Angel of Ash

by Law, Josephine

  He did not answer.

  “You should eat well for dinner tonight; you did not eat much for supper. You cannot afford to lose much more weight husband, you’ve lost a stone. I must fatten you up as the doctor once told me to fatten up.”

  Asher could not respond. Angel did not expect him to. Her inane chatter finally gave way to silence as Glory pulled on her skirts, reaching to be picked up. Angel smiled, staring at her daughters fat cheeks. Although her parents did not eat, Glory did, with the appetite of two babies as she cooed merrily in her mothers’ arms, flashing her fathers’ dimples.

  “She looks so much like you,” Angel said softly and this time she spoke to no one but herself as she rocked the now sleepy Glory in her arms, holding her daughters small hand. “So much like you, Asher, even, even if you wished to deny her, you would know in your heart, she is your child. She has your color eyes, your nose, your dimples, your hair…but my lips and my chin. She is so beautiful. Sometimes I look at her and I become overwhelmed with love. This then is what it is to be a mother. To think more of another then yourself. To lay down your life for your child. Maybe…maybe her life will be easier than ours, dear husband. May she forever escape the bonds of slavery that shackled me…and more than this…escape the demons that haunt you. I will protect her with my life. I will protect you, dear husband, with my life. I promise.”

  Asher did not speak; his eyes still stared vacant ahead of him. He made no motions and heard no words.

  The days grew exceedingly difficult. Asher was no more than a shell of a man. His parents came and went. His brothers and sister and extended family visited often, bringing cheer and laughter and prayer. He responded to nothing. His hair grew completely silver in a short years’ time, he responded to little stimulation and other than his daughter, Glory and Angel, would cower if another touched him. He was no longer the virile man she’d met; instead he seemed to have aged 20 years in twelve short months. But Angel tended to him with every fiber of her being as she did her daughter and the household often going to bed in the wee hours of the morning, a cot next to her husbands bed, barely sleeping for fear he would leave the safe confines of his room and roam the streets of London as he’d done often in the past few months.

  “Good night, husband,” Angel said after standing from her prayers, stoking the fire in the cool room and making sure that Asher was well covered. He was gaunt and had lost more than two stones in a year’s time. He rarely ate, he never spoke, but he slept for long hours…as if escaping from reality…from his wife and child. Angel bit her lip, she’d kept herself from crying since that day…that day he’d first received electrical shock treatments. Yet…for the first time, watching her husband, with his eyes closed, his form so still she bent down closer, to make sure he breathed yet, tears slipped from her eyes and fell upon one of his cheeks as she hurriedly brushed her face, shame upon it.

  Be strong, Angel, she chided herself. Asher had not even flinched upon the feel of her tear upon his cheek. You must be strong. Your husband and daughter needs you.

  She did not know why but for the first time in eleven months, she sat and then gingerly lay next to her husband…he still made no move, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, rhythmic. Placing one hand upon his, she prayed in her mind as she’d done each and every day.

  My God, my God, do not forget my husband…do not forget your son,” she lamented inwardly, a sharp sob tearing from her that she instantly stifled. Asher moved uneasily, still in a suspended dream world. Angel let silent tears fall from her eyes she could hold back no more and squeezed her husband’s hand before whispering in his ear, “Come back to me, love, come back to me.” She said softly, kissing his cheek, bringing his hand to her lips to kiss, softly kissing his lips, her tears falling upon his face. “Wherever you are, come back to me, please my love, come back to me,” she said, holding his face between her hands as his eyes blinked open slowly as always she was met with his blank stare as she kneeled next to him, bringing her face down to his, forehead to forehead, whispering against his lips. “I have prayed to the Lord for you, my love. I have known you before my birth. You are flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. You are me and I am you. I am lost without you, adrift. If you would but come back to me, if you would but fight just a little bit harder…if you would but bid those demons to hell, I will be here, forevermore. I am yours, my love. Just come back to me.”

  She thought…she thought he shifted, moved slightly, his hand flexed, his eyes fluttered closed. “No, my love, no, please do not punish yourself. Please. I love you more than I love myself. I will die for you, I will live for you. I am yours and you are mine. You are my beloved and I am yours. My love…come back to me.” She said urgently.

  He shifted again, his eyes fluttered open; he looked at her, his eyes quizzical. No longer blank, she saw the shadows fall from his eyes and felt a warmth flow from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, peace, comfort, it flowed and entered from her into him. “The Lord is with us,” she said, smiling, tears still falling from her to him. Tears of pain…tears of love, tears of forgiveness, tears of mercy, tears of her Savior. “He bids you to return to the living, my love. You have suffered enough, He is victorious…you have suffered, my lord, please, come; now, join your wife and your daughter upon this realm. We suffer without you.”

  He blinked his eyes harder as if shifting from a great weight. Confusion…why…why was Angel crying over him. What had he done? My God, had he hit her? He thought in terror, searching her face for signs of a bruise, yet, there was none, she held his face and kissed his lips and cried over him. He tried to speak…it took three tries before he was able. “A-Angel?” He asked hesitantly, his voice felt rough, raw.

  Tears afresh fell down her face. Why did she cry? She was breaking his heart.

  “Did-did I hurt you? Angel?” He asked hesitantly.

  He was met with her shaking head as a thick fog lifted from his mind, he knew that he was in his room, in his bed, but he did not know how he got there…the last thing he remembered was going to the asylum…the electrical shocks. He remembered right before they began, he remembered that he’d glanced one short look at Angel, before resolutely steeling his eyes to the ceiling…preparing for the pain.

  “The electrical shocks? Did, did they work, Angel?” He asked softly. They had to have worked…he felt different. As if a great weight had been removed.

  She shook her head. His heart stopped beating. Then why did he feel different?

  “I should have…I shall continue…we only did it that once…when was that? Yesterday?”

  Her heart stopped, her eyes fluttered wide, she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes, they were somewhat alert, although tired. “No…no Asher, the shock treatments…the shock treatment, you only had three…more than a year ago.”

  His breathing stilled. He shook his head wildly. That could not be true. He remembered that day…as if it was yesterday. He and Angel in the carriage, how she had tried to hold his hand…but he’d fisted his, moving them away from her. Another rejection….to protect her, didn’t she understand? A year ago. No, that was not possible. It…the memory was like yesterday.

  “No, Angel, that happened, Wednesday, remember? The 28th of June, 1824.”

  “My love…my love, please, the year now is…the 19th of July, 1825.”

  “What happened?”

  “You could take no more. The pain was too much. I brought you home, I have taken care of you, your parents, your sister and brothers have assisted. You have not spoken in 1 year, my love; you have…been a shell. The doctors…remember the doctors said this could happen. They said…your memory might come and go…your personality and behavior change. It did as they said. Glory,” she said.

  She rushed away from his and he could do nothing except stare after her. Glory had just been born, no more than a couple of months. She brought the sleeping Glory to Asher who managed to sit up and stare at his daughters’ long body with shocked eyes.

&nbs
p; “Glory?” He asked, his hands trembling, as Angel sat gingerly next to him, the sleeping Glory in the crook of her arms. Her hair was long, past her shoulders, her face matured, she’d grown, put on at least one stone, her cheeks were round and fat, her legs and arms longer. She was no longer a newborn…she was…a young child.

  Hesitantly, with shaking fingers he reached out to touch his daughters hand…her hair and her cheek, even asleep her dimples were deep. Where had this year gone? What had occurred?

  “Please…” He said. “Let me hold my daughter,” he whispered in anguish. Angel nodded and gingerly placed the sleeping Glory in her father’s arms.

  Asher did nothing except stare, tears dripping from his face to his daughter’s torso. “What have I done?” He whispered in anguish, looking towards Angel with horror filled eyes. “What have I done?”

  He held Glory for more than an hour as she slept in his arms. He spoke no words, simply staring at his daughter, trying to remember, yesterday…last month…but there was nothing. He stared at Angel; she looked the same, still stunningly beautiful, but too thin. Always, too thin. He knew, it was because she did not eat as she should…because of him. “Angel?” He said hesitantly. Glory was a great weight in his arms but he did not want his daughter to leave. Instead he placed her next to him on the bed, as Angel stood from the small cot next to the master bed, saying nothing, praying fervently.

  “Yes, my lord?” She said, walking towards him before sitting next to him and Glory, stroking her daughter’s hair.

  “What happened this past year?” He asked.

  Nodding, he thought she would speak, but instead, she stood up, walking to the armoire. “My lord, please do not be in shock, over your appearance…” she said, lifting a heavy ornate silver backed hand mirror and walking slowly towards him. “A lot has occurred since…since the shock treatment. Please, do not be alarmed.”

  He expected the worse, a ravaged and hideous face…a face only a wife and daughter could love. His hands trembled; he had never been vain, had shrugged aside his looks, why then did he not want to pick up that mirror. Resolutely he did, steeling himself, bringing up the mirror.

  He saw his father.

  Silver hair, a crown of perfectly silver hair. But unlike his father, his face was thin, gaunt. His healthy tan long since gone. His coloring still olive, but barely that, his eyes looked dark…heavy.

  He placed the mirror down on the bed. His hand went up to rake his hair, one silver strand was caught entwined his fingers. Angel touched it, pulled at it, held it in her hand as if cupping a precious stone. “It turned like this…seven months after your treatment. Just one morning I woke up…and it was silver.”

  “Did I say anything?” He asked.

  “No, my lord, you did not, you did not notice. I kept the shock to myself. Warned the staff. But you took no interest, in anyone…or anything.”

  “Neither you or Glory?”

  “Neither us.”

  “How…how did I treat Glory?”

  “You didn’t treat her…you simply did not know she existed. But to her…you were like one of her dolls. She would jump in your lap…kiss your cheek, say da-da, move your arms…to animate you. She knows you are her father. To her…your stillness…your silence is normal. She knows of no other way. She is almost two.”

  “How….did I treat you?”

  “I do not exist to you. Yet, you only permit myself and Glory to touch you. If someone else…even your mother or father…your brother or sister, you would revolt, cringe, grow discomforted.”

  His hands shook, he fisted them. He bit back the emotion that would come from his mouth. He needed her. He was…scared.

  “My lady?” He asked hesitantly.

  “Yes?”

  Too many thoughts, too many unnamed terrors raced through his mind. He bit back emotion, thoughts…pride. “Will you lay…will you and Glory, lay with me, just for tonight. I do not want to be alone. I do not want to forget you and our daughter.”

  He woke upon the striking of five. Glory lay between the two as they curled towards each other. His wife and his daughter were still fast asleep, the window curtains were pushed back, a cooling breeze flowing through the room, the shadows of their face lit briefly as the clouds released the moon. His breath was taken, his wife and his daughter. Angel had changed not, but Glory, Glory had grown, she was nearly two, he’d missed so much of his young daughter’s life. He’s missed so much of her without knowing it. And Angel? Angel who spoke the truth, who showed him the proof…a year gone by, she’d even brought the latest edition of the London Times from downstairs before falling asleep next to him. The date. July 17. A year had gone by. And he knew not where or how. He almost feared sleep, feared that if he would sleep, he’d awaken and another year would be gone…or even worse, Glory would be grown, Angel would be gone. And he, wrinkled, old…alone.

  His hands shook in fear. He’d never felt this fear before. Fear of the unknown, fear of what faced him, a man who’d been asleep, outside of his safe bedroom doors. Fear of losing his memory again. He could not sleep, but yet, as he stared at his daughter and his wife, the clouds covered the moon again, the room grew dark and his lids grew heavy, he felt lulled to sleep, he could not fight it. He went to sleep.

  When he awoke dawn was breaking, Glory and Angel were still asleep. He checked their clothing. They each wore the same clothing. Good, he had not lost another day. This time, he fought sleep, bringing the covers up more securely around his…family, watching them, wanting to protect them…but he knew, he could only protect them from himself. The thing that he had feared most had occurred. He had lost his mind.

  He left the warm bed even though he did not want to, and went to the bathing closet, nothing was different, the towels, the tub, everything was as he’d remembered. He bathed his form from head to toe, scrubbing his self vigorously almost violently, his hair, his face, his body, his nails, toes, nothing was left untouched. He brushed his teeth hard, heavily with baking soda and peroxide, staring at his gaunt face and white hair in the mirror, blinking away more shadows, trying valiantly to remember and yet, nothing, still his last memories were of the moment’s right before the electrical shocks and nothing more.

  Walking into his closet, he found his clothes the same, they’d been taken in, now able to fit his thin frame, Angel must have done so, he was wiry, sinew, unused to being so thin and gaunt and dressed in long pants, a plain white shirt and morning jacket. He felt at once whole and bereft and went back into his bedroom where Angel was now waking.

  “Husband?” She said questioningly staring at his tall and thin form as he stood dressed, his eyes clear, his face determined. “Husband, you should be in bed, I shall bring you breakfast.” She said, scuttling out of the bed, she’d not slept so hard in nearly two years, the sun was bright and high, she felt like a sluggard, it had to be near nine.

  “No, no my lady, rest today. Do not concern yourself over me, for this day, care for yourself, I shall bring Mistress Hannah,” he paused. “Is she still employed in our keep?” He asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” she responded, sitting uncertainly upon the edge of the bed. “All of the employees, our family, they have, they are a godsend, my lord, they have protected you and served you with every fiber of their being. Without them and their loyalty…” she trailed off. “Especially Mrs. Bates, my lord, especially her.”

  “Good, I shall increase their pay as soon as I go over the books. What has happened to my businesses?”

  “Your family and I have watched over them, my lord, Anthony your cousin has stopped his bachelor ways and has undertaken to be a proper manager of your businesses. Caleb and your father has watched over the rest, all is well, today Anthony usually comes over and we discuss the week’s happenings…today is Friday.”

  “Where am I when you two discuss?”

  “The three of us, including Glory, we all are in your study room. You sit at your desk while Anthony sits across from you. You never respond to an
y of our statements. Glory, Glory would usually keep you company.”

  He nodded, he felt like a bastard, instigating that she had been less than faithful when from all accounts she’d seen to him, his child, the running of his household and businesses with all the intentions of a saint…of an angel.

  “Yes, my lady. You shall rest. You deserve it. I shall send Mrs. Bates up. Do not worry for me, my lady, the Lord has returned my faculties to me. I make way once I look over the books to visit with Anthony.”

  With that he strode out, feeling his wife’s eyes upon him, but he could not, would not let another moment go, not when he could remember.

  Shocked screams were heard from downstairs from the maids, Mrs. Bates quickly placing the household quiet as she lined up the servants before the lord for inspection, the men bowing, the women curtseying, smiling as a great cheer went up and Asher nodded his head in acknowledgement.

  “Thank you,” he said, addressing the household. “It has come to my attention that I have been without my facilities for the past year. The Lord has blessed me with my mind again; I aim to not see it leave. I thank you all for the loyalty you have shown myself and especially my wife and daughter, your pay shall be increased by 30% effectively immediately. Master Hannah, walk with me. Mistress Hannah, see to the lady and young child. The lady needs some much needed rest.”

  Everyone scurried as his head butler followed him into his study; he had known Asher since he was a young boy.

  “Tell me what has occurred Bates,” Asher demanded as he sat behind his desk, opening his business books and ledgers as Master Hannah spoke concisely and detailed of the last year.

  Nearly two hours later after Asher had interrogated Bates and reviewed his ledgers he nodded with confirmation. “Thank you.” He paused, before glancing up. “I have returned.”

  Someone knocked at the door while Asher was giving his last parting instructions to the butler. “Enter,” he said, the head male servant, entering, bowing, gracefully unable to keep a small smile from playing upon his lips.