Ashes Remain

by Alethea Stauron

  David scales from the other side of the kitchen, “Are you alright?” He leans across the bar. His face beams with dumbfoundedness. “Little sis, what’s wrong with you?”

  “What the heck?” Neil furrows his brow in confusion.

  David asks, “Josephine, you just told me he was around. He came back from combat looking for you. You said you were gonna marry him. Where’s your brain little sister? Lucius. The guy. The guy you wanna marry. That guy.”

  Josephine fidgets her feet against the table as her knee starts to tremble. Shaking actually. Her ankles are wobbling. Her blood pressure shoots up. Every eye is staring at her. She shrugs her shoulder, lifting one hand in the air, “Did I say that?”

  “I know what’s going on,” and thankfully every eye unwraps from Josephine, landing on Neil. He nods, “This is making sense now.” He studies Josephine’s nervousness, and how she’s pretending as if she doesn’t know anyone named Lucius. Josephine’s expression implores his mercy, exhausting subtle shakes of her head for him to remain quiet.

  How does he know? Is it obvious, she thought.

  Her eyes expand as she inhales with her index finger and thumb pinching her upper lip. Neil’s head shakes before evolving into a nod, “Yep,” he says, “I figured it out. I know what’s going on,” staring straight at her. Neil taps his hand rapidly on the countertop, giving a drum roll and looks at Carissa. He points, “Yep. You can go ahead, babe. She’s moved on.”

  Josephine deflates in her chair.

  No one thinks he’s upstairs, Josephine contemplates. Her flushed appearance subsides a little, and she’s breathing normally again. At least, that’s over with. That was horrendous.

  She allows her guard to fall after inquisition. However, completely unaware of the pre-arrangements Carissa has been scheming in order to clear her name. Following Neil’s instructions, Carissa continues with her previous plans. She latches her hands on the table, sliding interlocked fingers with her delivery, “Well…” clearing her throat, “I mean, there’s no more Lucius talk. You’re obviously not seeing him anymore. You and Drake never existed… right?”

  Josephine says, “That’s right,” firmly spoken.

  “I guess back to normal life… as usual. Right?”

  “Sure,” Josephine answered.

  Carissa plays innocent, “Wait… I just remembered. I was speaking to a handyman the other day about normal life things…” waving her hand about in disconnect, “… having nothing to do with these frivolous relationship issues we women go through.” She smiles at Josephine, who is still glancing back at the men munching on cookies and half listening. Carissa continues, “He told me he knew something about making repairs. That jogged my memory. I remembered your gutter and how the thing is still broken. Then I thought, maybe he can help my dear friend, so she doesn’t fall from her roof again. I mentioned the gutter to him after church.” She glances over at Amber who then takes the que very well.

  Amber raises her practiced surprise of the discovery, “Did he say he could help?”

  “Oh, yes.” Carissa tries not looking around, “He’s very nice like that.”

  “What’s his name,” Amber asked.

  “The song leader at our church. His name is, Israel. He said it would be no trouble at all to help one of my friends. He didn’t seem bothered at all about the repairs.” Carissa points her chin for Amber to speak next.

  “Israel, that’s right. He’s very kind like that. He lives for that kind of thing.” Amber’s eyes skim across the table with a quick and quiet whisper, “And single,” before clearing her throat, “He and Bishop Jones are friends.”

  Carissa widens her expression, “That’s right,” glancing at Josephine, “What a small world.”

  Lucius jumps up from his position with a ripping feeling continuously stabbing deep in his chest. The stabbing feeling of betrayal. He reads all their minds and his jaw drops. “They’re setting her up.” He’s red-faced mad and shouts, “Dang it! I can’t catch a break!”

  Josephine jerks her hands to her mouth. She pretends coughing to cover Lucius’s outbursts and his shouting phrases that are clearly loud enough for her to hear. Amber pats her on the back, “Are you okay? I hope you don’t have allergies again. You’re not coming down with anything are you?” At this point, Josephine can no longer hear what her friends are saying, and worried about the noise coming from upstairs.

  Carissa continues through Josephine’s spat, “I told him sometime this week would be good. Is that okay?”

  “Come on,” brasher than before, “Dang! Dang! Dang it!” Lucius erupts through the bathroom door, “No!”

  Josephine coughs. Coughs. And coughs harder with each bellow she hears. She’s stretching her esophagus and trying with all her might to cover his sounds. Amber continues to rub her back. Neil walks toward the cabinet, “Here, I’ll make you some tea,” he said, “Allergies are really bad this year. We don’t want an episode like last time.”

  Carissa becomes a little jumpy with exasperation. She restates the last question, “Is that okay,” staring at Josephine.

  Josephine asks, “What,” forgetting what the conversation was about.

  David and Neil become impatient, “Uh…” Neil huffs from the dragging discussion he knows his wife has been fabricating.

  David chimes in with a robust voice and speaking with his hands, “There’s a guy that’s coming out to fix your gutter this week for free. Is that okay?”

  Josephine swivels her head from the direction of her bedroom door and back to David, “Oh, sure. That’s fine.”

  Both men sigh in relief, throwing their hands in the air. David’s head shakes, “Thank you. Finally.” He turns toward Neil, “These women… they have to complicate everything.”

  Lucius bites his lip, pacing a heavy tread. His stomping makes the ceiling over the study thump under his feet. He yells, “Over my dead body!”

  Josephine stands up quickly, coughing ferociously. She pats her hand over the table. She forces knocking sounds with her knuckles to drown out whatever tantrum he’s exhibiting for whatever reason.

  “What have I done,” Lucius sinks onto the edge of her bed. “I get rid of one…” his head shakes, digging deep into his palms, “… just to have another one come along.” He slides down the side of her bed, plopping his rear on the floor. He sinks into a deep depression. “It’s like, I’ll never be anything more to her.” His feet thud over carpet.

  Josephine forces her last bit of coughing she can afford. But chooses a different tactic with her throat becoming actually sore. “I think…” pointing up toward the ceiling in the study, “I have a squirrel on the roof. I’m so sorry for the noises y’all.”

  Her friends look around at each other. Amber’s brow furrows with a gaze at David who expresses his concern for Josephine’s odd behavior. Carissa states, “I don’t hear anything, sweetie.” She reaches across the table, “You feeling alright?”

  Josephine eases herself in her chair, rubbing her newly sore throat. She grumbles, “Now, my throat’s sore.” She glances over at Neil. He’s placing honey inside of her hot tea. She nearly slaps her lips and begins to laugh.

  And laughs…

  and laughs.

  David asks, “Josephine? You okay, little sis?”

  She slaps the table. Not able to retain her laughter as if all her stress is relieved with it. Neil delivers her hot tea. He assesses her head with the back of his hand, “You feeling okay there, little girl?”

  She picks up her hot tea as her laughter subsides, “Honey,” and takes a sip.

  Josephine stands on the porch waving at David’s truck. Carissa and Amber continue arching a gaze backward, waving at Josephine through a gunrack. Taillights fade in the distance and turn from her street. The leaves of her forest have sprouted enough. Many evergreens crowd the space between her and the road. She can no longer make out where they are. As she often looks along the ridges in the distance, sometimes seeing flashes of light from cars. But
the moon is out, drowning any aspects of them traveling away. They’re gone. Much like bad history and faltered reputations. Gone.

  She clasps fingers together, inhaling totally before exhaling, “A wonderful night.” The wind blows, leaving her to breathe in deeply. The smell of cedar sap catches the breeze and nearby wildflowers as they marry within the evening wind. “I feel so much better,” she whispered. She stares up and the stars are out. “Lucius was right. I needed this.”

  Harmony. A drop of dread that has dissipated like a dissolving tornado over water. No damage has been done. No ashes remain. No more scars as if washed away completely. She feels no remorse. Just… peace. Before walking in the house, her fingers rest on the handle of front door. Something faint grows her mind. A burst of a memory makes itself known again. It’s a slight jolt of her thoughts, whisking through her itinerant recollection. Taken from the dream she had…

  You have this power, I give it to you.

  The voice is like a revelation to her ears. Stronger than a fleeting thought. A command. Crisp and clear. “Power,” she said.

  She remembers the voice. She remembers the sensation from several months back. She recalls what power she was given as clear as the moment she heard it. Love, forgiveness, family, hope, and faith. Her dream. Lucius had given up on himself. Thinking himself worthless, overcome by loneliness, broken trust, abandonment, and regret. He thought of himself as no more than a mistake riddled person, not deserving of anything, as if willing to give it all up. A failure in trying.

  Her heart is split in half with pity for him. His words echo through her head. I don’t exist. The confession from his lips makes her want to hold him. Cradle him. Tell him how wonderful he is for saving her life and bringing her joy after the death of her family. “I’m alive now. I feel alive because of him,” whispered beneath her breath.

  ◆◆◆

  She enters her master bedroom and finds a gloomy and frustrated gentleman sitting toward the end of her bed. He’s hunched over, barely able to make eye contact. “What were you doing out there,” he asked. His eyes hardly hiking toward her gaze.

  Oh, he feels guilty for earlier… good. My throat hurts now. She taps her foot on the floor, placing her hands over her hips.

  Something’s off on her, Lucius can’t penetrate her thoughts completely. His brow crinkles, “What were you doing down there?”

  “You tell me,” swinging one hand out, “What was that all about?”

  Lucius sinks into his shoulders, “Oh, earlier… that. You heard that?”

  “Yeah, that. The acrobatics you were doing up here while performing like an overenthusiastic wrestling announcer.” She thumbs back at herself, “I sounded like a weirdo,” rubbing her neck, “Now, my throat’s sore.”

  He unwinds from his seat, about to touch her throat before remembering, “Oh, yeah,” recoiling his hand, “We can’t touch right now.” In which, his shoulders sink again.

  Josephine tilts her jaw, “Why were you making so much noise? I can’t hide you, if you’re screaming something to no one. That doesn’t make any sense, Lucius. You told me to be quiet.”

  He sighs, “They didn’t hear me,” nodding, “Even if they did hear me, you covered it up pretty well. I’m sorry I made it rough on you.”

  She shakes her head, wanting to forget the whole matter. “Well…” sifting through her top drawer, “at least my friends think I’m quirky and had a distressing day.” She steps toward her bathroom. “We can…” restating herself, “I mean, I can play it off as nerves,” and closes the door behind her.

  The moment she closes the bathroom door, Lucius punches his frustration in the air a few times. Followed by pacing and whispering, “Well, that blew up in my face.” The toilet flushes and the sound of shower water sprays against bathroom tiles. Lucius pops his knuckles and practices how he’s going to tell her. “Josephine? Baby, I’m sorry nobody can ever know I’m here. Not even your friends… ever… but I love you.” He’s slightly outraged, tightening his fists at a bizarre proverbial speech. “I’m a secret warrior. I was sent here… by your father?” He grunts, listening to soapy water splashed down from her hair. He paces with a slight stomp. “I’m not allowed to… uh… I need permission. I could be relocated or imprisoned or…” his eyes stare through walls, “beaten severely by the Mangoram.”

  He throws his hands down, hunching over outlandish thoughts invading any peace of mind. “If I touch you…” falling back on her bed. “How am I going to explain this? It all sounds so ridiculous without showing her. Her mind doesn’t think this way.” He lifts himself forward and gathers a stance beside the sewing table. Beside Leo, lying over a folded quilt. Lucius gazes down at him, their eyes meet, “This is so unfair.”

  Meow

  “You’re right,” Lucius pets him, “It is my problem.”

  ◆◆◆

  Several minutes later, he hears the bathroom sink stop running and the spitting of mouthwash ques her exit. She opens the door and Lucius’s lips part. She’s wearing nothing but a long shirt and he knows why. “Josephine,” his hand falls, “I know you’re wearing a top and no underwear.” He looks the other way, “I know that’s not what you sleep in. You need to wear what you usually wear to bed.”

  “I thought we were gonna spend more time together.”

  “Not in that. You’re practically naked.” His eyes are pleading, “You’re not being fair to me. You’re breaking your promise through a back door. You’re gonna get me in trouble before I even have a chance to talk to my general about us.”

  She cocks a smart-alecky brow, “How do you know what I wear when I’m sleeping and when I’m not?”

  He grabs the doorframe, holding himself in place. “You know this is inappropriate with me being here at this hour. It’s not right to do to me either. Don’t do anything you’re not able to do in front of your friends with me. Seriously.” He reaches for the knob, and her eyes enlarge with his threat.

  She reaches out, “No, don’t leave.” He relaxes the handle, and she says, “I’ll put something else on. Please don’t leave me again. I was mostly playing.”

  He exhales, knowing his point has been made without him making another mistake. Josephine reaches into her top drawer once again, pulling out something to slip on. He rolls his eyes when seeing it and groans, “Those aren’t underwear. That’s a wad of string and lace,” he tries not to stare at her smooth upper thighs, “What are you doing to me? Baby, you promised.” He glances away, to not absorb her open invitation. He’s left begging, “Josephine, I’m sensitive to you. Please put something on. In the bathroom, so I can’t see you. I’m trying to keep my mind clear. You have to know who I am first.” His fingers wrap the knob, slowly turning it as a threat, “You promised me.”

  Josephine throws the thong panties back into her drawer, and pulls out the camo pajama bottoms, “I won’t tease anymore.” She holds them up, “I’ll wear these,” with a smile. She walks backward with material dangling in front of her. “I’m gonna be a good girl now, Lucius.” She slides behind the doorframe, keeping her bathroom door open. Her head peeps around the corner, watching him. “Don’t go anywhere… because you also promised.”

  “That’s contingent on you keeping your promise as well.” His hand reaches over, petting his fluffy friend, “She’s sly. Isn’t she?”

  “Hey,” she snickers, “I’m right here.”

  He huffs, “And… she can hear me too.”

  Josephine strides from the bathroom, almost dancing her steps toward him. Lucius breaks his attention from Leo, recognizing that she’ll keep her promise in standing away from him. Josephine layers her arms out silently, allowing him to observe slouchy pants that fold over her feet. Clearly a foot bigger than she is. The waistband is far above her belly button, forming wrinkles in the fabric over her thighs. Even with the waistband folded over a few times, it swallows her, appearing more like a bedsheet rather than pajamas. “I guess because you put these on me before…” pointing at her full
y dressed body, “you don’t mind.”

  Lucius smiles, holding back whatever comments he’s trying to swallow. But, “Nice pants,” slipped out anyway. Her brows slant cockeyed and he’s chuckling, “Good choice because those are definitely not sexy on you.”

  She rests her palm to her side, holding her hip up with it and making her own little threats, “I could take them off.”

  “No,” holding back a snicker, “I mean it. I’m glad you’re wearing those. They’re cute on you.”

  “Cute,” she slowly nods and gathers a seat beside her bed. Her fingers tangle together before rubbing her knees. “Lucius… glancing at the door behind him, “earlier today,” pointing where he cradled her. “… when you locked me in the room after Drake died.”

  “Josephine,” trying to think of something else to say, “I —

  “You were talking to someone. There was someone there… and… it wasn’t Drake.” She observes his head sinking, looking at the carpet as if seeing straight through it. “Lucius, you can tell me.”

  “I’m not ready,” he meets her gaze.

  “I am,” she’s met with a twitch of his brow, “What language was that? It sounded very… strong…um… terrifying. I’ve never heard that before.”

  “I spoke in English earlier.”

  “Yes.” Her ear falls to her shoulder. “You know that came after the language I’m talking about. Please don’t play ignorant? What’s going on?”

  Lucius lowers his hands to his abdomen, staring beyond her crystal collectibles, “Uh… well,” he huffs, “I can’t tell you that. That’s not the right question. We don’t need to start with that issue. That’s a bad place to start.” He leans forward, trying to make sense of what he could say. His hands intertwine, slapping his fingers together with his body language not helping him to speak any more clearly. He’s undoubtably nervous, and she can almost touch it.

  “Take your time,” she gestures with a nod. “Wherever you want to start.”