Chapter Ten C: Making up with Aunt Hattie

Hattie was not happy. She’d been stood up for her Friday afternoon date (even though Aaron had cancelled the appointment the previous week when he found that he would be in Washington for the week. But to Hattie, it meant that something, anything, else was more important than his weekly visit with her.

It was the spaceship thing, she thought. Now he would think she was mad, too. And she’d had such high hopes for him. Then nothing. She had sat in her lonely room the previous Friday with no one to talk to, as usual. She certainly couldn’t have a drink of sherry. One simply doesn’t drink alone. She saw his new green car pull up in the parking lot from her window, but resolved not to answer the door when he knocked. He could just be stood up as well as she could. But when the knock came on the door, she brightened inside as she automatically said to come in.

“Aunt Hattie, it is so good to see you again,” Aaron said coming straight to her chair and leaning to give her a peck on the cheek. She turned her head slightly and Aaron nearly stabbed himself on a hairpin. “How are you, Aunt Hattie,” he said as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of her little table.

“Fine, no thanks to you,” Hattie said a little petulantly.

“What did I do?” Aaron asked innocently.

“Well, just didn’t come last week, did you?” Hattie accused. “Treat a girl’s feelings lightly, it won’t get you anyplace.”

“Dear Aunt Hattie,” Aaron said soothingly. “I did not mean to treat you lightly, and I did say that I had to be out of town last week. You know, I must work or I wouldn’t be worth a girl having. Look here,” he said reaching into his briefcase. “I’ve brought you a new bottle of Sherry. A very nice Sandman Sherry. Shall we try a little of it?” Aunt Hattie was mollified as she examined the bottle that Aaron proffered. They poured a drink and toasted their friendship and Aaron’s new job.

“You must tell me,” Hattie began, “all about your new job.” Aaron knew this question would come up and was prepared with a brief description of what he was hired to do and why he thought it was important. In all likelihood Hattie was not current on politics. Of course, she would surprise him again. “They are all going to hell in a hand-basket,” Hattie declared assessing the current political situation. You simply can’t be an international bully and expect the world to love you. They might be afraid of you, but if they are they will all be watching for a moment when they can sneak up on you and beat you. I say throw them all out and start over.”

“Well, I think there are some good ones that we should be keeping,” Aaron said, “and if you knew some of them you’d soften that just a little. It is just so hard to work for change.”

“Oh yes, I know there must be some good in all of them, and some among them who are good. It is just so difficult to tell them apart these days.”

“As a matter of fact,” Aaron said as he turned on the recorder, “my new boss lives on your old homestead. Her name is Pol Stamos.”

“Polyhymnia?” Hattie asked in surprise. “I thought you lived in Fort Wayne. That’s not in her district.” Aaron was very surprised now. Who would have thought that Hattie would have any idea who her Congresswoman was and how the districts were divided? Most of the constituents of said district couldn’t tell you that.

“You don’t have to live in the district to work for the Representative,” Aaron said. “I’m surprised you know of Congresswoman Stamos,” he continued. “A lot of people don’t really know who their representative is.”

“Know of her? I ought to know of her. She’s my great-granddaughter.” Hattie tossed it off so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for it to sink in.

“Your great-granddaughter?” Aaron exclaimed. “Aunt Hattie, you told me you’d never been married.”

“I have never been married,” Hattie looked back at him a little startled. “That doesn’t mean I never had children,” she paused. “Child.”

“When did that happen?” Aaron asked. “It must have been quite an experience to be a single mother in the twenties and thirties.”

“Well now, didn’t I say that I was with Harper all that summer and that we spent weekends in Fort Wayne together?” Hattie asked back. “You don’t think we spent all that time swapping recipes do you?” It was such a surprise that Aaron was truly left speechless. It had simply never occurred to him that Hattie would have been such a wild child, even after all the stories she’d told him up to now. If Harper was the father, that would have made her all of seventeen when she had her child. How did her parents greet that news? he wondered. Recovering his composure he turned to the subject at hand.

“I’ve interviewed a couple teens this past year who were single parents and I thought it was something unique to, well not this generation, but at least the past couple. Can you tell me more about what it was like being a single teen mom in the twenties?” he asked.

“No I can’t,” Hattie said. “I was never allowed to be the mom. Here, pour me another glass of sherry, dearie. I’ll tell you all about it.” Aaron obliged and settled back to listen to another of Hattie’s amazing stories.

“I knew I was pregnant already when Harper went away. I had no idea how Mama and Papa would take the news, but I was sure it wouldn’t be good. One night shortly after the funeral I got in Harper’s roadster, managed to get it started, and very jerkily got it out of the yard before my eldest brother, Roy, came bursting out of the house and came running toward me. I’d been pretty calm about my plans for the past day, packing carefully all the pretty things I would need. I just hoped that I could make my way with the friends I’d made in Fort Wayne in Harper’s company.

“But when Roy came running out the door I lost all my composure and my foot slipped off the clutch. The car gave a leap forward and then died on the spot. Roy came running up beside me and pulled the door open. He suspected that some hooligan had come by to steal the car and was in for the shock of his life when he saw me in the seat with the bags piled in the back. It was too much for me and I burst into tears again when he asked me what I thought I was doing.

“But there was one thing about Roy that I will never forget. He truly cared for me and when I’d burst forth with the whole story sitting there on the dirt road in the driver’s seat of the Roadster, he was all sympathy. He checked my supplies and asked how much money I had. Well, it wasn’t much, but I figured I’d get a job in Fort Wayne when I got there. He had me wait while he ran into the house and grabbed a tin of money that he’d been saving since he was ten. By today’s standards, it wasn’t much. Just a little under five dollars. But to me it was a fortune and he was just giving it to me. Then he went around front and cranked the old thing back to life and slid into the seat next to me.

“He showed me how to work the clutch and the gas together and drove with me as I learned to drive. The final test was to make the big hill up toward the Twelve Oaks. I made it and stopped the car to go visit Harper’s grave, even though I knew he wasn’t really there. My brother told me that he’d visit me in a month to make sure everything was all right, then he turned back down the hill toward home and I got back into the car and drove into Fort Wayne.” There was a note of finality about it and Aaron wondered whether she ever saw her brother or family again. What a traumatic time it must have been for them all.

“Harper’s friends were good to me,” Hattie continued, “although I knew they didn’t approve of our relationship. Still, they provided a place for me to live and helped me to keep singing and earning a little money. They never took anything for their pains, but went about their rather strange business without paying much attention to me. Roy came to see me once a month when he went into Fort Wayne. He told me that first visit that Mama hadn’t been feeling well that month and was staying inside. She wouldn’t go to church or anyplace else. He reckoned she was blue over me leaving, but promised he wouldn’t tell why. I imagined that I’d go home when the baby was born and somehow that would make it all okay.

“When Roy told me Mama was failing, I was in my last month of pregnancy and simply couldn’t travel. Remember, an auto trip in the spring of 1924 from Fort Wayne to Uniondale was a little more arduous than today. The bouncing up and down in the Roadster would put me in danger of starting premature labor. But something else drove me into action.

“I was sitting in my bedroom late one night reading. My hosts were often out all night doing whatever it was they did. I gathered it had something to do with establishing a new arts program. They used strange words to describe it that were not in my normal vocabulary, as if they thought that they needed to obfuscate what they were saying when they were around me. That was one of the words I learned from them. Obfuscate. I wasn’t interested anyway, so they could have used any words they wanted. But then I overheard the conversation that night. They talked about how they should deal with the birth, suggesting that my baby should be sent away as soon as possible. In the post-partum phase, they would simply remove it and tell me it had died.

“I was terrified. I understood what they were then, and I resolved not to give them the opportunity to rob me of my baby,” Hattie took another sip of sherry as she paused to remember that night. “I made my second midnight escape in the Roadster. I was scarcely able to turn it over in my condition with my belly protruding and tears running down my cheeks. But desperation will drive you forward when determination fails and I drove away from the house where I’d been staying. The ride was rough and the results were as I feared. The first labor pains hit me when I was barely south of town. Before I reached Ossian I’d stopped the car and screamed in the seat of the Roadster until I’d delivered a baby girl. There was little I could do but keep going and it was near dawn when I pulled up in the farmhouse yard with a baby clutched to my breast.

“My brother’s ran out to get me and drag me into the house. But instead of putting me to bed, they pulled me into my mother’s room where she lay dying. I kissed her forehead and she opened her eyes. ‘My child, what have you been doing?’ she said. ‘You need food and a bath.’ I said, ‘Mama, you’re a grandmother now. You need to stay around so you can help me raise her.’ Well, Mama looked at her and reached out to touch her little fingers. ‘We’ll name her Claire, after my mother’s sister,’ Mama said. ‘It was such a hard delivery, though. I don’t think I can stay. Papa will have to take care of her.’ And then, while she was still touching my little one’s hand, she slipped away.

“Life was so unfair. I’d lost my love and my mother, just when I should be feeling the joy of parenthood myself. Papa called the boys in to say goodbye to Mama and then said the strangest thing. ‘Boys, your Mama is gone, but she brought a new little sister into the world just before she left. Let’s help Mattie get her cleaned up and celebrate our new life as we mourn our loss.’ He gently lifted me up from where I was kneeling and took my little girl from me. He led us into the kitchen and got water heated. Daniel brought milk and warmed it in the water and gave my little girl her first taste of this world.” Tears were in Hattie’s eyes as she related the last of this story, and Aaron dabbed at his own eyes with a handkerchief. He reached to turn off the recorder, but Hattie waved his hand away.

“I’m not finished,” she said. “We buried Mama up on the hill and those who came to say good-bye were told that she’d died in childbirth. She hadn’t been out of the house since I was last home so no one but the doctor had seen either her or me for seven months. They didn’t know that I had been pregnant and that my mother hadn’t and Doc Robinson promised that he’d never tell. After the funeral, Papa told me that I’d better get back to my life. My baby was safe and he would make sure she knew all about her Aunt Mattie. I should take myself back to the city and sing.

“I was heart-broken, but it was plain to see that Papa had made up his mind. He had no intentions of me staying around to possibly cast doubt on his story that Mama had died in childbirth or that I was anything less than a pure and innocent girl who was making a big success as a singer in the city. He made sure that my gas tank was filled and that I had some additional amount of money. He suggested that I go back to Fort Wayne, but I couldn’t risk Harper’s friends finding out about where my baby was. So I headed for Chicago instead. I became a success on the Vaudeville circuit as a singer and moved straight to Broadway to act in musicals. Oh, I was never a big name, though I had my leading lady credits, but I was successful.” Hattie seemed to have made an end to her story.

“Did you every see your daughter again?” Aaron asked.

“Oh heavens yes,” Hattie said. “I came home for holiday’s and when Papa died I was there with him. That is when the madness started. Are we going to talk about that today?”

Aaron looked at his watch. “It’s time for tea,” he said. “Do you mind talking while we have tea?”

“Oh certainly dearie,” Hattie said. “I’m so glad you can stay for tea.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Amanda Frederiks came in with the tea service. She set the table for two and greeted Aaron warmly. When she had gone, Hattie initiated the continuation.

“Well to understand the rest of the story, you have to understand that Roy and Daniel, my brothers, were very different people. Roy was older, compassionate, and cared for me deeply. Daniel was always a little stand-offish and judgmental about things. If you didn’t live up to his standards he had no use for you, and I’m afraid I fell considerably short. It wouldn’t have been much of a problem except that when Papa died Claire was only fourteen. Roy was set to step in taking care of her but with the farm and all he was taxed to care for himself. Daniel got married and assumed that he’d take over the farm, but the will was very clear giving Roy clear title and giving Daniel a sizable sum that got him out of the depression very nicely. So, Daniel and his wife took Claire in. I’m afraid that he wasn’t kind to her, and she followed closely in my footsteps without even knowing that I was her mother. She married at 17 and had a child the next year. A couple years later, we found ourselves embroiled in World War II and her husband was shipped off to England. Daniel, feeling somewhat abandoned by Claire joined up and went the other way to fight in the Pacific. Roy took Claire and her baby, Alison in at the farm. I went off to join the USO and entertain troops. To make a long story short, I was the only one who returned.

“Neither Roy nor I had ever broached Claire’s true birth story with her. She believed herself fully our sister. I simply had never felt comfortable telling her and Roy believed he was acting in all our best interest. But when Allison was about eight years old and the world was at peace again, I decided to return home and confront them with the true story. The war did something to all of us. It changed us somehow. We all clung more firmly to our truths than ever before. They knew I’d changed when I got back. It was time to set the record straight.

“Claire and Allison both loved me as their adventurous sister and aunt who had made her way in the world. Something both of them envied, but things had never been quite the same between Claire and me since Papa died. So one night when Roy had gone out I called the girls together at bedtime and told them my story. The response I got was not what I expected. They laughed. I was shocked, I have to say. I sat there with my mouth open.

“Claire looked at her daughter and said ‘Aunt Mattie’s gone crazy!’ It was as if they had rehearsed this all along, waiting for me to tell my story. Allison said, ‘Aunt Mattie’s mad as a hatter!’ Then Claire said, ‘Mad Aunt Mattie.’ And Allison started over and over chanting Mad-Aunt-Mattie-Mad-As-A-Hatter until she’d messed up the words and they came out Mad-Aunt-Hattie-Had-As-A-Matter. And that is where they stuck. Mad Aunt Hattie. Claire sent Allison off to bed and looked at me. I was still in shock and near tears. Then she told me that Daniel had told her all about my delusions of being her mother after Mama died and that that was why Papa sent me away. He told her that you had to be mad to be in theater and I was a capital case. Then she asked why I didn’t include the part about us being aliens. She said that would have made it all the funnier.

“Well, I have to say I lost it then. I pulled myself together and rose. Then I said haughtily, ‘Look at your feet, dearie, then laugh about being an alien.’ That silenced her. I left the next day, but in Allison’s mind, and I am afraid in dear Polyhymnia’s mind, I am still Mad Aunt Hattie.” Aunt Hattie stopped abruptly and in a moment began a kind of sing-song chant very quietly. “Mad Aunt Hattie Had As A Matter,” over and over again. Aaron could not leave her like this and there were things he needed to know.

“Aunt Hattie,” he spoke quietly, but she responded and smiled at him. “Do you ever see your great-granddaughter now?”

“Oh, dearie,” she said, “Polly is a sweet girl and has always been kind to me. She knows that there is some truth to what I say even though it was truly an unkind cut to make at Claire. Having six toes on one foot doesn’t make you an alien dearie. Polly comes by at least once a month to see me. You see, we are the only ones left in the family, no matter how you cut it. She lives out there in the big house by herself just so she can be near the church. When I die, she’ll bury me up on that hill, and someday she’ll join the others. You see, dearie, she knows. She’s one of them.”

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