Angel of Ash

by Law, Josephine

  Turning on her heel she fled the room, Hunter running after her, not daring to waste a second and spare a look towards Asher.

  “Angel!” They heard Hunter scream after her and Asher felt a dark blackness engulf him. He saw his future before him, bleak, desolate and wished himself a thousand deaths.

  His pride. He had not meant one word he uttered, but his pride had crippled him, tried to make them believe that Angel still meant nothing to him. His pride had just lost him his life.

  He could not move, standing rooted to the spot in which he’d first viewed Angel, staring at him and he’d wanted to run from her eyes, run and hide because he knew that he’d destroyed whatever hopes of reconciliation that they’d had.

  And it was no one’s fault except his own.

  Yet, it was Hunter’s screams, loud noises, a crash that uprooted them all, that caused the four to run towards the door and towards the large expansive hallway and there Hunter crouched, sobs and tears tearing her throat, and before her lay Angel in a pool of blood.

  They waited outside her door, quiet, somber, reserved and fearful. Maria prayed fervently, but hours had passed, hours. She knew, she knew before the doctor opened his door, leaving his two nurses and assistant in the room with Angel. She knew that their family had been brought to its’ knees.

  He looked sadly on, this doctor who’d seen so many of the pains of life that the family had known for more than thirty years. He’d seen to the birth of her six children and her first grandchild. He looked older than his sixty years and stared with no hope at the family who waited anxiously, filled with horror, anticipation.

  He tried to clear his throat, tried and failed, opened his mouth to speak and forgot how. He met their eyes’ one at a time before his fell upon Asher’s.

  “The babe, the babe did not survive the fall. Stillborn, it is dead. We finally were able to staunch the bleeding. She was hemorrhaging greatly. My lady has not regained consciousness, either. I do not know what to say. The lady…she will not last through the night. You must continue praying for her. It is outside of my hands.”

  The soft weeping of Maria and Hunter met Asher’s ears. He shook his head as if befuddled, trying to come to the realization of the doctors words. Yet, he could not. This could not happen. Shaking his head he stared at where the doctor had stood but was no longer there. For some strange reason his eyes fell on the mantle above the fireplace, it was nearing nine in the evening. Strange, the doctor had come in right after eight, the bells had chimed. Where had the last hour gone?

  He stared around the room, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. What was happening? He tried to comprehend it but his senses were muddled, addled as if he was drunk upon scotch or high on opium. He couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

  Where had the time gone? He kept asking himself, why had no one moved? Why could he not move?

  “Asher,” came Hunter’s voice, wet with tears. “Will you not go to her?” She asked in a strangled voice. “Will you not see to your wife?” Her voice paused, hesitated, sobs shaking her body. “Will you not love her, even now?”

  He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, he heard her words, comprehended them somehow in the recesses of his mind. He’d awaken, he decided. Yes, this was all a dream, he was still in London, still upset and angry and indecisive as to what to do with Angel. This was a dream. And if so, he could do this, make this dream turn into the way he wanted it. He’d ask for her forgiveness now, in this dream and when he’d awaken he’d go to Angel stationed at his parents estate and he’d make their marriage work. They would have a child soon. He’d make it work.

  Walking towards the door he reiterated the words over and over again, just a dream, his vision narrowing on the doorknob before him. His hands trembled. If he stepped through this door he’d awaken and all would be right with the world. He and Angel would reconcile, the child would be born, and everything would be as it should.

  If he could just manage to step through the door, he’d awaken.

  He did not want to step through the door.

  He wanted to stand here until the end of time, until his body became ashes and dust, until his Judgment day. His hand trembled, on top of the doorknob, silence within. The silence would shatter everything that he knew now.

  Will you not go to her?

  Will you not see to your wife?

  Will you not love her, even now?

  He opened the door and his dream came shattering to a halt.

  Blood, blood as he’d never seen it, sheets lying in a basket near the bed, soaked with blood, it was dripping from the bottom of the basket, a trail slowly, oozing towards him. He shook his head in denial and stood frozen in time.

  The door shut behind him and he didn’t hear it, an assistant walking away from him but he didn’t see him. He stared at the blood on the floor traveling towards him and could not move even if he wanted to.

  It touched the tip of his boot and with a strangled word erupting from him he finally moved, moved away as the assistant tried to pool the blood from the basket and laid more sheets on the floor.

  There was another basket near the bed and he moved closer towards it, the heat in the room oppressive filled with the smells of blood and something else.

  Death.

  His child lay in that basket. His third child. Three small babies, never to laugh, never to cry, never to stare at him with eyes his own color. Never to be.

  Something was ringing in his ears, a loud rushing, a noise as if he stood on the crest of an ocean wave. It lie so peaceful, perfect as if it was simply asleep, its face pale, but its lips were blue, lifeless,

  The hair upon its head was black, silky curls, its cheeks round and the small sweetness of its mouth bowed in a perfect arch.

  Angel’s mouth.

  He knew without asking, knew that it had been a girl and he would have fallen if not for the wall behind him. Slumping heavily, he tried to breathe but couldn’t as a voice spoke to him quietly. The doctor’s wife, she’d seen many a birth and many a death.

  “We tried, sir, I’m so sorry. We thought, almost thought the child would make it, and in one brief moment, mother and daughter seemed fine, your wife she smiled and opened her eyes and so too did your child. But, something happened, sir, I cannot say. The cord would not come out, your wife stopped breathing, and the baby stopped breathing. When next your wife started breathing again, the baby had been too long without, still connected to your wife. We could not revive the child, sir. I am sorry.”

  Tears fell down his face and he barely realized it. And he still, still could not look upon the bed. Could not.

  “Will you not go to her, my lord?” The doctors’ wife asked softly, chidingly. She’d known Asher since the moment he was born. “She doesn’t have long, sir. You perhaps, could ease some of the discomfort and pain.”

  “I cannot,” a tortured whisper fled his throat. “I dare not,” he cried.

  “Will not be there, for your wife, sir? She is dying giving birth to your child; she needs you now, no matter what your belief. Will you not love her? Will you not honor her?” She asked in a shock, her voice horrified.

  Tears fell down his eyes.

  Will you not love her, Asher, a voice whispered in his head?

  Will you not honor her, Asher; it spoke to him as he closed his eyes tightly.

  Will you not forgive her, for things she had no part of, Asher, it chided softly.

  Will you not free her from yourself, even now, Asher, will you not free her?

  He tried to stand tall, but couldn’t. He was finally, finally broken. It had to come to this, he realized with resignation. He had to be standing here in this moment, in this space of time, it was the only way.

  He walked towards the bed, his eyes still had not laid upon her, instead fashioned at her legs lay reposed, still, under the thin sheet, they’d cleaned the bed of blood, the doctors, his wife and assistants left quietly, closing the door behind them.

&nbs
p; The silence was deep, hushed, secretive, silent, encroaching.

  It hurt him, physically as he walked closer to the bed, his eyes traveling up her form, slowly, ever so slowly, her hands lay folded upon her chest, they were so pale, so pale as if there was no blood beneath them, adding color, warmth.

  He paused, her chest, they had dressed her in a pale linen shift, her arms were bare, the sheet lay just above her breasts, there was no breath, her chest did not move. Her skin was pale, her lips held a bluish tinged, there was no rose color to her cheeks, her lashes lay like black oriental half fans upon her cheeks.

  Someone had brushed her hair, it seemed the only thing alive upon her person, it caught the light of the many candles in the room, his hand shook as he reached to touch a lock that had fallen upon her chest. He couldn’t however; he dropped his trembling fingers, fisting them tightly at his side.

  He would trade his life for hers; the surprising thought flew to his mind. How right his family had been. He was not worthy of her, not worthy of her beauty, innocence, giving nature, forgiveness and he’d known it. He was the demon and she an angel and he’d entrapped her, clipping her wings, making her sink into the darkness with him where he’d wanted her all along.

  Because he could not reach her in morality or love he’d wanted her to fall with him and fallen he’d made her.

  His chest tightened, his breath struggling with every second.

  How could he ever live with himself? What right did he have to be here, above her? What right had he to be still alive? What right at all?

  “God,” he croaked out, falling to his knees beside her bed, weak and pained, horrified as his actions of the past many months came crashing down upon her, visions and whispers, voices and actions.

  I ask that you meet my dearest friend, Angel, upon the ship, she will arrive soon.

  I entrust you to behave respectfully, I honor and cherish her friendship above all others, my brother.

  Yes, yes, I am she, Angel Barrett.

  I will have her, no matter the cost.

  Asher, no, I love you, please, I love you.

  I have had you, Ms. Barrett, I, I have told my brothers about your apt…charms.

  I do not want you.

  Asher, what did I do to you, why do you hate me so?

  Leave, leave!

  I hate this, I hate you, and I hate your fingers upon this piano.

  I will have silence, I will have peace.

  You are no more than chattel to me, a slave like your mother.

  You will be the end of me.

  Is the child mine?

  I care not, I care not if the child lives or dies.

  The words battered him, words he’d spoken in such hate and loathing. Every single one that he’d ever spoken to Angel had been not for her but to entrap him to her or to hurt her to crush her. How he hated those words.

  “Please,” he whispered, taking one of her hands, he held it as it lay cold and lifeless, bowing his head in pain. He could think of naught to say, his soul lay weak. When now he needed words to ease the pain to ask forgiveness, he could do nothing except stare blankly at his wasted life and how cruelly he’d treated her.

  Trying again, he failed yet again.

  Say something, Asher, before it is too late!

  Will you not honor her?

  Will you not love her, even now, will you not love her?

  Will you not forgive yourself?

  “I am sorry, Angel, I am sorry for the pain that I have inflicted upon you,” he whispered. “I am sorry for the words that I have spoken,” he added. “Forgive me, my wife, for treating you as I have done. I meant to hurt you and I hated what I was doing but I could not stop it. It was never you, never, Angel. I could not get over a past that held me in bondage until this very minute, this very second. I have never been so ashamed in my life. My act of dishonor is my disgrace. You I love, my wife. You, I need and cherish. You I will honor above all others til my last dying day. It is you who I do not deserve and I will give you freedom I will never darken your doorstep again if you would just look at me, just be…be here, please, just stay upon this earth, but a little longer. I pray of you, please God, I pray of you.” His voice broke; he could not speak anymore, tears coursed down his cheeks. He laid next to her and held her in his arms and he wished himself death as he stared at her face and held her cold hand.

  There was nothing he could do or say so he held her as he had never done in their marriage and had only made a pretension of when he’d seduced her. He held her as if she was truly his wife.

  “Forgive me, my wife.” He spoke quietly.

  He did not awaken from the dream.

  He could feel it, her soul, hovering, ready to leave, knew the baby’s soul had long since left this realm, to travel to places unknown to him. Angel deserved this peace to. But he would wish it otherwise. “Please, don’t leave,” he said urgently, grabbing her hand. “I promise you, I will honor you as I have never before. I will make good deeds take away all my bad ones. I will gift you as befitting a queen. I will buy you a thousand pianos and build you a castle in America to house them all in. I will do whatever you want me to do. I will forfeit my life if you ask it of me. Please, please, believe me; I will do whatever it is you would wish of me!”

  “And what if all I wish…all I wish is to grow old with you,” she spoke softly, quietly, labored, but she spoke nonetheless.

  “Then I will give you your hearts wish,” he replied, smiling through the death that had come upon them. “I will give you your heart’s desire.”

  “Asher,” she said softly, her strength taken, every word an unbearable agony indescribable to Asher. “It will be alright, you will see,” she soft

  “I will make it right, forgive me, please, forgive me, for my evil which I have done to you and our child, forgive me, please, forgive me, I cannot live without you, I cannot breathe without you, I cannot see without you, please, please, forgive me, my wife, my love, my Angel.”

  “I forgive you,” she whispered over and over again as he rocked her gently in his arms.

  “Asher, can you-can you bring the baby to me, please, for just one moment, just to see her face, please, I need to see her face, Asher.”

  He nodded his heart so heavy, hurting and pulled away, standing, the basket, still at the foot of the bed, the baby within who lay so quietly, her coloring not changed much in the long moments his dream had vanished. He wanted to die rather than touch her for he knew it had been his actions which had caused her to lay in this basket, at peace, beyond this reality.

  Gently, ever so gently, he picked up the small bundle swathed in blankets, stilling the thudding of his heart with every deep breath he took. How tiny and beautiful and innocent she was. He had been a father to a child he’d not wanted until too late he’d realized his mistake.

  He lifted her to his face and kissed her round cheek and his tears fell upon her face. There would be no waking from this one nightmare. His child lay dead in his arms as had two others.

  Angel had turned on her side facing him, he lay the small bundle before her and his heart failed to beat properly as he saw the tears fall gently, the sobs coming, killing him. He hated this! He hated himself so much! He hated himself!

  He blinked and sagged on the wall next to the four-poster bed, and stared at sights unseen until he heard Angel quiet upon the bed. He managed to stand up and beheld her, her slight hand wrapped around their child’s miniature hand, her eyes closed, looking as serene as their child.

  His heart stopped.

  “NO!” He screamed in disbelief, touching Angel, shaking her gently. “Wake up, Angel! Please, God, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me! Don’t do this! Don’t leave me!” He screamed over and over again, crying, sobs jerking his body. “You said you wanted to grow old with me! Don’t do this! Don’t go! I love you, my God, I love you! Don’t die! Don’t leave me alone! I am nothing without you! I am nothing without you! I am nothing without you! Please, don’t leave me. I am so
scared…I am so scared.” he wept over and over again in the silence of the room.

  He wept.

  The burial was somber, quiet; sobs filled the small grave yard. Her father had wanted to bury her in America, but the body would not survive the long voyage home. He’d come, just as he’d heard Asher’s screams through the room, and felt his heart wither and die.

  And now here, as the mourners left the gravesite, all but Asher, he could not understand why he had ever allowed her to come to England. What a fool he had been. Everything was lost, his hope, his life had left him.

  He watched Asher who stood over the grave, wanting to hate him as he’d never hated anyone in his life. But he could not. He pitied him and he was angry with him but hate, no he could not hate this man who’d suffered so.

  There were kind words and consoling words given to Asher who squinted in the bleak sunlight and nodded his head in acceptance but there was no life within him, he’d been crushed, horribly so. And everyone knew, everyone knew whose fault it was.

  He made his way back into his parents’ home, away from consoling voices, sympathetic phrases, away from Angel’s father who stared at him with Angel’s own eyes. He could not speak to him, not yet, there was so much pain.

  Once upstairs, the door closed and locked behind him, he quietly undressed, leaving his pants on and stared outside the window. He could see the grave from his room.

  “Asher?” A quiet voice asked.

  He immediately walked towards his bed. “Yes, love?” He asked Angel.

  She was still so very weak, so very pale, more than a week had passed and she still could not get out of bed, instead she’d laid weakly for more than a week, half alive, half dead. There was a long period of silence, her eyes closed as Asher sat gingerly on the bed next to her hip. He thought she had fallen asleep or a mild unconsciousness before she spoke again. “I should have been there,” she finally said softly. “Will I ever see her again? She was so tiny; will she ever be in my arms again?”