the church to investigate further. But instead he began driving around to various car dealerships to shop for a car. He didn’t bother to test drive anything, but determined from his first survey that it would not be a new car. No matter what he had in banks on foreign soil, it wouldn’t due to be seen to be outspending his income. But that Mercedes SLK280 Roadster was sweet—especially the red one. Damn, he thought. I’m thinking like a teenage boy… or girl. At any rate, a $45,000 price tag was way out of range for what he was willing and able to pay. Besides which, he was 56 years old and should probably consider something more sensible for a change. He had to admit, he’d complained about the Fiat every year since he moved back to Indiana, and that had been a long time to nurse an image that he’d outgrown already by that time.

When he had nearly exhausted himself kicking tires, he looked at his watch and suddenly realized that he had not cancelled his appointment with Aunt Hattie. It was 2:30—he could still make it. He headed south and pulled into the parking lot at Warren Memorial Home at just 3:00. He grabbed his bag and ran up to Hattie’s room, took a deep breath and winced from the accumulated pain, then knocked.

“Who’s there?” came the voice from inside. It sounded strangely querulous. Aaron answered and the voice responded, “Come in.” He’d no more that opened the door when Hattie declared, “You’re late. I’d given up on you coming today. Thought I’d been stood up.” Aaron glanced at his watch. It was 3:05.

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Hattie. I didn’t mean to cause you alarm. I have been shopping for a new car and lost track of time,” Aaron said.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Hattie declared.

“I try not to be late for appointments. I’m sorry.”

“I mean the car.”

“What?” Hattie pointed out the window to the parking lot. Aaron could see the rental car from here. She’d been watching and seen him pull up. What a cagey old lady!

“That’s a rental car.” Aaron explained.

“What’s wrong with your little yellow sports car?” Hattie asked.

“I was in an accident,” Aaron answered, getting Hattie and himself settled in their chairs. He really didn’t want to get into how he came to be in an accident. “My car didn’t fare as well as I did, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you’re too old for a sports car anyway. A girl wants to see some stability in her man.” Hattie glanced toward the window again. “But she doesn’t want him to be boring,” she concluded with a sniff.” Aaron started the recording.

“Harper had a car, you know,” Hattie continued. Her voice had returned to its sweet mellifluous tone and Aaron had to assume that he was at least temporarily forgiven. “Oh yes. It was a Roadster. The first time I saw it was on that Saturday morning after the dance when I met him at Twelve Oaks.” With those few words, Hattie was transported back into the 1920s. She was lost in reverie and Aaron let himself become lost in her words. They were better than pain-killers.

“You might think it was terribly naughty of me to sneak off to meet my beau in the woods,” Hattie continued. “And you would be right, of course. Oh, I knew exactlywhat I was doing, and I knew what I wanted. When I got to the old church after I’d finished my chores, I knew he’d be there waiting for me. But I was very surprised when I saw the bright shiny new car parked in front of the church. There was no one around the car, so I went around back of the church to the circle of Oaks. All twelve were still standing back then. I don’t know how many there are left now. I remember three of them falling while I lived on the family farm.

“Well, sure enough, there he was, sitting with his back against an old tree. He had a huge coat spread out under him and had a ukulele on his knee strumming. He looked like a picture in the Ladies Home Journal that Mama always subscribed to. And he was singing. Not the silly little ditties that all the kids new and were the first thing that anyone who could get a ukulele learned to play. He was singing beautiful music. Almost like a hymn but it wasn’t really religious. He sang of home and love and peace.

“I was enrapt. I walked right over to him and settled down on the coat next to him without a word. I thought he might try to take advantage of me, I was so mesmerized by his singing. At least I convinced myself that being seduced by the music would be as good an excuse as any.” Aaron was certain that he saw the color rise in her cheeks as she spoke of this. She had been a naughty girl!

“Well,” Hattie went on, after taking a sip of Sherry, “I needn’t have worried. When he finished the song he turned to me and said, ‘Sing with me Mattilda’ just like that. No one called me Hattie back in those days, of course, because it was before I went mad,” Hattie confided. “Well, I was too embarrassed to sing, but he kept coaxing me and chiding me. Finally I let out a few notes and he started strumming “Banks of the Wabash” and it was so pretty, I just started singing and singing. He’d coach me a little here and there. ‘Breathe from your stomach,’ he’d say. But he’d eventually get me to sing out and sing softly and sing loudly and with an English accent, all sorts of ways.”

“Can you sing for me now, Aunt Hattie?” Aaron asked cautiously. She didn’t answer, but her mouth began to move and the whispered notes gradually became louder as she got into the song. Her voice was old, but sweet and mellow, not ragged. Aaron could hear what a beautiful voice she must once have had. In some ways, perhaps it was more beautiful now than it had ever been.

'Round my Indiana homesteads wave the cornfields, In the distance loom the woodlands clear and cool. Oftentimes my thoughts revert to scenes of childhood, Where I first received my lessons, nature's school. But one thing there is missing in the picture, Without her face it seems so incomplete. I long to see my mother in the doorway, As she stood there years ago, her boy to greet. Oh, the moonlight's fair tonight along the Wabash, From the fields there comes the breath of newmown hay. Through the sycamores the candle lights are gleaming, On the banks of the Wabash, far away. Many years have passed since I strolled by the river, Arm in arm, with sweetheart Mary by my side, It was there I tried to tell her that I loved her, It was there I begged of her to be my bride. Long years have passed since I strolled thro' the churchyard. She's sleeping there, my angel, Mary dear, I loved her, but she thought I didn't mean it, Still I'd give my future were she only here.

The refrain died down at last “On the banks of the Wabash far away.” Hattie smiled at Aaron. “I don’t often have an audience these days,” she said.

“Are you a professional singer?” Aaron asked.

“Well, I was. Now that you can put in past tense because no one pays to hear this old voice any more,” Hattie laughed. “I would meet Harper up at the Twelve Oaks every Saturday morning all that summer and he would teach me more about singing. Said I could be a professional, or maybe go into musical drama if I weren’t afraid of what people would say. You know people thought any girl in the theatre was a loose woman back then. I’d have to say I didn’t do much to improve the image,” she chuckled again.

“Every Saturday after we’d sung, and snuggled a bit under the Oaks, Harper would take me for a drive in the Studebaker. What fun we would have riding with the top down and singing as he sped down the road leaving a dust cloud behind us. Every Saturday night when I got home and he drove off, my brothers would rush out to try to catch a glimpse of him. They would question me about my behavior and I would assure them that I was quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you. They’d given up their rights to look after me that time I fell in the creek and Harper saved me. One Saturday he took me all the way up into Fort Wayne and we went to a club where he made me get up and sing. I wasn’t sure about it, but he played the piano, too, and I just felt when I was with him that I could do anything.

“Well, I was hooked,” she said flatly. “Once I’d sung for a crowd of people, I knew that I’d be singing for audiences all my life. The applause! Oh it was wonderful! By August, I have to tell you, we were spending the weekend in Fort Wayne and I was singing for tips and earning good money for a girl in the Twenties. Oh, there were plenty who wanted me to give them special favors, but there was always Harper there to protect me and to be with me. And, well, if there were special favors to be given, there was no question in my mind who would get them.” Aaron was certain he saw her blush slightly again.

“One day while we were up a the Oaks, Harper said ‘Let’s not go into town tonight, Mattilda. Let’s just stay here in this circle of old trees and look at the sky through those leaves before they turn color and fall off.” And that’s just what we did. We lay out there on a blanket under the trees and he held me till long after dark. The stars came out and he’d tell me stories about them.

“’See that star at the top of the cluster that looks like a dog-ear?’ he’d say. ‘There’s a planet that circles that star that is all one living breathing organism. It thinks it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy, it’s so vain. But I have to say, Mattilda, it’s about the only thing in the universe that has a voice as pretty as yours. A little deeper of course,’ he laughed.

“’Oh, and is that the planet you come from, Harper,’ I asked. ‘No dear,’ he said, ‘I’ve only visited there. I was on my way to eBlaksia which is over there just south of the big dipper a bit. Her star is a pretty faint one, but you can make it out just below the handle there. She is a naughty little planet. If we ever get her out of adolescence it will be a miracle.’”

“Harper must have been a great story-teller,” Aaron smiled.

“Oh yes. He would tell me stories of all the different worlds he’d visited and why he’d gone. Usually it was just to carry messages from one of his people to another, but sometimes he actually had adventures of his own. I so miss Harper.”

“Were you together long?” Aaron asked.

“It seemed like forever, but it was just that one summer. He was telling me that he had to go and I’d never see him again. But he had to do it in his own way.

“He said, ‘Mattilda, I’ve been so many places that I can’t even begin to describe them to you. But here I’ve found out what it means when it says the daughter’s of Adam are the most beautiful. I’ve lost my heart to you, dearie.’ Isn’t that sweet? I always called him dearie, too. But he said that night that when he was gone that all I’d ever have to do was sing and he’d hear me. He’d be right next to me. So I set my mind to become a professional singer right then, so he’d never be able to leave me.

“But he left that fall.” She cut herself off abruptly and Aaron thought he could hear her repeating the refrain of her song one more time.

“Do you know where he went?” If Harper was still alive somewhere, Aaron thought he could find him. What better gift could he give this charming old lady.

“They say he died,” Hattie said. “One Saturday morning I was delayed because it was raining so hard I couldn’t see my way through the woods. I never let Harper pick me up at home because my brothers were so nosy. As I was struggling up the hill toward the Twelve Oaks, I was knocked to the ground by a deafening thunder clap from a bolt of lightning just over the rise. I couldn’t hear for a while. I was absolutely stunned. When I collected myself, I ran to the Twelve Oaks. One of the trees was down, split completely in half by the bolt of lightning. I didn’t see Harper, so I ran around the trees calling his name. When I reached the smoldering trunk of the tree, I saw his body under the limb.

“I suppose I went a little berserk. I couldn’t lift the limb so I ran to the car, parked in its usual spot. I had never driven it, but I’d watched Harper drive often enough. Well, to make a long story short, I got it moving forward and sped back to my home. I nearly ran over the chickens that were too slow getting out of my way as I splashed through the mud. And I couldn’t remember how to stop, so I just turned it off and let it run into Mama’s rose trellis. My brothers and father came rushing out and I could hardly speak but told them Harper was hurt up at the Twelve. They tossed me in the back of the Studebaker and piled in around me. I never knew my father could drive, but he got the car back up to Twelve Oaks. He and my brothers ran to the tree and lifted it off Harper, but it was too late. He was gone.

“I still don’t remember much after that point except the funeral at that church. During the service I’m sure I saw Harper get up and leave through the front of the building—right through the stained glass window.” She trailed off remembering.

“I’ve been up there, Aunt Hattie,” Aaron said quietly. “It’s a strange place, that church.”

Hattie’s eyes suddenly cleared and she looked directly at Aaron. “Oh, dearie,” she said brightly. “That’s not a church, that’s their spaceship.”

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