The Bright Unknown

by Elizabeth Byler Younts

  Rose-Colored Glasses

  With angelic movement Angel’s mother gestured for us to follow her. “Come. Let’s sit down together. Reni poured some iced tea and set out some cake.”

  Angel turned around and looked at me. His expression was shock, awe, and fear all mixed together. Where disbelief and guilt had veiled my father, I saw joy and confidence in Cynthia Sherwood. But shouldn’t she have some guilt too? Ezra had been told I was dead, but he had had good intentions. From what I knew, Mrs. Sherwood had given up Angel. I didn’t trust her.

  I touched Angel’s arm and pulled him a few steps away. “Don’t you think we should—”

  “She can come too,” his mother said, interrupting me.

  “Come on.” Angel walked away from my hold and nodded for me to come with him. I followed behind him, and his mother linked her arm through his with a fluidity that tightened my rib cage and squeezed my heart. His sister led the way for all of us and opened doors that led to the outside patio; she even pulled a chair out for him. Her smile reminded me of Joann’s when I was a little girl. Cheerful and happy and loving—and like there was something to cover up.

  Angel was between his mother and sister, and I sat opposite him. All of us were looking at him while he sipped his tea from a sparkling, rose-colored glass. Angel’s chair scraped against the patio floor as he moved to keep his eyes in the shade of the awning. It was bright today, and nothing like the gray day from yesterday.

  “It’s too bright for you, isn’t it? I read about this. Mother, maybe we should go inside. His eyes are very sensitive. Do you want to go inside?” Bonnie was already protective of him. I’d watched over him my whole life, and suddenly she had taken my place. My jaw tightened.

  “It’s okay.” He waved off her words. “As long as I’m in the shade and . . .”

  His voice faded away. Explaining his vision issues, why his eyes looked the way they did, why his skin was so light—clearly made him uncomfortable. He inhaled deeply, and through the glass patio table I could see his knee nervously bouncing.

  His stuttering and the sweat beads at his temples made me sit up straighter, considering how I might need to come to his defense.

  “So, Luke—” his mother started.

  “That sounds so strange to me.” He chuckled and rubbed the tops of his legs.

  “Well, it’s your name, Son.” Cynthia reached and patted his forearm then rested her hand on his.

  He nodded with that innocent smile I knew so well and sipped his tea, his eyes diverted away from all of us.

  No one spoke. This was wrong. Even though my father hadn’t welcomed me with open arms. Even though he hadn’t been able to give me a life then or now. Even though he had pulled the veil of my identity away—he still gave me answers.

  Images of Angel at the graveyard all those years ago flashed through my mind. With no name. No mother.

  This perfect woman with her perfect daughter couldn’t get away with all of this without answers—I wouldn’t let that happen.

  “Why did you leave Angel—Luke—at the asylum? Do you know the life that he lived?” I hoped my nerves weren’t as transparent as my hopes had been with Ezra.

  “Bri—I mean, Nell—I mean,” Angel stammered, then looked at his mother. “I—um—”

  His mother cleared her throat, and his sister raised an eyebrow high off of her forehead.

  “It was because of your father.” The words rattled out of Angel’s mother like she’d been shaken. Her eyes buzzed around. “And my parents. They forced me to give you up. They told me you couldn’t learn and that you were better off in the asylum, where people could take care of you.”

  He pulled his hand free of her touch—gently, but intentionally.

  “But you didn’t visit?” Angel’s voice cracked when he spoke. “I didn’t even know my name.”

  Angel paused and rocked back and forth a bit—his hands back on his legs, rubbing up and down. I tilted my head, watching him. He’d never done this before. The rocking was something the patients did when they were agitated.

  “Your father said you weren’t normal.” Her voice was firm and her breathing was fast and erratic. “They all convinced me. Howard told me it would be better if you were with other people like you. Mother agreed. They said you would get a suitable education for a boy like you and that you would never even remember me because of your condition.” Her words came so fast it was hard to keep up. Her elegant perfection had fallen away, and she was nothing more than a ragged woman with poor excuses. Ezra had been more prepared to handle my questions.

  “I understand. It’s okay,” Angel said quietly. So quietly his words could’ve been missed. His eyes rested on the cake in front of him.

  “No, it’s not.” I blurted out my words before I could arrest them. “Have you ever visited Riverside?”

  “Riverside?”

  “The hospital where Angel and I lived.”

  “Yes, Riverside. That’s the place.” She turned away from me. “After you were born I moved to Pittsburgh and Mother hired round-the-clock care for you for almost three years, until that nurse couldn’t be trusted any longer. Mother said Howard had found a special school for children like you. She wouldn’t let me see you anymore. It was 1923 when they took you. I had no rights to anything. If I left Howard for you, I would have lost everything. My husband, my parents, Howard Junior, who was a baby then, everything. I would’ve had to give up everything.”

  “But what about me?” Angel whispered.

  “Riverside doesn’t have a school,” I prodded.

  Everyone was as silent as snow.

  “But Howard said— I didn’t think you’d know any better, Luke. You can’t blame me for that.”

  Angel just stared at his hands gripping his iced tea in the prettiest glass I’d ever seen.

  “I was told my brother would watch out for you.” She plastered a smile on her face.

  “Watch out for him? Did you know that when Angel broke his leg if I hadn’t found him he might’ve died waiting for help? And that for years of his life he was bathed with a cold water hose?” I paused briefly, looking between his mother and sister, who were both stoic and motionless. “They made sure to do it on the side of the building so that no one else would see what was happening. Did you know he was in a crib until he was ten and had terribly achy joints because of it? He ate like an animal and didn’t even know how to use a spoon. He didn’t even know what mother meant when I met him.”

  “Stop,” Cynthia said. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You don’t get to not know anymore. It was nothing like you could ever imagine in your worst nightmares. That’s the school you sent him to.”

  “Luke, you don’t blame me, do you? Mother visited, and she never told me any of this. It couldn’t have been as bad as what your friend says.”

  “No, it wasn’t as bad as she says.” His voice was a low rumble, and he looked directly at his mother. “It was worse, Mother. If it wasn’t for Brighton, I wouldn’t have survived. But I still don’t know why. Why didn’t you—”

  “I couldn’t raise you as our son.” She twitched and gasped between each word. Then suddenly she gathered her composure. “It would’ve been so hard for you, Luke, so different from everyone else. We didn’t want that for you. There you could at least be with others like you.”

  “I’ve never met anyone like me.” He remained sober and contained. “I was the only one.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  I hated her. I hated her so much that I couldn’t even bear to look at her. I stood, and the scrape of the chair vibrated my brain. I didn’t want to leave Angel, but I couldn’t stay.

  “Wait,” Angel said to me and took my hand. Then returned his gaze to his mother. “I think we should go.”

  My surprise at this couldn’t be measured. The shock of the other two was just as palpable.

  “You’ll be back, won’t you? Do you live nearby?”

  “Live nearby?”
Angel almost laughed aloud. “Your brother, Dr. Woburn, helped us escape the hospital only two days ago. We don’t have any place to stay. We’ve lived our lives in the halls of an asylum, and we need help.” He was passionate now. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Oh?” She blinked and put a hand to her chest. “You thought you could stay here?”

  “Did you think this was just a casual social visit?” I yelled.

  Angel twitched and stood so quickly his chair fell backward.

  “Oh, Luke— Well, your father, he’d never—” Her eyes bounced everywhere except at Angel. “How could we— There would be so much to explain.” She shook her head. “I could make some arrangements—maybe?”

  Angel and I looked at one another.

  “Arrangements?” Angel asked.

  Cynthia Sherwood bit her lip, but a moment later her polished demeanor returned. “Your father would never allow you to stay here—and we could never tell him. It would be very confusing for our friends, not to mention Howard Junior. I’d have to find a way to pay for it, but as long as your father never finds out, I might be able to help you.”

  “We could use my trust. Daddy never checks how it’s spent,” Bonnie piped up.

  “You mean you might be able to help us?” Angel said, nodding his head to me.

  His mother turned toward me. “Nell, right?”

  I nodded. Angel’s hand gripped tighter.

  “Surely you have family—or someone—to go to who could be responsible for you. You wouldn’t want to hold Angel back, would you?”

  My panic heightened, but I couldn’t find the heart to recite my mantra. There was nothing bright or beautiful about this. She was asking me to leave Angel. And Angel wanted his family so much. Enough to stay by himself? My breathing was more shallow with each passing moment.

  “What’s happening to her? Is she having some type of fit?” Mrs. Sherwood said.

  “Brighton.” Angel gripped my shoulders. “Breathe.”

  Then he pulled me close and whispered to me, “I’m not going to let her separate us. We’re staying together. I won’t leave you. I love you.”

  “Didn’t you say her name was Nell? Who are you, really?”

  Her voice was like a crystal bell in my ears, even though I felt like I was breathing underwater. But Angel was here, his warmth and presence and words reminding me that we were doing this together. He was bright and beautiful. My breathing started to even out—quicker than usual. But even though my breath was returning, the lingering sense of dread didn’t go away.

  “She needs doctors and help,” Angel’s mother said. “She never should have left the hospital if she has fits like that. She needs to be with others like her, not in civilized society.”

  “I’ll never let her go back,” Angel growled. The strength in his voice that had seemingly been lost all day was back. “We won’t be separated.”

  “She’ll hold you back, Son. We could get her the help she needs—we know doctors. Think about what I could give you. There might be some medicine now that could fix your complexion.”

  “Fix him?” I said between breaths.

  “I would have to be kept hidden?”

  “Father will have you readmitted if he catches wind of you,” Bonnie blurted out.

  “Never.” Angel held my hand tightly, tethering me to him.

  His eyes, caught by the sun’s rays, reddened. He squinted, then moved his free hand to block the glare. “We won’t be separated, and we’re not going back there.”

  “Not your hospital. He would take you to his.” Bonnie started crying. “You won’t survive, Luke. Neither of you will. Mother, you won’t let that happen, will you?”

  “Bonnie, get ahold of yourself.”

  “Why do you live with such a man?” Angel looked at his mother, yelling now.

  “You really don’t know anything about the world, do you? What choice do I have?” His mother’s voice filled the space around us. She stood and turned away, weeping. “I’d be ruined. Everything would be ruined. The children would have no future. I’d be cast out. I’d lose everything.”

  She’d chosen to send her son away to salvage a reputation, which made her a prisoner worse than Angel and I had been.

  “Go, Luke,” Bonnie breathed quickly. “She will call if she feels threatened.”

  “Bonnie,” she yelled. “You will—”

  “Call who?” Angel asked.

  “Father—or his hospital. Go, now.”

  His welcome had been so deceiving—her joy mixed with deception. There was such heartbreak in rejection, and if my heart wasn’t already shattered it would have broken for him.

  “We have to go, Brighton,” he said in a deep, guttural voice. “We just need to go.”

  He took my hand and we walked back inside, through the opulent rooms, and into the large entry where our small tattered bags still sat on the shiny floors. When we turned around, Bonnie rushed up behind us. She was crying.

  Bonnie threw her arms around Angel, and when they finally let go of one another, we left through the large, heavy wooden door. We turned before it closed, and once again his mother was nowhere to be seen.

  1941

  Not an Angel

  I was certain we would never see Cynthia Sherwood again. Not her light-blond hair. Not her bright blue eyes. Not her perfect house or her daughter, who had tried to save us.

  When we left the house, the afternoon sun was bright and Angel put his hat back on low, down to his eyebrows. He stood his coat collar up and tucked his chin down. Going unnoticed was the best plan. Though we had no idea where we were going.

  As we walked we didn’t speak. We didn’t look at each other. Leaving the Sherwood home felt like a second escape, but I knew for Angel it was like losing his mother a second time.

  After walking for a few hours I found a bench and sat down. I didn’t want to go one step farther. I didn’t know where we were or where we were going. I didn’t know anything. All I wanted was to be somewhere safe and to sleep so I could get away from all the hurt and confusion. How I wished Grace was with us. She knew the world. She would know how to get around in it. I wondered if we should go back to Ezra and ask him for help—but I didn’t want to walk away from my father again.

  Angel plopped down on the bench next to me but didn’t say a word. He sat next to the armrest on the other side. He rarely did that. He was the one who would sit so closely that we breathed each other’s air. But since we had run out of his mother’s home, he hadn’t touched me or spoken a word. His grieving was in the aging day and all around in the balmy May air. It reached me like the long fingers of the ghosts we’d left behind, making me nervous.

  His chest looked empty. Her tarnished and broken response to him wasn’t what I’d expected—but I couldn’t help but remember the warning. I wondered if Mrs. Sherwood would tell Angel’s father about our visit or if she’d keep that a secret.

  “I’m sorry, Angel,” I whispered. He turned his face away from me. He’d never hidden his tears from me. This hurt wasn’t something he had made room for—he hadn’t expected her response. What had been before him for years was behind him within an hour. I kept thinking that Joann would know what to say. She would have some words that would help that I didn’t know.

  We sat on the bench as people came and went, through the lunch time. He didn’t say anything. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe if he did try to speak, everything inside of him would come out and leave him as a shell of skin. As my death certificate and the death of my mother had done to me. By the time Ezra Raab stripped me of my name, I was completely numb and nameless. Now we were both like husks without seeds. How would we survive this world?

  The bench was near a park, and like the asylum dayroom we’d sat all day. The sunset was in full bloom, and most people were indoors. We were alone. But in our aloneness I was burdened with the noise. Everywhere. Car engines. Car horns. Sirens. Sometimes yelling. The noise at the hospital had always been steady, but this was so d
ifferent.

  I scooted close to him and rested my head against his shoulder. He didn’t stiffen at my touch, but he didn’t warm either. I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep. When I woke his arm was around me and we took up the whole bench now. At some point I’d pulled my legs up and Angel also slept.

  There was a layer of dark clouds overhead, and the world around us was quiet. The tree branches around the park bobbed up and down, throwing leaves into the breeze. I sat up and hugged my arms around myself. It had cooled considerably.

  “You’re not supposed to sleep here.” An abrasive voice barreled through the cool, calm night air. A man was coming toward us. He was wearing dark clothes and rode a horse. The animal was much larger up close than in the fields or a storybook. I leaned back. I shook Angel’s arm to wake him. Then the horse made a terrible sound, and I hid my face in Angel’s shoulder and a shrill scream escaped my lips. This woke Angel. He sat up, and the man spoke to us again. “I’ll be back around in about an hour. You’ll need to move on by then.”

  He made a clicking sound with his mouth and his body began to jostle forward. The horse’s hooves sounded sharp against the pavement. I squeezed my eyes shut until the sound grew quieter.

  Angel was groggy and rubbed his face and stretched.

  “Who was that? He said we had to move on.” My voice shook. I was cold. I was scared. I was confused. I couldn’t stop shaking.

  “I think he was some type of police officer.”

  “Police?”

  “I’ve seen them before bringing criminals into Riverside.” Angel stood, and I felt colder on the side where he’d been sitting. I shook harder. “We have to go.”

  I stood. My teeth chattered. “Where?” I never imagined how empty such a small question could sound.

  He turned and put his bag on the bench and began rummaging through it.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “A map.” He said it so quietly I wasn’t sure he’d spoken.

  We stood under the lamp and shared the glow with a swarm of bugs. On the top of the map was printed the words State of Pennsylvania. Angel put his finger near Pittsburgh. He moved it left until it went off the page. He put his face as close as he could. We were in the circle of light together, but I felt disconnected from him. His weight of grief was heavier than he had experienced in his life. I wanted him back.