Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief

by Edward Curnutte

  “Look, Joseph, it’s important for you to know that I’ve been given power of attorney, which means that since your brother has become incapacitated, I am authorized to act on his behalf and manage his affairs. However, between you and me, you should know that your brother has become very difficult to work with over the past few months. Then he told me his plans for this place! To my mind it’s not only a bad business decision on his part, but it’s being done out of pure spitefulness. There needs to be some level-headed thought to this and it certainly shouldn’t be done in such haste. Furthermore, I’m not anxious to put you and Alex on the street nor to put the café out of business. Therefore, I’m suspending the sale pending his recovery. If he doesn’t recover in, say, six months or, God forbid, if he dies, we can deal with it all then. In other words, now is not the right time.”

  “Well, all right, I understand, and thank you, Clive. Please tell Clara and Owen that I hope George recovers quickly. Also, please keep me informed of any changes in his condition. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

  “Very well,” said Brewster, getting up. “Good day to you.”

  “Good day, Clive.”

  Brewster tipped his hat and departed the café.

  After a few moments, Marcie joined Joseph at his table, a worried expression on her face.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing George’s business partner! What on earth?” she said.

  “Now, now, Marcie, let’s just take each day at a time. Our plan is still in effect. We’re still building a new restaurant next year. If this café remains open until then, we’ll all keep right on working. In the meantime, let’s hope George recovers. From what I know about apoplexy though, each one is different but the damage can be life long.”

  “Well, boss, I truly know about apoplexy, that I do. My little brother, God rest his soul, died of apoplexy when he was only ten.”

  * * *

  During lunchtime Alexandra found the perfect opportunity to talk to Emma. They stood outside near the corner of the building where Alexandra was sure no one could overhear them.

  “Do you know how Owen found out about the visions?”

  “No, I don’t,” Emma whispered. “I didn’t tell him anything! Honest!”

  “I didn’t think you would. I’d just like to know how he could’ve found out about them.”

  “I don’t know. For a while I was worried you were going to blame me, but when I went to your party yesterday we didn’t even talk about it. So no, I didn’t tell him, I didn’t tell anyone! In fact, Owen didn’t even ask. Perhaps he found out about it another way.”

  “You’re a good friend, Emma. I knew I could trust you. I also know you didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh,” Emma said, squinting one eye, “you probably had a vision about me yesterday when you played! I understand. Do you get visions everytime you play?”

  “No, but I did have a vision about you yesterday, and not just you. But honestly, I don’t get visions everytime and I don’t get them with everyone. I really can’t explain it.”

  “Oh? You got some visions yesterday?”

  “Well yes, of course, but don’t ask me to give you details! I won’t ever do that! I told Papa – and I’m telling you – that I could never become a gossip like old Mrs. Tellier or Mrs. Labonte,” she said, shuddering her shoulders.

  Emma laughed as she spoke. “I’m just glad you didn’t put Mrs. Brindle on your list!”

  Alexandra smiled at Emma and looked down. After a few moments she looked up again and continued. “I don’t want to get a bad reputation like Owen has. It’s really awful. Also, Papa told me that if the police find out about my visions, that I could spend my life playing music for criminals and getting horrible visions about what they did.”

  “Maybe that’s not bad,” said Emma. “You would be helping people, solving crimes, doing good things in the world!”

  “But I can do good things in other ways. I still want to be a concert violinist, Emma, and I want to travel around the world and see all the great sights. I want to go to London, the one with Big Ben, and visit Sir Charles and his wife. After that I’ll go Paris, Vienna, Salzburg, Venice and all the other great capitals of Europe!”

  “Oh, it’s great to have a wonderful dream and talent, Aydy!”

  “I never wanted to be ordinary,” said Alexandra. “I can’t be happy with an ordinary life. So many people have such dull, boring and predictable lives. It’s even worse for women. It seems most become teachers, seamstresses or secretaries, while others become nuns, waitresses or housewives!”

  “What’s wrong with that? Many women like those jobs. My mama is one of them!”

  “Oh many do! But it’s not for me. I love music, dancing, poetry and art. I also like people with creative imaginations. It would be horrible if I got married to someone with no sense of adventure, someone who wants a quiet family life in Essex County, someone who’s never been anywhere more than ten miles from his home and has no desire to go anywhere or do anything. It would be the same as a beautiful songbird kept in a cage.”

  Emma stood with her eyes fixed on Alexandra.

  “What’s wrong?” said Alexandra.

  “I’ve never thought anything like that,” said Emma. “It’s all too strange for me. But I was wondering something. Do you think the Maestro would take on another student or two? I think I’d like to try playing the violin, and we both know Robbie does. Could you ask the Maestro if he’d take us on?”

  “Oh Emma, I’m so happy! Of course I’ll ask! I’ll ask him real nice and I’m sure he’ll say yes!” she beamed, hugging her before they both returned to their classroom.

  When the school day finished, Alexandra was pleased to see her father waiting for her, as always. He paced back and forth as if he were nervous about something.

  “Hi, Papa! Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “Your Uncle George suffered an attack of apoplexy last night. Do you know what that is?”

  Alexandra wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t.”

  “It can be different things, but in this situation it’s a sudden stoppage of blood to the brain. If it can’t be treated quickly and properly, it can be very, very dangerous,” said Joseph.

  “Oh my land! Is he going to be all right?”

  “No one can know right now. The doctors are doing all they can. I’ve offered to go visit him, but he’s not being allowed any visitors at the moment.”

  “That explains why Owen wasn’t at school today. Do you know how it happened?”

  “Not all the details. Uncle George’s business partner came to the café and said he’d collapsed at home. He also said that because of this, the sale of the café has been delayed.”

  “Aunt Clara didn’t tell you herself?”

  “No, I expect she’s at the hospital with your uncle. Knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been up all night.”

  * * *

  Clara had indeed been up all night, somehow managing to function without any sleep. However, her physical exhaustion had little bearing on her will as she sought not only her husband’s survival, but his recovery. At that time she saw fit to pay a visit to the café with Owen.

  “Are Joseph and Alexandra in?” Clara asked Marcie upon entering.

  “I expect they’ll be here soon. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee – but please make it twice as strong – and black,” she said as she sat down next to Owen at a table near the window.

  “I’ll have it for you shortly,” Marcie said before going to the kitchen.

  Clara turned her attention to Owen. “I expect you to stay respectful, young man. If we ever make it through this it’ll only be by the grace of God.” In a matter of minutes Marcie returned with the requested cup of coffee. As Clara sipped the bitter drink, she saw the door of the café swing open and Joseph and Alexandra enter. They walked straight up to her table.

  “Clara, I’
m sorry to hear about George,” said Joseph, his arm around Alexandra, who had a worried look on her face. The girl said nothing.

  “Thank you, Joseph,” said Clara, still feeling haggard and worn. “He’s in hospital, resting, but we don’t know what’ll happen next. Joseph, and Alexandra, I have to ask you something.”

  Father and daughter looked at each other then took chairs opposite Clara and Owen, Joseph pulling a chair out for Alexandra to sit on. “Go ahead,” said Joseph.

  “We know Alexandra gets visions when she plays her violin. There’s no use denying it.”

  “Really? What makes you think so?” Joseph said, cocking an eyebrow.

  Clara immediately recognized that gesture. It was the same one George made whenever he pretended not to understand someone’s question. “Don’t get coy with me, Joseph. I know because George told us all about it. He knew it all along. He told us his father used to get visions when he played the violin, and now Alexandra gets them. These visions are about different people and that she probably got one about him and what happened in the farmhouse many years ago. He also said that the instrument has probably bewitched your daughter and that’s why she plays so well. Think about it, Joseph, really, nobody would listen to her if she played badly, so in order for people to want to listen and for her to get into their thoughts and memories, she would have to play it well.”

  Joseph interlocked his fingers together on the table and leaned forward. “Look, even if what you say is true, how does it matter? Suppose she does get visions. Would she tell everybody about them? Who’d ever believe her? Besides, ever since she was a little girl she’s always wanted to play music and become a professional musician. She has a God-given gift and by God, she’s using it.”

  Clara cut straight to the point. “Joseph, she could ruin us if she starts spreading rumours and gossip. Now I want to tell you what happened last night at our home with George.”

  Joseph leaned back in his chair and motioned towards her to continue.

  “Very well,” she said. “First of all, Owen came home yesterday and told us everything that happened at school. He was very upset by Alexandra’s rude behaviour and the awful way she mocked and belittled him in front of the whole class – especially when he tried to wish her a happy birthday!”

  Alexandra pursed her lips and hardened her eyes into two narrow slits. “Well, Owen, if you don’t become a lawyer, you’ll probably have a fine career as one of those horrible politicians,” she said, voice red with anger.

  “Alexandra!” said Joseph. “Mind your tongue!”

  “Papa, he’s lying! Can’t you see? That’s not what happened at all!”

  “It’s not the time or place, Alex. We’ll talk about it later. Let your aunt continue.”

  Owen sneered at his cousin, but Clara ignored it. “You know, Joseph, we are honest people. My husband – your brother – is an honest man. We don’t resort to witchcraft or magic tricks to get ahead in this world. We’ve earned everything we have and don’t owe anyone anything. It has never been easy for us. We’ve taken a lot of risks in our lives and we continue to do so. George told us some time ago about the visions which are connected with this violin, and last night he wanted to prove it by opening the case and showing us the violin. He said if you looked carefully at it, you could see the magic. But as soon as he lifted the lid, he collapsed.”

  “My God,” said Joseph, voice full of mockery. “What a coincidence! Has it occurred to you that apoplexy strikes without warning? Or maybe you’re suggesting an antique violin caused George to collapse? I’m sorry to hear about all this, Clara, but what can I do?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything, Joseph. I want Alexandra to go to the hospital and play her violin in front of George. Then I want her to report to us what she sees.”

  Joseph sat back in his chair laughing. “She’d go there and do what? Play her violin for a sick man? Steal his memories, as you say?”

  “Joseph, please don’t make light of this,” she said, barely able to restrain tears. “The doctors are doing all they can, but if he dies, the opportunity to find out what magic, or even vision, made him collapse will be lost forever. How could you live with that?”

  “Would you know the truth if you heard it?” he said, but casting an accusing look at the boy seated next to her. “More than that, would you even believe it? Clara, I’m very sorry George has taken ill, but I cannot and will not permit my daughter to subject herself to these ridiculous fantasies of yours.”

  “Aydy! There you are!” said a happy, barrel-chested man walking into the café. “Where’ve you been? Can you play a song for us, please?”

  “It’s not the best time, Mr. McKay,” said Alexandra.

  Clara studied the girl. “Well, why don’t you play something for him? We’ll listen.”

  Owen made an attempt to stand up, but Clara put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. The boy huffed but remained in his seat.

  “It’s up to you, Angel,” said Joseph.

  Alexandra nodded, rose from her chair, and departed for the stairs. While she was gone, Joseph shook his head at Clara. “Don’t expect anything from her.”

  Alexandra returned with her violin and stood at the man’s table. She started playing some peppy Irish dance music, which Clara thought was a strange contrast to the girl’s mood. Nevertheless, the music had the effect of brightening the mood in the café – especially where the Delmotts were seated. Clara, still feeling drained, looked on as the girl smiled and went from table to table, playing with an easy, effortless grace.

  As she watched, she allowed her mind to wander away with Alexandra’s music. Her thoughts soon left that of her husband, and began dwelling on a simple truth: Joseph was indeed doing a splendid job raising Alexandra. Moreover, he was doing it alone. Clara looked at the man as he watched his daughter with pride. She studied him, developing a new sense of respect for him. She soon thought about her own situation, of how she and George were raising Owen. True, Owen did have her and George, but despite this fact they were doing a terrible job. She realized that Owen was being neglected as their energies were being focused on social standing, a big career and property acquisitions. Their Owen was, in fact, growing up without any parents at all and she and George were merely caretakers. She could see the result of their parental failure sitting right next to her – a jealous, spiteful, lonely bully who was becoming exactly like his father.

  When Alexandra performed at the Delmott table, she stood and played a cheery melody. Clara watched as the smiling girl played; her violin singing with crisp, bright freshness.

  After Alexandra finished, she smiled and curtsied. Customers politely applauded her, including the large man who had asked her to play. Clara stood up and motioned for her to come closer, embracing the girl with an affection she hadn’t shown her in ages. “Well done, Alexandra,” she said, still embracing her. “Very well done.”

  Alexandra cupped her hand around Clara’s ear. Her voice was warm and fresh. “It’s not too late for them.”

  Chapter 24

  The next several days saw no changes in George’s condition. He was unable to speak, move about or even feed himself. When he wasn’t sleeping, he spent long periods of time with his eyes open staring into the blankness of space. Clara, upon the advice of George’s doctors, made the painful decision to transfer him the hundred or so miles to hospital in London, where he could receive better care. As the autumn months passed by and December arrived, she and Owen would take the train up on Fridays where they would spend each weekend together, returning on Sunday nights.

  In the meantime, Delphis’ violin remained safely stored at George and Clara’s house. However, Clara and Owen wanted nothing to do with it, fearing any special powers it might possess.

  * * *

  After the café closed one night, Joseph went up to Alexandra’s room to bid her goodnight. He knocked and entered, finding everything as usual. Her lamp glowed on her bedside table as she lay in bed readin
g a book. Joseph sat on the side of her bed, and Alexandra put the open book face down in front of her.

  “How’s the book?”

  “It’s a book of poems by Robert Browning; it’s the one Sir Charles gave me. Browning writes such lovely poetry; it’s almost the same as music, or even art. You can get lost in it,” she said, smiling.

  “Is there anything there I’d be interested in?”

  “Oh yes, there are so many wonderful poems – and lots of philosophy. I’m sure you’d enjoy it! But now I want to tell you about the visions I had of Aunt Clara and Owen when they came to the café.”

  “All right, Angel,” he said, “but why did you wait two weeks to tell me?”

  Alexandra shuffled herself up to a sitting position. “I can’t explain it, Papa. I had a strong feeling that it wasn’t the right time to tell you. Believe me, I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you.”