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The orchestra master shrugged his shoulders and cued the organist to begin playing the postlude. One of the church priests, unable to bear the absence of the printed conclusion, began reading it out of his own script, but he was drowned out by the surge of music. The congregation had already stood, and there was no reigning them back in. The event was over. Order gave way to amiable chaos. It wasn’t how the pageant was supposed to end, and the disorder was my own doing. If I had blushed before, by now I felt like I was running a fever.
Aunt Audra beckoned me to her side, and I broke ranks from the choir to jog down to her. She pushed past a couple of strangers so she could be the first to embrace me.
“Mannie! My favorite only nephew!” She squeezed me tight.
Audra LaPoore was my aunt on my mother’s side, and sometimes a thorn in it. Not that she meant to be. Audra had no malice, though she had mischief. Everything that Audra cared about, my mother disapproved of. Audra was a free spirit, an anarchist, sometimes a Buddhist, sometimes an atheist. As a child, I didn’t know what any of those things meant, but I heard my mother moan about them. To me, Audra was an energizing presence, a guarantee that boredom and unhappiness were banished. How improbable to find her here, in a church pew next to my mother.
“Audra! Nobody told me you were going to be here.”
“We kept it a surprise,” she said. “Look at you. You’re a grown-up!”
“Not quite,” I said.
“Oh, but you are. And what a command you took of this church! Didn’t you think so, Georgina?”
My mother smiled, but in a controlled way. “It was an impassioned performance, Emanuel.” So, I knew right away she didn’t entirely approve of it.
“I completely forgot what I was supposed to say at the end,” I confessed.
“I’m sure no one noticed,” Audra answered with compassionate dishonesty.
“The Murneys are hosting a reception party at the Botanic Gardens tonight,” I told Audra. “Will you be able to come?”
“No, I’m afraid not. But I would like to ride along with you on the way there.”
“All right,” I said. “I guess Dad will be driving.”
“I don’t think so,” Audra said, arching an eyebrow. ‘I believe you will arrive by carriage.”
I looked at my mother. She nodded. “It’s all arranged. One of the horse-drawn carriages will take you to the gardens. Go and change your clothes, and meet your aunt out by the front of the cathedral.”
“Thank you, Mum,” I said, and I hugged her. She returned the embrace, but added “Hurry up, now. There’s a lot going on tonight.”
As I ran back along the corridors by the rectory hall, I cast an eye around for Olivia. No luck, but I knew I would see her at the party. A few minutes later, I arrived at the steps in front of the cathedral. My father took my tote bag and clothes.
“Audra’s down by the carriage,” he said. “I’ll pick you up from the party at nine-thirty, so wait by the gate, will you?”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.” I bowed my head quickly, then turned and ran for the open-air carriage. Audra was already seated inside. The carriage driver stood by the door. He wore an old-fashioned top hat and a long coat that must have been uncomfortable in the heat of that New Zealand December. Two gorgeous black horses were hitched to the front.
“Hello, you handsome young man,” Audra called out. “Will you sit with me for this trip?”
I climbed into the cab, and the driver shut the door.
“Thank you, Aunt Audra.”
“No need to be formal, Mannie. Just call me Audra.”
“All right by me,” I said, and she put an arm around my shoulder.
“Surprised to see me?”
“My gosh, yes. Did Mum and Dad know?”
“Yes. It’s a surprise we’ve been planning for a long time. I’ll be staying with you this Christmas, if it’s all right with you.”
“It’s very all right, Audra,” and I hugged her hard. Once I let go, I saw that though she was smiling, her eyes were wet.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Yes, Mannie Candler. Everything is wonderful. I am so proud of you,” she said, and she couldn’t resist ruffling my hair.
“I think maybe I overdid things a bit,” I confessed.
“Nonsense. You made an impression. A grand impression.”
“Until I forgot my lines.”
Audra laughed and said, “That was the best part.”
So, you liked the pageant then?”
She gave a delighted gasp and all but shouted, “I loved it! It was extraordinary. Such beautiful music, too.”
“I’m glad you liked it. Even if you don’t believe in it, I mean.”
“You don’t have to believe in something to see the beauty in it.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Audra pointed out the window. “There’s Hays Department Store. Have you been yet this year?”
“We haven’t had time. I only got to Christchurch an hour before the pageant started. And I’ve got to go home tonight. Oh, do you remember that little shop on Worcester Street? Where you got me the sheets for my toy theater?”
“Of course. You want to go there?”
“It’s gone, closed up. I noticed on the way in today.”
“That’s a shame.”
“A lot of places have closed. I guess it’s the Depression.”
“Things will soon get better. That’s what all the papers say. Anyway, I’ve got a very nice gift for you this year. Would you like to know what it is?”
“Of course I would. But I bet you won’t tell me.”
“You’ve got that right. You’ll have to wait.”
“All right,’ I said, and we both laughed. I was famous in my family for being impatient about presents. And Audra was good at keeping secrets.
The carriage went all the way around the city center, the full scenic route. For a little while, Audra and I said nothing, but looked out at the decorated storefronts along Oxford Terrace, and the strings of lights glowing in the trees on the shore of the Avon River across the street. There was still soft light in the sky, just enough to melt the edge of shadows and tint the city with a pale orange glow.
After a while, Audra broke the silence. “Your mother tells me you’re thinking of dedicating your life to the church, like your father.”
“Sometimes. I don’t really know. I’m terrible at maths, and I’m a disaster at sport. Ask anyone at our school. But, preaching, I guess I can do.”
“You have a long time to work out what you want.”
“If I ever did become a priest, I wouldn’t be like Father Humboldt. Have you ever met him?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“If you’re staying with us, you will. He goes in for the hellfire and condemnation stuff. I don’t like that so much.” It felt strange talking about such serious things in the open air, in earshot of the coachman.
Audra went quiet for another moment or two. Her expression betrayed the careful weighing of something in her mind. When she finally spoke, her tone had changed. It wasn’t so carefree.
“Does it bother you that I don’t believe?”
It was a question I thought she might ask. I knew Audra’s lack of conventional faith was a sore spot with my mother. I had seen how upset she could be whenever my father discussed Audra with her.
For that matter, I didn’t know how to reply. On one hand, I wished Aunt Audra would come over to the faith so central to the life of her family. I couldn’t really imagine why she wouldn’t. On the other hand, Audra didn’t seem in any way incomplete without the church in her life. She was unconventional, and that’s how I liked her to be.
“You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said. “But I care what you think.”
“I worry sometimes,” I said, abashedly.
“Of course you do. It’s only because you care about me. That’s why the subject makes your mother so tense and miserable.”
“It’s just that, some people say that, well...”
“That people like me don’t make it into heaven, right?”
“Or worse,” I said, and suddenly wished the subject hadn’t come up at all.
Audra took my hand.
“The bad word you’re avoiding is Hell. You’re a kind soul, Mannie. I don’t ever want you to worry about that awful word. We aren’t that far apart, you and I. We both believe in love, right?”
“Yes.”
“We might give it different names, but it’s the same thing whether we think it’s from Jesus or the Buddha, or something else entirely.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. But I didn’t really.
Audra slapped her knee and laughed. “Couldn’t you shoot me for being such a killjoy! I’m sorry, Mannie. Let’s talk about something else, all right?”
“All right,” I said, relieved to let that topic go.
“Let’s discuss things like parties and presents, and secret crushes on Olivia Murney.”
“Oh feathered bats! Is it that obvious?” I could feel the warmth of telltale blush across my face.
“It may be the worst kept secret in Canterbury province,” Audra said, pleased as pistachios at my involuntary reaction.
“Well, it’s hopeless anyway,” I said. “Did you get a look at the fellow playing Joseph? From what I hear, he’s practically made himself her fiancée.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve met young Mr. Garrick.”
“You have?”
“Through mutual friends. I know a lot of people. You may have heard.”
“Mum always says you know everybody.”
“Nate thinks more highly of himself than he ought to. Olivia may not be as impressed as all that. See if you can steal her away, just for a moment. I bet there’s mistletoe all over the gardens.”
“You think I should steal a kiss?”
“If you want to be polite, then ask her first. I bet she’ll agree.”
“That’s the kind of advice that gets people like me into trouble, you know.”
“It’s the only kind worth taking, my dear nephew.”
Soon after that, our carriage had arrived at the Canterbury Museum. Audra snagged another hug as the coachman opened the door. I stepped out, and she followed. I noticed my father’s car across the street.
“Oh, Dad’s here,” I said.
“He’s taking me back to my friend Sissy’s house. My things are there. Now, promise me you’ll heed my advice,” she said.
“We’ll see,” I said.
“Oh, that’s the same as admitting you’re going to chicken out, Mannie!”
“All right, I promise, then.”
“Good! I want this to be the best Christmas of your life,” she said.
“It already is,” I answered, not knowing these would be the last words I ever said to her.