Authors: Brian MacLearn
Only Great Aunt Vicky was at the table when I entered the kitchen. She looked up at me and without saying a word, got up and poured me a large cup of coffee. She brought it back to the table and set it in front of me. It wasn’t as hot as it once was, and I drank nearly half of it in the first swallow. Great Aunt Vicky had made some cinnamon rolls, smothered with her cream cheese frosting. She put one in the microwave and, after the bell dinged, placed it before me with a fork. The smell alone made my stomach knot and gurgle. After the first bite entered my mouth, the rest disappeared in a flash. Between the food and the coffee I felt somewhat revived.
Great Aunt Vicky and I shared the table without conversation. She probably had seen the way I looked and assumed I had been grieving in my own personal way and didn’t want to impose. She had a way of sensing the mood of the people around her, and I think she knew I wasn’t in a sharing mood. After the second cup of coffee and another cinnamon roll to boot, I excused myself and headed back upstairs to take a shower.
It was nearly eleven o’clock by time I had toweled myself off and dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. Grabbing my leather jacket, I headed downstairs and out the front door. I had the packet of journal pages, once again back in their manila envelope, inside my jacket and out of sight, just in case I encountered anyone on the way out. It was kind of funny; I really didn’t know where I was headed, I just knew with every fiber of my being, I should get going. As I walked past the Dittmer’s house, I wondered if Allison was there. I made my way downtown and past the store I hoped would soon be the new home to my music business.
I found one of the people I was looking for, just coming out of Bill’s. Justin was talking with one of his friends, Alex, who was also a member of the band he was in. I took out one of the pages from inside of the manila envelope and showed it to Justin. Alex stood just over his shoulder and looked on the page as well. It was interesting to look at their eyes as they took in the information before them. Justin looked up at me and I nodded. He just shook his head slowly, and then he nodded strongly, which said, “I see now,” without even realizing he was doing it. We talked for a little while longer and both of them agreed to keep secret what I had shared with them. I left the two of them to their own plans and headed over to Clayton Miller’s house to see if my dad was around.
I rang the doorbell and Clayton answered. I asked if my dad was around, and he opened the door further, to let me in. Dad was in the kitchen eating a sandwich when I walked in behind Clayton. He put his sandwich down and looked me over. I said, “Hey Dad, got something that you might like to take a look at,” and I tossed the manila envelope down on the table next to the plate holding his sandwich. I left all of the pages in the envelope when I repacked it. I felt it was time to let all things come to a head and hopefully reach a much-needed conclusion. After the last couple of days, I think my father was rightfully hesitant to be opening anything else I had to give him. Earlier in the week, I had already given him the letter Grandpa had left for him in the safe.
I didn’t sit down and he didn’t offer me a chair, either. He looked tired and haggard. I felt badly for him. Strangely, seeing him today felt like the beginnings of a new start and I drew some comfort from it. After what I had read, I couldn’t help but see Dad differently, some things for the better and some for the worse. In the end, I saw him as just a man, burdened by his own choices in life.
I left my dad there with the envelope unopened. I felt lighter, as I shut Clayton’s front door behind me. That familiar tune began to make its way into my head, and I knew I was going to be playing an old friend real soon. I had one last stop to make, and it was going to be the toughest one of them all.
I entered the door of Dittmer’s Fine Crafted Furniture. Stacy was sitting behind a desk back along the far wall, away from the door. I scanned the room and, before I could even say anything, Mrs. Dittmer said, “She isn’t here.” I could tell by her tone it was full of more than just a little concern. I couldn’t blame her. Had it been me, I would have been a whole lot more unforgiving to me. Thank God I wasn’t.
I nodded, and as politely as I could, asked where she was. She looked at me hard before she answered and evidently she saw enough etched in my face for it to soften her resolve.
“Allison and Zach went on a run with Larry to Cedar Rapids. They aren’t due back until supper time tonight.”
I just stood there, not really knowing what to say. “Ok,” was all I could muster. “Please tell her I stopped by to see her, and I’m really glad to be home and I’m happy to be sticking around...” I cut myself off before I continued my ramblings. What I had to say to Allison I needed to say to her and not to her mom. Stacy Dittmer was silent, but as I turned to leave, I was pretty sure I had seen the formation of a smile at the corner of her lips.
I still had lots to do before the funeral in the morning. I headed home to work on my eulogy. Along the way, I began to hum along with the song from the meadow, as it played
in the forefront of
my head. Aunt Marcie was in the living room when I got back. It looked like she’d been taking a nap and I must of woke her up on entering the house. Her hair was squashed where she’d been lying against the pillow. She smiled and then yawned apologetically at me. I yawned back in response and we both laughed. I asked her if she’d talked to Justin yet and she said no.
Tilting her head just like my mom used to do, she asked, “Why?”
“I ran into him and Alex downtown, and I thought maybe they had shared what I showed them.”
“I haven’t seen them,” my aunt Marcie said, stifling another yawn.
“That’s ok. I was just wondering, nothing important,” I tried to say in my most noncommittal way.
Excusing myself, I went upstairs and plopped down on my bed. I could have fallen asleep, as tired as I was, but I knew I needed to work on my eulogy, and it was going to take some time. I got up and grabbed a yellow legal pad out of my desk drawer. Instead of sitting back down on the bed, I sat at the desk. It seemed strange to sit here after all of these years. The last time I had used this pad was when I was designing the heart for Allison. I let it bring thoughts of hope to me now, and for once, I didn’t run from the memories of the past. If I could find within myself the same magic I had back then, my eulogy would be more than just a testament to my grandfather. I got to work.
Several hours later, and many crumpled piles of waste paper, I felt like I was getting close to what I wanted. I needed a break and sat down on the bed with my guitar. After my fingers loosened up, I fell into the melody that seemed to be so much a part of me. After awhile, I heard a soft knock on my door. I kept playing and answered to whoever was out there, “Come in.”
My Aunt Marcie opened the door slowly and then cautiously made her way into the room. I nodded at her, as I continued to play. She stood at the end of my bed and closed her eyes, as she listened to the music ebbing from my guitar. I played for several minutes and then laid the guitar on the bed. Aunt Marcie opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“I really like it,” she said appraisingly.
“Thanks,” I replied back.
Using my head, I gestured to the note pad on the desk. Aunt Marcie walked over and picked up the pad. As she started to read, I went back to playing the guitar. She finished reading it and turned to face me. He eyes were
bright
, and I could tell she was doing her best to
keep her emotions under control
.
She gave me a half-smile and said, “Its great, Jason, your Grandfather would be so proud!”
I continued to play my guitar, the melody changing and evolving as I did. I locked my eyes with hers and gave her a sad smile of my own. Aunt Marcie leaned over and kissed the top of my head, then she left my bedroom, shutting the door behind her. I played on for a couple more hours, always refining the melody. It became a better verse, and then a power chorus and finally a refrain that magnified all the emotion I could put into it.
When I was done playing, I went back to my desk and wrote down the musical chords and melodies on the pad. I had played it so often, it was easy to transpose it from my brain to the paper. It was almost like I was a transcriptionist, watching myself play the notes and then writing them down on the yellow pad. It only needed one thing: a title. It had always been there, right before me in all my dreams and memories. I knew it even before my mind could think about it. With the pencil in my hand I watched as I wrote, “The Heart is Key.” I opened the door to my room just as my Aunt Marcie was coming upstairs. I showed her the completed song, and she nodded in approval as she scanned and absorbed the silent music on the page. I yawned and told her I was heading to bed; if she wanted she could look at it some more and then give it to me in the morning. She kissed me on my cheek and headed towards her room. In the morning
,
when I awoke,
it
had been returned to
my desk.
Chapter 31
I actually slept really well during the night and woke early, with the sun shining in my window. It was six-thirty, and I could already hear sounds of movement coming from below me. I dressed and headed downstairs. Everyone was up, including Justin. The three of them were sitting at the table drinking coffee. I plucked a cup out of the cupboard and helped myself to a brimming full cup. My Aunt Marcie must have made it because it was stronger than normal, but still not Grandpa Jake caliber. She smiled when she saw my eyebrows furrow.
“Good, Huh?”
I nodded and took another sip. My Great Aunt Vicky announced that the bus was going to be leaving at nine sharp, if anyone wanted to tag along with her. I shook my head, and told her I had a couple of things to finish up first. I said I would see her at the church by nine-thirty to take my place and help welcome the guests. Aunt Marcie and Justin both declined her offer, too, saying as well that they had a couple of things to look after before going to the church.
Great Aunt Vicky gave each of us one of her investigatory stares and then said, “Suit yourself. Just don’t be late!”
In chorus we responded with, “No Ma’am,” and even Great Aunt Vicky couldn’t stop herself from laughing along with us.
It was pretty obvious none of us were in the mood for a big breakfast. I opened the refrigerator and got out the milk. I went to the cupboard where the cereal had always been kept and found a box of
Cheerios.
After getting a bowl out of the cupboard, next to the sink, I filled it with cereal and added the milk. I made my way over to the table and set my bowl down as I slid into a chair. Justin looked at my cereal bowl and decided that he was going to have some too. The two of us finished off the rest of the cereal between us. While we were eating, Aunt Marcie excused herself to go take a shower and get ready. I told Justin he could use my shower as soon as I was done and he mumbled something through a mouth full of cereal that sounded like, “ok.”
I finished my shower and put on my dress clothes. When I opened the closet, I could see that my pants and a new white shirt and been freshly ironed. I assumed it had come courtesy of Great Aunt Vicky and not the work of our maid, which we didn’t have as far as I knew. I was grateful she was around. She’d taken all of the responsibility on and made sure everything was done and done right.
I tied my tie and then put on my suit coat. I looked at my reflection, in the picture hanging on the wall over my desk. It wasn’t the best view available; Justin was already in the shower, so it would have to do. I noticed I still needed a haircut, but it was too late now. I had to get going, so I hastily wrote a note for Justin and tossed it on the floor where he’d see it when he came out of the bathroom.
I left by the front door and walked the eight blocks to the church. Pastor James Richardson was just inside the large double doors. I caught his attention and he came over to me. We talked for several minutes, and then he put both of his large hands, one on each of my shoulders. Together, we bowed our heads as he offered a private prayer for my grandfather. I thanked him and left the church. I only had an hour before I needed to be back and I went in search of Allison.
I’d looked in the phone directory and there was a listing for an A. Dittmer. I was never as glad as I was when I saw the listing still had her using her given name. Her apartment was downtown over the furniture store her parents owned. It made perfect sense to me. I hoped she would still be there and not at her parents’ house. This time, I wanted to only talk to her. There was a door at the street level that opened up on a long flight of stairs. The door was unlocked and, when I stepped inside, there was only one mailbox. I assumed there would be other apartments upstairs. I chose not to ring the bell by her mailbox and climbed the stairs making as little sound as possible. I didn’t know why, maybe the fear that if she was home and heard me she might flee out the fire escape.
I crested the top of the stairs and looked around. There were four doors running down the hallway to the left off the landing. I started down the hallway and stopped in front of the first door on my left. I didn’t need to go farther; this was Allison and Zach’s door. It was decorated with a springtime theme, and it was the only door with a welcome mat in front of it. I only hesitated for a second before I knocked on the door.
Instantly I heard noise on the other side. When the door opened, Allison stood before me dressed in a conservative black dress. Her hair was pulled back and braided, and she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her face registered shock as she stood facing me. Someone had been expected, but it wasn’t me. Mercifully, she didn’t shut the door in my face. The color drained from her cheeks and, for a moment, I thought she might actually faint. She sucked in some much needed air and got a handle on her emotions. We stood looking at each other, neither of us breaking the silence.