Excerpt # 4 - Chapter 11 of The Oak Lovers
Copyright 2010 by Kim Bullock
Chautauqua, New York - July 1905
Context: After a five year separatation, during which time Carl and Madonna's letters have become increasing intimate, Carl writes that he is spending the summer teaching at Chautauqua, leaving his family at home in East Aurora. Madonna can't resist the temptation to see him without fear of discovery and makes this impulsive journey to see him. Note: The fragment of the poem at the end was written by the real Carl Ahrens at Roycroft in 1900, and was most certainly about Madonna.
Madonna’s plan was rash at best. She arrived at Grand Central at dawn with a trunk, ten dollars in cash, the address of the Palace Hotel, and the vaguest of notions as to how to get Chautauqua. She purchased a ticket to Buffalo from a surly clerk at the ticket counter, and hoped a fellow traveler could enlighten her as to what to do from there.
Between Albany and Syracuse, Madonna clutched her armrests with each crack of thunder and tried not to view the lightshow outside as symbolic of God’s disapproval. In Rochester a mechanical issue delayed her journey by three hours. She arrived in Buffalo weary, but determined, and barely caught the train to Jamestown.
The last steamboat had already departed for Chautauqua. None were scheduled for the following day; no one could enter or leave the Institution grounds on Sunday. A kind clerk assured her that the new trolley could get her to the village tonight, but doubted the gate would be open by the time she arrived. She had no choice but to try.
She disembarked at the Chautauqua transfer station well after dark, the lone passenger to do so, and stared in dismay at the locked Institution gates. She sat on her trunk, buried her face in her hands, and prayed that a guard would emerge.
At last a gentleman slipped out a side door of the gate. He caught sight of her and frowned. “Tickets are unavailable until Monday, Miss. You can take the next trolley to Maysville. They have hotels there.”
She stepped under a gas lamp, hoping he would take pity on a young and exhausted woman. “There’s someone inside I must see. The matter’s urgent.”
He rubbed his chin and gazed at her as if he pondered how desperate she might be. They were alone. She stood up straight and raised her chin to make herself taller.
“It’s not Sunday for another two hours. I’d be most grateful if you’d bend the rules a little and let me in.”
“The ticket counter’s closed. Everyone must pay to enter.”
“My friend will take care of that formality as soon as I find him. He’s a teacher here.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll tell no one how I got in.”
The man moved closer, his posture not particularly menacing, but she feared that could change. With his thin, greased back hair, pocked complexion and weak chin, she recoiled from the thought of him touching her. He wore a frayed suit and scuffed shoes. She calculated how much money she could do without.
“I’ll give you three dollars,” she said. “And fifty cents more if you can direct me to the Palace Hotel.”
He took her money and waved her through with a tip of his hat. Five minutes later she stood in the lobby, such as it was, of a hotel that proved anything but palatial. Asking about Carl before morning would be pointless. Better to delay the reunion than meet in a canvas-walled room. She fell into bed too weary to undress.
She woke late and freshened up as best she could before she approached the prim manager seated behind the lobby desk.
“We have no guest with the name Ahrens,” he said.
“But he receives mail here.” Annoyed by the man’s bored stare, she sighed. “Please, sir, I must find him. He’s tall, striking, not easily missed.”
As she spoke, a young woman passed behind the manager. She smiled at Madonna. “Does he have very blue eyes?”
“Yes. Have you seen him?”
The woman’s expression made Madonna bristle. “He has a tent out on the Arts and Crafts Quadrangle. A few blocks that way.” She indicated north. “I doubt you’ll find him until afternoon, though. Everyone’s at Sunday services now.”
Madonna’s courage waivered, unsure if all that kept her from Carl was meant to dissuade her or test her resolve. She nibbled a pastry as she strolled along the lakeshore and tried not to laugh at the irony of meeting a married man at a former camp for Sunday school teachers. On the Sabbath, no less.
When she noticed more people about, she assumed services had ended, and began her search. She passed groups of adults taking lessons in Latin, French, theology, horticulture and dance. A string quartet practiced on the lawn. The buildings around her were as eclectic as the classes offered within, a miniature city of Roman, Greek, and Colonial Revival styles. The gentlemen’s club was a castle.
Having been released from the nearby Children’s School, dozens of youngsters swarmed the Arts and Crafts quadrangle. Two nearly collided with her as she ambled toward a row of easels set up under the canopy of a distant tree. As she drew nearer, she recognized the timbre of Carl’s voice. She imagined he leaned against the trunk of the tree, just opposite to where she herself stood.
At last she heard the rustle of supplies being stowed, and stepped out from her hiding place. Carl conversed with a student, oblivious to Madonna’s presence. The faint lines around his eyes had multiplied, and his hair, quite long, was flecked with gray at the temples. These changes enhanced his appearance. Her throat tightened, cutting off both words and air.
His shoulders stiffened mid-sentence and his gaze shifted to her face. Her memory of those penetrating eyes had done them no justice. He looked at her as though she had sprouted horns.
She took a step closer. “I won’t disappear.”
He closed the gap between them in two strides and swept her up in a crushing embrace. Ivory soap, tobacco and a hint of turpentine – he smelled the same. Beneath her ear his heart beat in the rhythm of lines read long ago.
Her voice was sweet, heart soothing
I felt her breath so warming
Hot ‘gainst my neck cords, heavy breathing
Love’s fires fiercely burning…
Only the startled gasp from one of his students prevented her from slipping her arms up under his coat.