The Alloy Heart

by Quinn Loftis

  “London,” she responded softly, gently rubbing her wrists.

  “Very good. Now, you remember your protector, your friend Ruth, and your profession. Where did you grow up? Do you remember that?”

  “Cheapside.”

  “This is amazing, Mary. Absolutely amazing.”

  The man seemed to be growing more and more ecstatic with every correct response from his patient.

  “You’re doing much better than I anticipated.”

  Mary had no idea what the man was on about, but she was starting to lose her focus. She felt as if she could barely lift her limbs. She desperately wanted to go back to sleep.

  “Do you remember your parents? What were their names?”

  Mary thought hard for several moments. “Bonnie, was my mother,” she replied. “Never knew my father.” The man nodded his understanding.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked. “Do you need to rest a bit?” She nodded at him, leaning her head back on her pillow and closing her eyes. “No problem, Mary. Take a little nap. You’ve done so well, I think we might be able to get you up and moving later.”

  The man patted her hand and went back to his table, pulling out a notebook and furiously scribbling notes. He held up the piece of garnet, the crystal from which he had cut tiny pieces to embed into Mary’s heart. He turned it over in his hand, pondering the responses the woman had given him. She was exhausted and confused, but that was understandable. But she seemed a little too weak. He hadn’t expected her to jump up and do cartwheels, but he had hoped the mechanical heart would provide her with a little more energy. Regardless, at least he’d made some progress. And anything was better than his previous two attempts. At least Mary was alive and, if not well, functional. She was cognizant enough to tell her story someday. Of one thing, the man was certain. The latest design of the mechanical heart was working to perfection. Oxygenated blood was indeed moving throughout Mary’s body, giving her brain the blood flow it needed to function. Whether the garnet was the correct crystal was still up for debate, however. The man suspected he was going to need something a little stronger if his subject was going to be able to sustain decades of normal life. He would find out more when Mary awoke and he was able to get her up and moving about.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunday, 8th May 1887

  Sometime around 7:00 p.m.

  Sophia watched, and did her best not to laugh, as Jackson fumbled nervously with the matches as he attempted to light the candles on the dining room table for the third time. It was their second date, and she was anxiously awaiting the delicious meal he’d promised to cook her for dinner. She had no doubt about his culinary abilities, after all, she’d tasted his cooking many times in the past. She was, however, beginning to wonder if he’d be able to get the stove to light, if he couldn’t even get the candles lit.

  “You can laugh if you need to. I wouldn’t want your side to split open while attempting to hold your giggles in,” he said dryly as he lit another match. Jackson didn’t know what was wrong with the blasted candles. They were practically brand new, only have been burned once for less than an hour. He’d wanted this evening to be just as perfect as their first date three nights ago. But while he was planning this second date, he’d realized that he might have set the bar a little high, what with the candlelit park and all. Trying to meet or exceed those expectations now was probably impossible.

  “I do not giggle,” Sophia said, attempting to sound put out, but failing miserably because of the laughter she was attempting to swallow down. “But if I did giggle, now would definitely be the appropriate time.”

  When he finally got the damn candles wicks to take a flame, Jackson turned around, his brow raised. “You don’t giggle? You also don’t tell lies, do you, Ms. Hill?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Dr. Elliot.”

  “Finally,” Jackson said as both candles burned brightly, casting dancing shadows on the walls, “we can eat.”

  Sophia helped him carry the trays and bowls of food to the table and set out the silverware and napkins. Jackson filled their glasses with wine and then stood back and looked at the feast he’d prepared. Hopefully, it would taste as good as it looked.

  After a half hour of pleasant conversation, interrupted periodically by enthusiastic tasting, Sophia leaned back in her chair and sighed. “That was delightful, Jackson. No surprise there. But truly it was really good.”

  Jackson smiled, genuinely delighted at her pleasure. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He watched as she leaned forward and pressed a hand to her breast. She hunched over and her chin dipped forward, practically touching her chest. “Sophia,” he said quickly and reached over to grasp her shoulder. “Love, are you alright?”

  Her breathing was shallow, and her skin was ghostly pale. It had taken on a shiny luster from the sweat that had just broken out on her body. Jackson stood up and hurried into the room he used for home visits with his patients. He grabbed his stethoscope and rushed back to where his Sophia sat. She was growing paler and her breathing was becoming more rapid. He put the stethoscope on and then pressed the bell to her back, listening to her heart and her lungs. The fluttering and weak beat he heard tore at his own heart. It hurt to hear how her body struggled to survive, when his own worked perfectly. As Jackson focused more closely on her lungs, he heard the telltale sound of the presence of fluid. The gurgling sounded like a death sentence being pronounced from within. The fact that she was accumulating fluid on her lungs only solidified that her heart was indeed failing, but at a much more rapid pace than Jackson had first thought. Of course, it had been months since she’d let him give her a medical exam, so it was hard for him to judge how much her disease had progressed.

  “I feel…” Sophia panted in between her words. “Like … I … can’t … breathe.”

  He took the stethoscope off and set it down on the table next to her cleaned plate. Only moments ago, they’d been eating and laughing, talking about old times and new ones to come. And now he was simply hoping she would make it through the night.

  “Can I please lay down?” she asked in a small voice.

  “I’d rather you didn’t, love. You have fluid on your lungs. Laying down will put pressure on your chest and make it harder for your heart to beat. It will also spread the fluid throughout your lungs, making it even harder to breathe.”

  She began to cough as her body attempted to release the fluid from her struggling lungs. Jackson patted her on the back, all the while his mind turning over any treatments or medicines he could offer that would give her comfort. Unfortunately, most of the medicines he had access to would suppress her breathing, and that was the last thing she needed.

  “I need you to stand up, Soph. Let’s get your lungs opened up so you can try and take some deep breaths,” he told her as he helped her to her feet.

  “I’m so tired, Jackson,” she said softly.

  “I know you are, but do this for me.” He braced her with his hands on her waist, terrified that she would fall. He didn’t know how it was possible, but her skin seemed to get even paler and her hands shook as she placed them up on his shoulders. He knew if he looked in a mirror at the pair of them, they would look like a couple simply dancing, lost in one another’s arms. But he knew better. He knew this might be the last time he would stand and look into her eyes.

  “Sophia,” he whispered as he leaned down close to her ear, “marry me.”

  Her head rose slowly until it was tilted back so she could look up at him. “What?”

  “Marry me. I want you to be my wife.” Jackson slowly slipped down until he was on one knee, his hands still on her waist and hers still on his shoulders. “You’ve always been the most precious thing in my life. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted as much as I’ve wanted you to be mine. Please do me the great honor of becoming my wife. I will never be worthy of you, but I will do everything I can every single day to try. Let me care for you. I want your face to be the last thing I see at night and the firs
t thing I see in the morning.”

  Sophia felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she stared down at the man that she loved. Never in a million years, after the diagnosis that she’d received, did she think she could ever be so happy. Even as she stood there struggling to breathe, she’d never been more joyous in her life. She began to nod before answering with words. “Yes. Of course, yes.” She chuckled, almost breathlessly, as she watched him exhale a sigh of relief. Did he honestly think she would say no? Well, given their recent history, maybe he had been afraid she would deny him. But, thanks to her sister’s insistent pestering, she’d come to her senses. Her time on this earth was short. She wanted to spend that time with Jackson.

  Jackson wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, pressing his head against her stomach. He held her tightly as if that would somehow tether her to the world and keep her from leaving him. He had no idea how he was going to survive her death. When she finally passed, she would take most of him with her. Left behind, he would be an empty shell, waiting until the day he would be able to join her in the afterlife. After several minutes of simply holding her, he finally stood and smiled. “I have something for you.” Jackson helped her return to her chair and felt a tiny bit lighter now that her breathing had slowed somewhat and seemed to be coming more easily. He walked over to the small desk that sat in the entryway, across from the dining room. The drawer creaked as he pulled it open. There sat a small box that was over five decades old. Inside it lay the ring his father had given his mother, a diamond sitting in a circle of sapphires. He picked up the box, shut the drawer, and walked back over to Sophia. As he opened it, his stomach clenched with excitement. He was finally placing his ring on the finger of the woman he knew was meant for him. Jackson reached for her left hand, lifted it up, then slipped the ring on her delicate finger. It was a perfect fit.

  An hour and many kisses later, Sophia seemed to have recovered from the episode she’d had. She didn’t want to go home, but it was getting late and she knew Thomas would be worried, no matter who she was with. “I’ve had a wonderful evening, Jackson. But I really do need to get home.”

  “Very soon this will be your home, Sophia,” Jackson said as his lips descended on her once more. Her taste was addicting and he wanted to ask her to stay, but he wouldn’t put her reputation at risk by doing something like that. When they were settled in the carriage, Jackson wrapped an arm around her and pulled her body close. He really didn’t want to waste a single moment with her. If it was up to him they would be married that very night.

  When they arrived, Sophia practically floated to the door, Jackson quiet as he walked beside her. They reached the door, and she found herself reluctant to go in.

  “Two weeks,” Jackson said as he stared down at her. “Two weeks and we marry.”

  Sophia’s mouth dropped open. How on earth was she supposed to plan a wedding in such a short amount of time? But even as she thought it, she knew she too didn’t want to wait any longer. Her life was being cut short, and she didn’t want to spend what little time she had left without Jackson by her side. “Alright,” she finally said. “Two weeks, but I get to choose the honeymoon destination.”

  He chuckled. “Fine by me. As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we go.” He pressed a tender kiss to her lips and held her close. “I will see you tomorrow,” he told her as he stepped back. He waited until she was safely in her home with the door shut behind her before he let the grin that had been on his face fall away. He was going to marry the love of his life. The thought filled him with such great happiness. But the love that filled his heart had to make room for the small amount of dread he was also feeling. He knew this feeling would only grow as the day she would be gone crept closer and closer.

  The slender man held the door of the cab open and helped Mary inside. Once she was comfortable, he hopped up into the driver’s seat and gave the reins a quick snap, sending the horse and carriage down the cobblestone streets. Very few were out at this time of night, and those that were didn’t want to be noticed or take any notice of him. Even if some concerned citizen were to gaze upon him with scrutiny, he didn’t slow the cab down long enough for anyone to take in any details of his visage.

  After a few minutes, he reined the horse in at a side entrance to Regents Park, just off Baker Street. He hopped down from his perch and opened the door. Mary gazed back at him, her eyes only slightly glazed over.

  “Mary,” he said gently. “We’re here. Remember that nice walk I said we were going to take?”

  “Uh, huh,” she whispered.

  “Well, let’s do that now. It’s a lovely evening.” And a lovely evening it was. It was still and comfortable, and the moon shone brightly, illuminating the park well enough that they could see the meandering pathways through the gardens with ease. Mary rose and climbed gingerly down the steps while the man held her steady.

  “There now,” he said. “How do you feel? Still feeling well?”

  “Yes, fine thanks,” Mary replied.

  “We are going to walk around the park a bit. If you continue to feel well, we might go and visit the Fox and Hound pub. It’s only a block or so away. I imagine it’s closed by now, but I bet your friend Ruth will still be there hanging around. How does that sound?”

  “Oh, thank you, mister,” said Mary. “I know she’s got to be worried sick about me.”

  “She needn’t worry any longer. You seem to be making a miraculous recovery. Now, would you like to take my arm?”

  “Oh, yes, that’s nice,” she said.

  The pair began walking arm in arm, all the while the slender man peppering Mary with questions, such as what she liked to eat, what her family was like, and how she found her life as a working girl. Only a few times did she have to pause and consider her answer before replying. The slender man was beside himself with excitement. He asked her to look up at the stars, and she commented on how beautiful they were. This elated the man. They walked further, the man, slowly, almost imperceptibly, quickening his pace, coaxing her along, testing her strength.

  “Why are we out so late at night?” asked Mary after they’d been strolling for some time.

  “Simple, my dear,” replied the man. “The park would be too full during the daytime. People would be moving about everywhere, jostling you, potentially causing you further injury. The sights and sounds themselves would be too much, what with the cabbies yelling and children playing and screaming. Oh, no, Mary, you’re still much too delicate. Nighttime is better for you right now. Maybe in a day or two, we can go out during the day. Then, if you still continue to do well, I’ll take you home, and you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Mary said, looking up at the man “Where’d you get that scar?” She reached up and ran her hand along the man’s face, feeling the slightly raised skin. “It’s very becoming.”

  “Oh, this is nothing. Just an old war wound. I was very lucky. A good doctor was there when it happened. He saved my life.”

  “That sounds scary,” she said. “I just—” Mary froze, midstride, clutching her heart. “I … I feel—”

  “Mary what’s—” The slender man’s words were cut off as the woman crumpled to the ground. “Mary! No, no, no,” he yelled at her. “Mary, wake up!” He leaned down and listened to her breathing. There was nothing to hear. He put his hand on her neck. There was no pulse.

  “Dammit,” he cried, tilting her head back and opening her mouth. He blew in, trying to force air into the woman’s lungs. He put both hands on her chest, pushing, pushing, pushing a steady rhythm. After thirty thrusts, he listened again. Nothing. Again, he forced air into her chest. Time and again he compressed Mary’s chest, pausing only to breathe into her mouth every so often. After twenty minutes, he collapsed beside her, exhausted. Still, his subject did not breathe. The man lay on his back, his eyes squeezed tightly against the light of the moon, so beautiful moments ago, now laughing down at him. The two figures lay ther
e, silent and unmoving, like two lovers who’d fallen asleep next to each other, so peaceful, on a blanket under the stars.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday, 9th May 1887

  Sometime around 9:00 a.m.

  “How on earth am I supposed to plan a wedding in a fortnight?” Olivia asked as she stared at her sister. Did Sophia think she was a miracle worker? Not that she couldn’t get it done, but still, as the younger sister, she felt it was her prerogative to poke Sophia just a tad. Truth be told, Olivia already knew what kind of wedding her sister dreamed of. They’d both laid in bed many a night when they were younger, sharing their hearts’ desires for the weddings they hoped one day to have. She’d never forget the longing that had been in Sophia’s voice when she spoke of that fairy tale day.

  “Actually, less than a fortnight. Two Sundays from yesterday makes thirteen days. But I have complete faith in your abilities, sister,” Sophia told her.

  “Well, despite the short notice, you are quite right. I am more than up to the task.” Though she wouldn’t admit it, Olivia enjoyed being challenging, simply for sport. Her eyes glinted mischievously as she looked at her sister. Olivia knew her sister didn’t want to wait any longer to be Mrs. Jackson Elliot, even if organizing a wedding in just two weeks was a daunting task. Sophia probably felt like she’d been waiting her whole life. “Now what are you thinking of in terms of flowers, colors, your dress? We might be able to reserve Lady Templeton to do your dress if we ask her today.”

  “Slow down, Olivia. You know we will be on a very tight budget. Lady Templeton would cost a small fortune, of which we no longer possess.”

  Olivia frowned. She remembered a time, back when her father was still alive, when they would have easily been able to afford a lavish wedding, but that was no longer the case. She wondered if Sophia felt sad, or cheated, but then she considered how many people had much less than they and still married, joy filling their hearts. It wasn’t about what her sister would be able to have at her wedding. It wasn’t about the trappings or dresses or music and flowers. It was about Jackson and Sophia, coming together to celebrate their union as husband and wife. And despite the condition of their finances, Olivia knew that people adored her sister. There would be many people excited about the nuptials and be willing to pitch in and help out. The wheels in her mind were already turning as she ignored the suspicious look on Sophia’s face. “Don’t worry your beautiful little head about anything,” Olivia said. “I’ll take care of everything.”