Crescendo

by Allen Cheney

  With great relief, Winnie and Fred watched as the medical staff gave Allison intravenous fluids and a strong course of antibiotics. The next day, once the streets had been cleared by snowplows, the family left in a cab with prescriptions to keep the bacteria at bay.

  After two long and sleepless nights, Fred went to class, and Winnie called her mother.

  Mrs. Langley tried to calm Winnie’s nerves, but having worked for an internist all those years, she, too, was worried about her granddaughter’s health. She listened patiently as Winnie shared her frustrations over the phone.

  “I don’t want to lose another day of pay, but I can’t send Allison to school like this. I’ve called the entire list of sitters. No luck.”

  “Oh, honey. I should be there,” Nell said. Then, after a pause, she added, “How would you feel about me coming up for a while?”

  Winnie’s tone lifted. “You’d be able to do that?” As much as she prided herself for being independent, she couldn’t hide her relief.

  “Well, I’ll have to talk to Dr. Dillard, of course, but you know how good he is to us. Surely I can arrange a leave of absence, long enough to help you nurse her back to health.”

  After the hospital visit, Allison’s infections continued, and the stress continued to build for Fred and Winnie. Stretched thin under the increasing life pressures, they were relieved when Nell booked her flight to New York.

  “Six weeks’ leave,” Nell said, throwing her arms around her daughter and holding Winnie tight at the airport. They had always maintained a close relationship, but now Winnie needed real help, and her mother was there to deliver. There were no questions asked. No guilt imposed. Nell was genuinely happy to spend six straight weeks with her granddaughter and eager to help the young couple.

  With her mother in town, Winnie was able to focus on work and catch the family up financially. Fred was able to put his full attention back on school and church, and all seemed to be in balance again, even if precariously so. As those days turned to weeks, Allison slowly showed signs of improving. Then before they knew it, Nell’s leave was nearly up, and it became time to decide the next steps.

  One evening, Winnie and Nell were organizing Allison’s toys. “I’m so happy you’ve been here, Mother. I can’t even think about you leaving.”

  “She’s getting better now, honey.” Nell stacked puzzles onto a shelf. “Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”

  Winnie sighed. “I’m worried, Mother. She still has nosebleeds, and I just can’t shake the feeling . . . she could have died!” This was the first time she’d voiced those fears, and the truth pinched her words to a low, soft place. “Crazy thing is . . . my whole life, all I ever wanted was to move somewhere like this. And now that I’m here . . .”

  Nell listened patiently.

  Allison’s laughter flowed from the living room, where she and Fred were playing a new card game. Winnie leaned from the tiny bedroom, observing how Allison worshipped her father and feeling grateful Fred never shorted her his affection or attention.

  As Winnie returned to sorting a cradle of dolls, the church bells rang from Riverside. “It’s not that I don’t like it here. I do. Truly, I do. Allison loves her school. The kids are cultured and advanced. She’s seen so many things already. Museums and performances and all the new foods. It’s been a good experience for her. Don’t you think? For all of us?”

  “Honey, of course I do.” Nell put the final puzzle box into its proper place and began to rearrange the picture books. “You know what your daddy always says. If you ever have the chance to get an education or to travel, you best take it.”

  “Exactly. And that’s why we’re here. To make the most of these opportunities.”

  Nell sensed the sadness behind Winnie’s tone. The somber notes said more than the words that carried them. “But?”

  Winnie sighed and placed Allison’s favorite doll atop her pillow. “But . . . we never imagined Allison would get sick. I don’t know if it’s the germs at school or just city life in general, but she was never ill back at home.”

  Her mother nodded. “Something to think about.”

  “Well, that’s just it. I have been thinking. And I’m thinking that maybe Allison and I should move back to Columbus for a while. Fred and I have discussed it. As much as we don’t want to be apart, we think it might be best if I find the right care for her back there, where the doctors know and love her.”

  A long pause settled between them as Winnie leaned through the doorway to take another peek at Fred and Allison. They were telling jokes and playing cards as if all was safe in their world. But Winnie couldn’t quiet her fears. That night in the emergency room still haunted her.

  “You know you’re welcome to stay with us, sweetie. If you think that’s for the best.”

  Winnie turned off the lamp on the nightstand, her eyes still locked on Fred and Allison. “I don’t know what’s best, Mother. All I know is, we want our daughter to be well again. She’s our whole world.”

  Nell brushed Winnie’s hair back with a tender hand. “Talk it over a little more with Fred. Maybe you can get Allison through the school year and then come home, even if it’s just for the summer. Might lift your spirits a bit and give her health a boost.”

  Between Fred’s studies, her job in Dr. Seaver’s office, and Allison’s ongoing health issues, as well as her own schoolwork, the end of May came all too soon for Winnie. Before she knew it, Winnie found herself holding close to Fred in the airport lobby, wishing she had another solution.

  “How am I going to make it three months without you?” Fred asked, handing Winnie her carry-on bag.

  Trying to stay positive for Allison’s sake, she spoke with a perky smile. “We’ll write. And we’ll take pictures so you won’t miss a moment.”

  Fred nodded, accepting a sweet series of kisses on his cheek from his frail daughter.

  “And we’ll call once a week. Every Saturday.” Winnie’s voice caught, revealing she wasn’t as certain of their decision as she pretended to be and wishing long-distance calls weren’t so expensive.

  “Yep.” Fred brushed Allison’s hair back from her eyes, tucking the soft brown curls behind her little ear, trying to focus there so he wouldn’t look at his wife and show her the tears in his own eyes. If he did, he knew he’d likely beg them both to stay right there with him.

  Winnie gave Fred a kiss. Then a long, tight hug. “We’ll be back in time for school to start.”

  “Promise,” Fred said, able to hold her eyes with his once he heard the resolve return to her voice.

  “Promise.” Winnie kissed him again, both saying “I love you.” Then the attendant made the final boarding call, and it was time for Fred to let his family go.

  Nineteen

  By the time Winnie and Allison arrived at the Langley home, a handwritten letter was already waiting, addressed “Dear Partner.” Winnie held the note to her heart and hoped the separation would not weigh too hard on their marriage. She was a practical person who’d watched other families deal with much harder conditions, so she focused on all that was positive in their relationship and did what needed to be done. For Allison.

  Throughout the summer of 1964, letters came and went between Fred and Winnie. One sentence at a time they declared their devotion to one another while Winnie reassured Fred that Allison’s health was improving steadily under Dr. Dillard’s care. Her strength and complexion were slowly returning to normal, and the chronic infection that had attacked her immune system for nearly a year was finally beginning to clear. Much to Winnie’s relief, she was starting to see their daughter thrive again.

  Back in New York, Fred was lonely but flourishing too. He was developing closer friendships with his classmates and choir members, yet he was also feeling restless. He wasn’t himself without Winnie, and while the extra hours allowed him to focus on his many endeavors, the time in between was too vacant. Too quiet. Too still.

  “I’m feeling unsettled,” he wrote to Winnie.
“Just once, I’d like to be pushed, challenged.”

  In addition to the dual music program at Juilliard and Union, he was also a doctoral student in the psychology department of Columbia University, one of the oldest and most influential programs in the country. But even with the grueling academic demands, his position with the church in Bernardsville, and his work with Emile, Fred was still left with too many nights alone in his quiet apartment. With Winnie and Allison still down south, the lonely hours elevated Fred’s anxieties. He had never felt so troubled. His sleep had become fraught with nightmares, and he’d begun suffering severe insomnia. Trying nearly everything to control his thoughts, he worked around the clock to rehearse, study, accompany, conduct, and compose. But it wasn’t the same without his family.

  “The only way to cope with the loneliness is to avoid being alone,” he wrote to Winnie. His classmates and choir members had been especially generous to the young musician while his family was away. But with little sleep, the days became long and the nights even longer, especially with the haunting dreams. His nightmares returned again and again, always playing out the same recurring scene. In it, a church steeple shone above Fred, waking him in fear and leaving him disturbed every morning. He had begun paying close attention to steeples around town, hoping to find clarity, but none resembled the unique form that continued to disturb him in the early hours—a tall, narrow, brown-shingled spire with a bright golden cross.

  Trying to quell the spin, Fred had begun to walk along the Hudson River during short breaks between classes. He would watch the ships, recalling the whimsical conversations he’d shared when Allison was still in New York. With his daughter on his knee, they’d sit and laugh, imagining all sorts of fantastical cargo. “See that one there,” Fred would say. “That captain sailed all the way from Yippi-skippiville.” The silly word would draw an eruption of giggles from Allison. “It’s true,” Fred would tease, as the two pretended together. “He’s carrying crates of purple turtles. And they can fly! But that’s top-secret information, so you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” He’d make her pinkie promise to secrecy before he’d tell her about the turtles’ private island in the clouds. Finally, he’d ask, “Do you know how to say ‘I love you’ in Yippi-skippi?” Allison would make a string of ridiculous guesses, all in the make-believe language. There was no end to their fantasy and fun. But watching the ships now wasn’t at all the same. Without his little girl, the magic was missing.

  One afternoon, while quietly observing the ships slide downriver, Fred took a seat on one of the park benches. A young man sat on the other end of the bench. Fred had seen him there before, walking the same path beneath the shadows of Riverside, Juilliard, and Union, but he had never come across him on campus, much less in class.

  The guy had a kind disposition, greeting other park visitors with small talk, just as he had offered a friendly “Good afternoon” to Fred. His accent revealed traces of the Caribbean, making Fred think of Desi Arnaz and the many nights he, Winnie, and Allison would laugh while watching episodes of I Love Lucy.

  From the opposite end of the bench, the man stared out at the water and said, “It’s really something, isn’t it? How big and deep the river is. How small and insignificant we are in comparison.”

  It was rare for Fred to meet anyone who sat and pondered things the way he did, much less one who expressed such deep thoughts on a whim. Perplexed, he extended his hand. “Fred Allen.”

  “I’m Pete,” the man said. Then he looked back to the water. “Ever wonder where those boats have been? Where they’re going?”

  Just like that, Fred exhaled. It was a moment of connection, a comment that made him feel as if there were other people who saw the world as he did. Their conversation started slowly, with general talk of the weather, the ships, Fred’s work, and Pete’s new job as a professor at Columbia.

  Then the strangers went their separate ways, but each day when Fred walked by, there was Pete, and in time a friendship began to form between the two scholars. It was a comfortable fit and one that filled some of the gaps between school and church while also giving Fred the deep intellectual conversations he craved. And, of course, there was also Emile. Rather than return home to his empty seminary apartment, Fred was spending more and more time at Sutton Place, working to perfect his craft and building a broader circle of friends who made their living in the arts.

  But by summer’s end, the pangs of separation had grown even more intense as Fred made a call to his family back in Columbus. “Allison is doing so much better,” Winnie said. “Honey, we definitely made the right choice by coming home. They said she should be strong enough for surgery by Christmas. Maybe sooner. Dr. Dillard’s trying to increase her weight and keep her temperature down for more than a couple weeks at a time.”

  Fred’s voice grew heavy. “I miss you both so much. Are you saying you can’t come back until after Christmas? We’re a family, Winnie. We belong together.”

  “We miss you too, honey. More than words can say.” At that Winnie bit her lip to keep from crying, as there seemed no better option for keeping Allison healthy.

  After an emotional discussion, the couple agreed. Winnie stayed in Columbus, strengthening Allison’s energy for the bilateral tonsillectomy that took place in October. Fred flew down for the surgery, giving the family a much-needed reunion, albeit a brief one. As his little girl opened her eyes, still groggy from anesthesia, she reached for Fred’s hand.

  Then he flew down again for Christmas, relieved to find his young daughter out of pain for the first time in more than a year. Bright-eyed and full of energy, she bounded toward him with a big hug.

  While he was due to return to New York for his final spring semester, Fred agreed with Winnie that Allison should stay and complete her first-grade year in Columbus. She had been so happy in Georgia, surrounded by friends and family, and her health was finally returning. Plus, Winnie had taken a job teaching kindergarten in order to help support the family. Fred and Winnie knew all the reasons why this arrangement made practical sense, but emotionally they were struggling with the plan to spend another semester apart.

  At the request of the family minister, the couple had agreed to sing for the church Christmas program before Fred’s return flight to New York. Since it was a last-minute addition, they had gone to the sanctuary for a quick rehearsal. The annual holiday concert had become a community affair, with children dressed as haloed angels and a steep competition among the mothers who wanted their infants to land the part of baby Jesus. But for the moment, the sanctuary was quiet, with only Fred at the piano as Winnie prepared her voice for song.

  With his eyes on his wife, Fred began to play and sing one of her favorites:

  Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

  Let your heart be light.

  From now on your troubles will be out of sight.

  Winnie joined in, their voices lifting in tenderhearted harmony as the evergreen garlands filled the air with the crisp scent of pine. Red poinsettias captured the holiday mood, as did an ornamented tree standing next to the piano, its lights twinkling their sentimental glow. Yes, Fred and Winnie were still completely in love. They were still a perfect match, and music still served as the bond that kept them both in sync. Fred’s heart pounded as she offered him her bright and loving smile. Together, they sang:

  Through the years we all will be together

  If the fates allow.1

  When Fred struck the final notes, Winnie slid close beside him and pulled his hand in hers. “We’re better together,” she said softly. He gave her a kiss and agreed.

  In the morning Fred would board a plane for LaGuardia. Winnie and Allison would wave goodbye again. His wife and daughter would finish the academic year in Columbus. Fred would wrap up his graduate studies at Union and Juilliard while continuing his doctoral work at Columbia. Then when the semester ended in May, Allison would be healthy, he would find a job in New York, and they all would be together again. Fred thought, If the
fates allow.

  Twenty

  Back in New York, Fred was developing closer friendships not only with his Bernardsville choir members but also with his Union classmates. They had become a tight-knit group, but they all had families of their own. Pete, a self-professed womanizer, was Fred’s only friend who seemed to have hours to spare. The charming bachelor spent most of his time at bars, mingling with beautiful ladies, so Fred began to meet him for drinks—an option that seemed better than wrestling loneliness in the empty apartment. Other university scholars would frequently join them, making for a diverse crowd of academics who enjoyed sharing ideas more than anything else. Fred felt safe and comfortable in their circles, and he’d learned to look forward to the deep conversations and debates. Most nights, he’d stay until the others had found their evening match. Each couple would make their way home in one another’s arms, and Fred would go back to the seminary to compose songs or write in his journal, a practice he’d maintained since childhood.

  In time Fred had established a trusting friendship with Pete, and the two intellectuals slowly began to share their difficult pasts—in Fred’s case, truths he’d only confessed to Winnie.

  “I don’t know, Fred,” Pete confided one night. “I doubt anyone can understand, unless they’ve lived it.” He took a beer from the bartender. “Try splitting one egg to feed your family. My sister, my mother, and I would take about one bite each, and that was all we’d have. The whole day. Talk about hungry.”

  “I never had it quite that hard,” Fred admitted. “My sister used to warm a can of stewed tomatoes or open a can of fruit. It was never enough to stop my stomach from growling, but . . . we ate.”

  “We weren’t always poor,” Pete explained. “That’s what made it even harder, I think. My family had owned a major company in Havana. We were upper crust, man. Big house. New cars. You name it. But then Castro took over and . . . everything changed.”