Authors: D. P. Macbeth
Later that day, a letter arrived from Nantucket. The words, written in her mother's hand, were not unexpected. Her father had taken to his bed wracked with the pain of cancer that soon would end his life. His spirits plummeted soon after he learned of the death of Melba's brother. He had little interest in life, her mother wrote, with an anguish Melba had not read in her letters before. It tore at her heart, not because he would die, but because she was not there to be of aid to both of them in their grief. The time to leave Australia had come.
She shared her mother's letter with Aaron and Laura, explaining that she must return to America. Together, preparations were made, both for the wedding and Melba's departure soon after. While Laura tended to the wedding details, Melba set about gathering her most cherished possessions, choosing carefully what to take with her and what to leave behind. At times, confusion stymied her decisions because she did not know if she would ever return. Thoughts of a perilous sea journey still filled her with fear despite all that she had been told about the speed and safety of modern ships, so different from the vessel that carried her, sick with child, to Australia.
She also found herself gazing frequently at Aaron, careful not to let him notice. Since his return, he had not regained any memory of the life he once knew. In many ways, his personality was the same as the delightful boy she raised. As he recovered his health his spirits grew brighter and he took on the role of leader, making good decisions and carrying them out with efficiency. She was proud of him, knowing that he had lost none of his virtue despite the hardships he endured. The heartache that accompanied his failure to recognize her had eased. This, she knew, was because of the presence of Laura. The healing power of love had come into the cottage, young romantic love that cast aside the demons of war and, mother/daughter love that soothed sorrow and eased tension. Melba knew she would miss them both, but she drew great contentment, knowing that her son was safely in the arms of a fine woman.
When her trunks were packed, she turned her attention to her most cherished possession, Nathan's music. It was a part of her since his untimely death, but now it presented a dilemma that pulled at her soul. The magnificent melodies that brought them together and nurtured their love became the last most powerful link that prevented her grief from bringing her to the brink of insanity. When she played each lovely song she saw Nathan's strong face and felt him at her side. Early on, after she reluctantly accepted that he would never return, she vowed to protect his music forever, never to be lost or forgotten. It had been her intention to bequeath her treasure to Aaron, exacting a deathbed promise that it be safeguarded for future Whitehurst generations.
She sat alone in her room and pulled the string of the oilcloth that wrapped the songbooks. Carefully she slid the leather bound booklets out and placed them on her lap. One by one, she lovingly turned the pages, stopping occasionally to stare at the notes of those that conjured up particularly pleasant memories. Hours passed as she went through this ritual, debating what to do, keep them with her always or leave them behind with Aaron. At last, she placed them back in the cloth and tied the string gently. She would leave them behind, safe from the risk of loss at sea.
With the decision made, she recognized another dilemma, one she could only solve with pen and paper. Aaron had no memory of his father, his songs or the many stories Melba had told him about Nathan as he grew up. Too, she despaired that he would never regain his memory of those things. She could retell them, but there was no time and her son was preoccupied with his impending marriage. No, she realized, there must be a repository left with these songs that told the story of the man who created them. She rose and walked to a small desk nestled in the corner. There, she organized her thoughts and, dipping pen in ink, began to write. Throughout that afternoon and for several days that followed, Melba wrote the story of her husband, falling in love on Nantucket and their collaboration with his music. When she was finished she carefully placed the pages with
the songbooks in a metal box at the bottom of the one trunk she was leaving behind. The Whitehurst legacy, she hoped, would be preserved.
***
The wedding between Aaron Whitehurst of Apollo Bay, Victoria, Australia and Laura McGonigal of Preston, Lancashire, England did not manifest as the simple affair the bride and groom planned. The swollen pride that Australia felt for the soldiers who fought at Gallipoli sought every opportunity for expression. The people of Apollo Bay were no exception. Thus, when word surfaced of Aaron's upcoming marriage to a woman who had also been at Gallipoli, the people of the tiny village and many others from the surrounding area joined the celebration. A parade down Main Street was organized with banners hoisted on lampposts and flags arrayed in windows. A small band played music and marched at the head of a throng of children dressed in gaily decorated costumes, depicting all manner of characters from clowns to toy soldiers. They were followed by elected officials, some of Aaron's fellow soldiers and decorated vehicles of all types, from tractors to fire engines and even an artillery gun, its barrel safely plugged, but nevertheless chilling in appearance. Little advance notice of this special event was given to the happy couple, so when they arrived in the village they found themselves bewildered as they were guided into the center of the cheering throng marching to the church.
A second tribute centered upon Melba. She was recognized as a humble woman who gave her all to the community of Apollo Bay. When the church bells rang out each Sunday it was Melba who welcomed the parishioners. When families were in need, she was the one they turned to for aid. Melba organized the community, encouraging everyone to contribute what they could. With Melba at the keys, the church organ rang out with such beautiful sound that even the most hardened sailor was compelled to draw near and listen regardless of his belief in God. The market, with her at its center, had long been the gathering place for all and, during those times when some in need could not pay, she slyly handed over her fruits and vegetables with a nod and a smile that conveyed the words “next time' with special warmth. Learning that her son's wedding also marked her departure from them, her neighbors would not be prevented from hailing her on this special day.
Thus, though she hurried ahead so she could be at the organ when Aaron and Laura entered the church, her many friends would not let her pass. Instead, they led her into the street where cheers went up and a choir burst into one of her husband's most joyous melodies. Stunned by the honor, she could not hold back her tears. Several women came to her side as she convulsed in a mixture of joy and sadness, steadying her as she almost fell, unable to control her shaking emotions. Down the street, she saw through a mist of tears, the parade growing closer with the band's music rising above the cheers and singing all around. Any semblance of self-control left her. She could do nothing, but stand and endure the adulation as she waited.
At last, the young couple arrived, showing equal shock at the overwhelming crowd. Together, they climbed the steps into the church only to find it full to the rafters with men, women and children jammed into every pew and standing in every available spot along the sides and in the stairway leading to the organ above. Melba tried to climb the stairs, seeking passage with a smile at those who stood in her way, but again, her
friends would not let her ascend, steering her back toward the altar where Aaron was already positioned, waiting for Laura.
Given the prominent seat in the first pew, Melba waited, unable to comprehend this enormous outpouring of love. Then the organ rang out and Laura made her joyous entrance. Her dress was the traditional white with lace along the bodice and trailing down the full skirt that gently brushed the floor. She carried a bouquet of red roses that added a spark of color, enchanting the glow on her cheeks. From all who turned and watched this beautiful young woman, one word was whispered above the sound of the organ, “stunning”.
Following the ceremony, the bride and groom walked into the sunlight only to be further shocked by the overflow of people standing in the street. A carriage waited at the curb and they hesitantly descended the church steps in its direction, not certain that it was meant for them. Melba followed, now understanding that something special was occurring. The whole community had usurped the small, unassuming wedding they had planned. She began to comprehend this torrent of support as a reflection of the same devotion she felt for her neighbors. It was a happy moment as she took a measure of control, urging Aaron and Laura ahead. When they reached the curb the mayor stepped forward and opened the carriage door. First, he took Laura by the hand, kissed her gently on the cheek and helped her up. Then he turned to Melba and swept her into his arms with an all-enveloping embrace that lingered as the onlookers purred. He helped her up whispering, “We will miss you.” Aaron followed, eager to join his wife and mother as he felt the beginnings of the terrible tremors that plagued his life since Gallipoli.
Laura noticed it right away and as soon as the door to the carriage was shut, took her husband by the shoulders and held him tightly to her. Melba scanned his face to be sure that he would not slip into blackout. Together, the two women watched and waited as the carriage pulled away, taking them where, they did not know. As the horse's hoofs clip clopped over the cobblestones, both women sighed with relief when Aaron's trembling passed.
Minutes later, the carriage came to a stop in front of the Yarra Inn on the waterfront. The celebration that followed continued, unabated, through the afternoon and into the night. Scores of people wedged their way into the Inn where food and drink was plentiful, donated by every business and every farmer who had ever known the Whitehursts. The small band that marched in the morning now set-up in the hotel's tightly packed hall where its music, much of it the most merry of Nathan's repertoire, brought everyone up to dance. Interspersed among the songs and feasting, were a bevy of speeches in praise of the Whitehursts' contributions to the community. Those with ties to the military spoke about the bravery of the men who fought at Gallipoli. Aaron was singled out as one of the men who brought honor and distinction to the village. Many times during the day the three Whitehursts were called upon to speak and, after demurring once too often, were finally escorted to the front of the room where each expressed surprise and gratitude for the outpouring of affection. In the following days many visitors came to the cottage to say good-bye to Melba.
***
Her ship departed Sydney on the Saturday following the wedding. Aaron and Laura accompanied her on the train from Melbourne to Sydney and then helped her bring several trunks to her tiny quarters on the second deck. The massive ocean liner, with its
gigantic smokestacks piercing the sky, filled Melba with awe. The size of this vessel, combined with the seeming power it possessed, gave her comfort as she braced for the long voyage home to America.
As the whistles blew loud, announcing the ship's imminent departure, the three gathered at the top of the gangplank. Melba turned to her son, embracing him with a fervor she refused to contain. In the time since his return from the war they had bonded again as mother and son. Not with the memories they had shared from his youth, but with a new collection that included his love for Laura and the self-confidence that both women had helped him regain. As they parted, she placed a small key in his hand.
“This opens the trunk with your father's music. Protect his legacy and pass it to your children as I pass it to you today.” Then she turned to Laura and took her in her arms. “I am pleased that you have married my son. No one, but you, could have helped him through his trials. I will always love you as I love him.”
Aaron and Laura watched the ship round the point at the head of the bay where Captain Cook first approached the land âdown under'. Then they turned toward town where they planned a week's honeymoon, presaging their life together.
The days and nights of sightseeing, sumptuous eating and lovemaking, was the happiest of their lives. When not walking the waterfront or hiking out to the magnificent beaches just beyond the city center, the two made for the lush gardens and parks that were quickly giving Sydney a worldwide reputation. The British influence was everywhere in the trees, shrubs, flowers and lawns that grew in meticulously designed and elegantly maintained order. The botanical gardens of Hyde Park particularly enchanted them and they found themselves picnicking on its sprawling grasses each day. In the warm midday breeze they feasted on bread, cheese and wine, purchased from street vendors along the walk from their hotel a few blocks away.
In the evenings, they took in the city's fledgling entertainments; opera, theater and a wildly popular diversion, moving pictures from America. Occasionally, they found a pub in the old district where they danced after the evening's earlier entertainments until they could stand no longer. Then, in a nod to carefree luxury, they hired a carriage back to the hotel.
On the last day, Laura tended to the only bit of business remaining from her old life before Aaron. Leaving him behind in the early morning, she walked across the city to the military hospital where the British Auxiliary Nurse Corps attached to the Anzac battalion was headquartered. There, she signed papers marking her resignation. Then she spent the remainder of the morning making the rounds, saying good-bye to the doctors and nurses who had come to admire her so greatly. In the afternoon, she rejoined Aaron at the Botanical Gardens where they enjoyed one last picnic, vowing to return each anniversary forever thereafter. As evening approached, they collected their things from the hotel and strolled to the central railway station on Eddy Avenue.
In 1919 little was known of the Atrax Robustus, a darkly colored arachnid that grew to three inches in length and inhabited the regions around Sydney. There were few accounts of this aggressive spider in the brief historical record written by the English who had come to inhabit the young country. Still, many personal diaries told of a mysterious illness that came on exceedingly fast, often driving the convicts and settlers who first arrived in the country, to collapse and even death. The indigenous people, of course, knew this treacherous creature well and kept a careful lookout for its telltale signs, funnel
shaped webs that were not webs at all, but tubular burrows that the animal lined with a silk like structure. It could be found in moist areas that contained sand and clay.