AT 29 Read online

  Peggy put her hand on his. “I would have given anything to see you.”

  Jimmy paused, taken by her touch and how wonderful it felt. The truth rolled off his lips before he knew it

  “It wasn’t meant to be for us, Peg.”

  “You mean because I met Joe? He knows I’m with you right now.”

  “You told him about me?”

  “I said you were a friend that I haven’t seen for a long time.”

  “Trusting guy.”

  “We love each other. Seeing you again isn’t going to change that.”

  “I knew you were in love with me. I didn’t have the courage to tell you I was leaving. I couldn’t face hurting you. I was a coward.”

  Peggy squeezed his hand and put her cheek to his. “I think about you everyday; how you’re doing, what’s going on in your life. I read the trades for news about Jimmy Button.”

  “You know when I missed you the most?”

  “I was afraid you never missed me at all.”

  “No, Peg. Maybe it wasn’t love for me, but you were still the most important person in my life. When the band was on the road. Everybody thinks touring is a glamorous circuit from city to city; bright lights, pretty girls, luxurious hotels and adoring fans. Actually it’s a gantlet. I don’t know how the big ones handle it year after year. Of course, my band wasn’t in their league, but the issues had to be the same. Once, in Indiana, my drummer brought a stash of cocaine onto the stage. Then in the middle of a song he stopped playing and took a snort in front of five hundred people. It took a year to get him cleaned up, but he was never the same after that. He was constantly fighting against his habit, fighting with the other guys and mostly fighting with me. And, it all started when a hanger on somewhere got him hooked.

  “The booze took me down. By the time Lulu became a hit, I was knocking down a fifth of scotch before noon every day. Then I’d start again as soon as the show was over at night. Basically, I was drunk twenty-four hours a day. When I couldn’t write anymore, I’d hear your voice in my head, bright and confident, telling me how everything would turn out okay. It didn’t. Here I sit.”

  “Alice said you were in a relationship.”

  “Went the same way as the band.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Cindy.”

  “Did alcohol push her away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No.”

  “After you disappeared, I began to wonder about that part of you. Most people, when they form a bond, find it hard to walk away. It didn’t make sense to me that anyone could just cut it off without a word. People need closure. I certainly did. Last night, after Skip called, I knew I was going to find you and get it once and for all. I pretty much told Joe that was it.”

  “He must be waiting and wondering right now.”

  “He knows I’m coming back. No worries there, but he’ll be curious. I’ll tell him everything. By the way, he’s a fan.”

  “Knows some of the music?”

  “Knows all of your music, has every record, played the Rathskeller in North Troy just like you. The difference is he can’t sing. The first time we met, he was on onstage, guitar held up high like you, singing Lulu of all things. Here’s this imposter, sitting in your place, trying with all his heart to sound like you. I told him, too. He just laughed and agreed with me. A few minutes later, he came over and asked for my phone number. Alice on the way in six months.”

  “Nice story. I thought you were saving yourself.”

  “You mean pregnant before I was married? I knew he was the one. I wasn’t waiting anymore. What exactly did you do to this girl, Cindy?”

  “I let her take the heat. I was never into all the acting that goes with the public persona. Half the time I was drunk. I’d say or do something embarrassing and she would be there to pick up the pieces.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “She was in love with me. That’s why she withstood all the crazy things I did. She has a stellar reputation in the industry. Smart, good with people and just plain beautiful. I was dragging her down.”

  “Now? Apart from getting off scotch, what have you been doing with yourself?”

  “Thinking through what to do now that my career is over.”

  Peggy raised her eyebrows. “Why do you think it’s over?”

  “Because I’m a blank slate.”

  She brushed his words away with a sweep of her hand. “That’s ridiculous! Other than focusing on your drinking problem, you’ve done nothing to get your music back on track?”

  “True enough.”

  “Have you been playing, keeping your fingers nimble during this self-imposed exile?”

  “I got reacquainted with the Gibson.”

  “That’s good. It means you can’t be away from your music for long. So, like I asked earlier, what’s your plan?”

  Jimmy tossed his head back and laughed. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  Peggy stood. “We need to go. I can’t be late for the girls. No, that’s your assignment. You think about the answer while we’re hiking back.”

  When they reached the bottom of the mountain Jimmy walked her to her car. Peggy turned to face him.

  “Well, what have you decided?”

  “To try writing some new music.”

  “In my heart I know your career isn’t over. It’s taking a new direction.” She came forward and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh Jimmy, I missed you so much.”

  He held her tight not wanting to let go. “What happens now?”

  “You come to dinner and meet Joe and the girls. Then go back to New York and write music. Produce that musical you always dreamed about. Do it, Jimmy. I know you can.” He held the car door for her, relieved. She started the car. “Six o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Peggy’s husband, if he had any misgivings about his wife’s reconnecting with an old friend, didn’t show it. The two men wandered through the barn, among the pure bred Holsteins filling the stalls. Alice and Charlene followed, occasionally asking questions about the stranger who had come to dinner. They headed back when Peggy summoned them over the intercom. Charlene nonchalantly took Jimmy’s hand, leading the way.

  “Got a little bit of her Aunt Alice in her,” Joe said, with a laugh. “Sees a man and heads straight for him.”

  Hillary and Red walked across the field that stretched between the two properties and seated themselves at the dinner table opposite Jimmy. They tried to hide their curiosity, but their constant glances were too obvious. They gave up by dessert and peppered him with questions.

  After the meal, Hillary, Joe and the girls took over the chore of cleaning up while Red retired to the living room. Peggy knew Jimmy wanted to leave. She stood by his side as he said his good-byes, and then walked him out to the porch and down the steps.

  “Nice family, I’m grateful Hillary didn’t come at me with a frying pan.”

  Peggy laughed. “Never, she likes you. She was disappointed when I didn’t bring you back that day.”

  “And, Joe?”

  “He and I have a date tonight. Like I said, we’ll dissect everything about today.”

  Jimmy took hold of the car door handle. “I wish I could take back the years.”

  Peggy touched his shoulder, turning him back to look at her.

  “Everything is going to be all right, Jimmy. You’ll find your way. Just remember to keep in touch. I’m counting on you.” She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand. Before letting go, she forced him to meet her eyes and whispered, “We must never lose each other again.”

  Back in his cabin, unable to sleep, he took up the Gibson, and created a new song, his first in a very long time. He called it ‘Peg’.

  Nineteen

  Unlike his nervous mother, Aaron felt only relief as the ship turned back to Melbourne. He had faced the long voyage to America with trepidation, doing it only for Melba b
ecause he knew she wanted to see her family again. His preference had always been to remain home and to be returning brought him only pleasure. His youth also engendered an unrealistic view of war. No doubt, what was happening in Europe was a righteous fight where men could prove their valor, defeat the enemy and return to the cheers of their countrymen. He fantasized about what he would do if he were in the army, carrying a weapon as he joined his fellow soldiers on a mission to free others from tyranny. He’d read about the many wars and pivotal battles that his British brothers had waged for King and Country. The Boer War, most recent, and not so very far away, captured his imagination. He devoured every book he could find about the conflict that finally tamed the hated Dutch rebels and solidified English dominance. The heroic dispatches, penned by Winston Churchill, had galvanized all of Australia. The narratives of the writer’s own travails especially captivated Aaron as the young Churchill valiantly played cat and mouse with the Boers who scoured the country, trying to find and kill him so that the truth of their atrocities would be silenced. That all wars produce atrocities on both sides, never occurred to Aaron.

  Safely back on the farm, he hid his contentment from his mother who fretted over her own concerns that hostile ships might sail into Apollo Bat at any moment. News from Europe was scant. Together, they took weekly rides into the village on horseback, using the pretense that the shop needed tending although it was carefully buttoned up in advance of their aborted trip to America. Each knew the real reason was to learn anything they could about the far off war. Newspapers from Sydney and Melbourne carried accounts of battles in unknown locales across the continent. Melba read and re-read each story, wondering if America might also join the fray. She worried for her younger brother, only a few years older than Aaron. Would he find himself in a uniform? The thought made her shudder as she envisioned her mother, waiting and worrying day and night. That Aaron might seek his own uniform was unthinkable. Apart from the Japanese threat that was more imagined than real, Australia had little to fear from the conflict. It was too isolated and distant to be of any concern to the European nations at war.

  As the months passed, more detailed accounts began to arrive. It was increasingly apparent that this was becoming a war unlike any other. Unimaginable casualties were mounting on both sides. New machines, carrying gigantic guns, obliterated whole landscapes, annihilating anything in their path. The fight that had been predicted to end swiftly was now a protracted duel of deep trenches, dug amidst barren terrain strewn with broken trees and scattered with the bloated bodies of the dead. Thousands were dying in single battles as leaders, equipped with outmoded tactics, compelled their men into the sights of horrifically efficient machine guns, only to be mowed down, limbs shorn from their torsos in a sea of blood. America remained on the sidelines, showing little taste for the horror, but Australia and its tiny neighbor to the east were agitated. Communications and consultations between the leaders of both Commonwealth Dominions had reached a feverish pitch. What to do?

  England’s military and political leaders, including Churchill, who served as First Lord of the Admiralty, searched for a way to break the deadlock. Churchill convinced his colleagues that a successful assault on the Dardanelles, controlled by Germany’s ally, Turkey, could open a path up the peninsula and enable British and French forces to supply the Russian army, attacking from the east. More troops were needed.

  As plans for the assault were hastily developed, a call went out to Britain’s allies, especially in the Asia/Pacific. The leaders of the Australian Federation and New Zealand’s small, but competent military corps that had distinguished itself during the Boer War were called upon to enter the campaign. The two sparsely populated lands were eager to comply. The call up enticed thousands of young men from all corners of Australia. For most, this was an adventure. Few of those who rushed to volunteer at makeshift recruitment centers across the country had ever been more than twenty kilometers from their place of birth. This was their chance to see the world and come home with exciting stories about their exploits. From shore to shore the continent’s youth rose up.

  Aaron signed up at the tiny recruitment office in Apollo Bay. When he left early in the morning to make his way to the village, Melba was still asleep. He told her nothing of his plan. He had no stomach for the endless argument that would have ensued. He felt guilty about keeping such an important decision from his mother, but he knew she would rail against his wish, using every tool at her disposal, including tears, to break his resolve. This time he was determined to overcome her influence and find his own way. It was not that he did not love his mother. He did with all the same reverence that most sons held for the first important woman in their life. However, as her only child and fatherless, despite his surrogate grandfather’s tutelage, she dominated his life, clinging to him with a mixture of love and fear that all but smothered. In three days he would travel by train to the army training ground outside Sydney. He girded his emotions to weather the storm of rebuke he would have to endure thankful that it would only be a few days.

  The shock of her son’s enlistment tore through Melba almost as painfully as the heartbreak that gripped her when her husband went silent at sea. Over the next three days she visited an assortment of emotions upon Aaron, from earsplitting bursts of outrage to heart wrenching tears of anguish. Stoically, Aaron withstood her onslaught, knowing the decision was made and there was nothing she could do. He hated the hurt in her voice, but he was determined to step forward as his own man. He had unwavering confidence that the war in Europe was being waged for the very soul of his English heritage. He had to be a part of it. And, like his fellow Australians who viewed themselves as Brits first regardless of the 1901 establishment of the Australian Federation, he had total confidence in the superiority of the British military. It could not be defeated. Only triumph and glory awaited any man who joined the fight.

  Melba knew better. She never understood the blind allegiance that the people of Australia held for Mother England. As an American she had been taught about the Revolutionary War, fought so desperately on the Massachusetts mainland, not far from Nantucket’s shores. She knew even more of the War of 1812 because many of the families who had populated her island could tell tales of their forebears who had been unceremoniously kidnapped into naval servitude on the high seas by British warships. Even the Civil War was a bone of contention in the minds of those island families who gave up their sons to the Union. Did England unite with the North to defeat the hated slavery of the South? Had it done so, how many graves out on Prospect Hill might never have been necessary? To her, the English were a callous people, only too ready to sacrifice the citizens of other lands in dubious, if not, blatant attempts to dominate the commerce of the world. She saw this obscene war in Europe as more of the same. Silly arguments between arrogant monarchs, sold to naïve countrymen on both sides as a great battle between good and evil. That England was also the world’s most dogged advocate for the rule of law and democracy escaped her reasoning.

  On the last day Aaron patiently listened as his mother finally lowered her voice and softly catalogued all that might be lost if he went on this dangerous adventure, including his life. He did not attempt to reason with her. He knew she was overwhelmed with emotion. There was no use trying to make her understand that he felt an obligation to defend the principles of his heritage. She did not go with him to the village where military transports waited to bring him and others from his region to Melbourne where they would board a train for Sydney. Both mother and son believed the strain would be too hard. As the moment of his departure approached Melba swallowed her fears, busying herself with the things that mothers do when their children are about to leave. She prepared a hearty breakfast and sat with him as he ate at the small table in the kitchen. When he was done she cleared the dishes and prepared more food for him to take with him on the train. His recruitment officer had instructed him not to bring personal items, as they would not be needed. Apart from being certain that his
clothes were cleaned and pressed she had little else to do.

  Conversation came hard. Their thoughts were occupied with different concerns. Aaron tried to calm his nerves as he thought about where he was going, so far from home. He had seen Melbourne only once as a boy. His memory of the city was obscured by the wonder of its sheer size. Sydney, he knew, was much larger. The prospect of the military training also filled him with curiosity and nervousness. He had never held a gun. In battle he would be called upon to shoot at other men. Could he do it? Could he kill? His mind was far away as he sat with his mother in the cottage his grandfather built.

  Melba resigned herself to a fate she never expected. With the deaths of her husband’s surrogate parents, she had spent much of her time considering what should be done with the farm. Eventually, it would belong to Aaron. Still, she wanted more for him, perhaps in her own country where the opportunities seemed endless. Secretly, this had been one of her reasons for wanting to take him home to her family on Nantucket. She wanted him to see another land where his imagination might be piqued and some new destiny found. If their sailing had not been aborted, she knew they would already be safe with her mother and father. The war would be far off and Aaron would be occupied with wondrous new things to consider. Now, she had to decide what to do as she worried for her child. She could fend for herself on the farm, but certainly the market in Apollo Bay would remain closed. Should she stay while he was away? That was the central question. Could she endure the silence and loneliness? ‘Damn this infernal war,’ she whispered, to herself. ‘Damn the men who made it happen, damn them for taking Aaron.’

  As the moment arrived for him to leave she buried her thoughts and gazed up at his face, smiling with all the courage she could muster. Aaron smiled back, taking her hand and raising her from the table. Their embrace lingered as each held the other tight. He kissed her forehead, ignoring the tears that glistened in her eyes. Then he turned and stepped through the door. Melba watched, heart breaking, as he ambled down the path, turning one last time to wave before he trudged around the bend and out of sight.