Angel of Ash

by Law, Josephine

  Asher nodded once again in his study, he tried to keep his brothers at arms lengths as he did most of his family but this time he’d requested their presence. “Send them in,” he said.

  “Yes my lord,” he said and moments later the four of them entered and also Gabe, his brother in law, they either stood or took seats around the room, waiting for their brother to begin.

  “Brothers,” Asher said curtly, nodding in courtesy. “Thank you for coming, but I shall not waste more of your time than needed. As you are well aware I am deeding over my businesses to Anthony and Caleb. That was completed as of today. Also completed was my divorce to the lady Angel.”

  “There was no other recourse?” Gabe asked, as the brothers looked pained.

  “No, my lord, no other. The lady deserves more than what I am able to give her, the divorce is not nor shall it ever be any blame of her. I instigated the divorce and I was the reason for the divorce. Please keep her in your well graces if she chooses to contact you.”

  “Why?” David asked. “She was your wife, why did you not fight for her? Do you not care for her or your daughter?” He asked in exclamation.

  “I have provided for their every financial need.”

  “I’m not talking finances, damn you,” David bit off.

  Asher’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening upon his desk. “Never thee mind, baby brother,” he said in warning. “She is now free to do as she wish. Including accepting the courtship of others,” he started pointedly at Anthony and Caleb. “And remarrying. I speak of another topic, I have sold my home to an American couple and will be…indisposed for an extended length of time.” He said.

  There was silence; it was Caleb who spoke first. “And you mean not to tell us where, or when or how, or why.” He stated.

  “You are correct, sir.” He said. “I ask that you comfort the parents and the rest of the family and extend them my words until I return.” If I return.

  Asher didn’t know quite where he was, he’d first traveled to London, taking only three changes of clothing, personal bathing affects, money and a journal. He’d brought a horse on the coast of France and had traveled first to Paris and then beyond to the French countryside, his travels drew him increasingly eastward with only the bare minimum of food and water. He did not know what he looked for, where he was going or what his goal was, he only knew that if he did not find a cure for the pain of his mind he would kill himself. It was no doubt, no other discourse, he could not live as he’d done, his soul and heart were at war with each other, had been since he’d been conscious of thought and sound. There was an evilness to him that could not be stilled, could not be saved and could not be forgiven.

  Asher traveled.

  He ruminated often regarding Angel and Glory, he brought charcoal and parchment drawing paper from a passing vendor and often would spend hours at a time drawing their profiles, before placing them neatly upon an envelope. He kept track of his days by marking the date on his hand before he went to sleep each night and keeping a journal of the dates and often when passing strangers asking them of the day to ascertain he’d not fallen into one of his ‘sleeps’. On his person he kept a letter written to his family and one to Angel and Glory and his identification and residency with the promise that if his body was found a ransom in gold would be given if brought back to London, to be placed in the custody of his parents…to be buried next to his dead son, and daughter.

  Asher wandered for more than nine months days before stopping, his food had long since left him and he’d been more than twelve days without food and three day without water. The last broken and old sign he’d passed has been nearly three hours ago, and he stood in a heavy, thicketed snow filled forest with his horse that availed to find food, finally eating a small outcropping of still green grass. He found a large tree and slid down heavily, sitting in weakness and leaning against the tree, having just enough strength to stare at his horse munch contently and feeling his soul hover, weak, he was so tired. Tired of the pain.

  “God forgive my actions towards my wife, God forgive my actions towards my daughter. God forgive my actions towards my family and those that I have wronged. God please forgive me.”

  He felt the heavy snow cover him and watched his horse walk lazily away until it became distant, lost underneath the heavy snow and Asher did not call out or speak, the snow lying heavily upon his hair, lashes, covering his already white hair.

  Closing his eyes he laid against the snow covered tree, the cold seeping into the very depths of his body, he sighed.

  There was warmth, the sound of distant low conversation, a female voice, he thought, briefly in hope, Angel, but although lilting had a different timbre than his wife and spoke Italian. He listened, trying to figure out where he was, only knowing that he was exceedingly warm and smelled yeasty bread and roasting meat.

  “Si,” the voice said and Asher slowly opened his eyes, viewing a nurse in a crisped starched uniform, he looked around, taking in the low cots, a long room…an infirmary. Upon the wall across from him was a heavy wooden cross.

  He began to speak in English and then stopped, speaking in Italian. “Where am I?” He asked, his voice rough, harsh, tired.

  “Our Lord of Mercy, hospital, my lord,” the nurse said, her face, kind and only slightly wrinkled felt his forehead. “We had hopes that you would return and you did. Four days you have been unconscious, the doctor will want to see you…we found the letters upon your person.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In the stand, next to your bed, I hold the key, my lord, they are safe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My lord?” The nurse asked hesitantly.

  “Yes?”

  “Your family…your wife and daughter they are very beautiful. I am certain they miss you.”

  He could only nod staring at the ceiling, for the first time in years he felt tears trickle from his eyes but he was too tired to wipe them away or care, he kept his gaze at the wooden beamed ceiling, he was the only person in the infirmary after the nurse left.

  He heard more voices, this time masculine, two as the tears dried upon his face and he looked to notice an elderly man who pulled up a chair next to him in a doctors uniform. The man exuded kindness as had the nurse and smiled the weathered skin creasing.

  “My lord,” he said in heavily accented Italian.

  “I speak Italian,” Asher returned and the doctor nodded thankfully.

  “My lord, you were very close to death, at the very gate, the nurses had more hope than I myself had, and prayed mightily over you, so if you wish to have died, you can blame them.”

  Asher snorted. “I shall duly think mightily of that.”

  “Your letters…my lord,” the doctor began, his face fallen. “They were found by me and the nurse and alone only we have read them. We thought you dead when you were found. Near frozen alive. It is a wonder you did not lose any appendages. I therefore feel bravado in asking, seeing as how you are taken ill and cannot argue against my logic…my lord, what madness do you carry?”

  Asher swallowed many times before he could speak. “A madness of the mind, manic depression, melancholia, bipolar disorder, sir. Every since I was a child there has been nothing except darkness and fear. I aimed to…either find a cure for my madness or end it all. I had not found a cure when you stumbled upon me.”

  “I have heard of this condition. I have seen how it ravages the mind, the spirit and the soul. Do you still wish to die?”

  Asher thought long and hard before shaking his head. “No.”

  “What occurred that would change it to so?”

  “Before I, before I closed my eyes, sitting underneath the tree, laden with heavy snow, I thought of my daughter. The selfless love that she showed me…when I was aware of such. Her perfect face, her smile, the way her eyes lit. I wanted, I wanted to see her eyes light again. I wanted to smile and love her as she loved me. And then I saw my wife…saw how I had abused her, cursed at her, treated her
like the worse of animals, as if she was a dog, a slave, chattel and the utter horror and pain that washed over me….I had never felt such.”

  The doctor nodded, he to, lost in thought, the man’s pained words a horror.

  “And then…I felt it, a peace, and a stillness…forgiveness, towards me, who did not deserve such. The horror, the dread, the pain, the remorse I felt can never be fully explained and never will I make mention. I realized how I have withheld my love and forgiveness when I was showered with such. I deserve hell, death and eternal damnation. I deserve it and was not given it.”

  “My lord…” the doctor’s voice was heavy with emotion. “My lord, a call for salvation I have never heard so simplistically given.”

  “I know not.” Asher interrupted. “What salvation is. For long years I have ignored God, cursed him, and then simply forgot, erased Him from my memory. My parents they believe in him as does my wife. Yet I have kept far from him, until I sat at the tree.”

  “What happened?”

  “The stillness as I described…and then, heat, warmth, love, power, and my fear. The very touch of the Lord, the one whom my parents call King… a touch, something that flowed through me, that reached me that reached the unease and horror of my mind. I still feel it…the madness, but its…power over me, the power that I had allowed it…is gone, receded. I will fight it all the days my life, but…now, sir, I know not how to explain myself further.”

  “Now you are free.”

  Asher nodded and for the first time smiled. “Now I am free.”

  He stood uneasily at the door, feeling nervous, like a young boy, instead of a man of thirty two years. It had been nearly a year since he’d seen his wife and his daughter, that long since he spoken to his family or been in England. But he was here, in front of a picturesque two story small home, ivy gracing the beautiful brick front, a light dusting of snow covering the gardens, Christmas was in three days, the home was picturesque, a perfect home for his wife and daughter. His fingers clenched, unclenched before finally he knocked on the door, three times.

  As his heart beat in trepidation he wanted more than anything to turn away, to run, hide from the pain that he knew would fill Angels’ eyes, but he stilled his nerves, his jaw clench and finally slowly relaxed, just enough.

  When the door opened, he pulled his top hat off, not minding the dusting of snow; he’d stabled his horse himself in the back of the home, two other geldings housed there.

  “My lord?” The elderly woman, small and plump with rosy cheeks said, staring at his with curiosity. She knew him to be family, but who exactly she knew not, she’d met the extensive Hawthorne family; the young child’s uncles, grandparents, aunts and cousins, but she’d not met him. Her heart beat when recognition dawned upon her.

  “How do you do?” Asher asked. “Can you notify your mistress that Asher Hawthorne is in attendance?” He said.

  “Oh, yes, sir,” she said, inviting him in. “My lord, if you will follow me to the parlor,” she said, as Asher stepped in while she closed the door behind him. The hall was light, airy, with gleaming dark wood floors, the smell of lemon oil, baking bread and flowers filling the home with a smell so wonderfully enticing Asher knew he’d remember it for the rest of his life. This home held laughter, joy.

  “Your coat, my lord?” The servant asked, but Asher shook his head, he was not cold, just prepared if Angel asked him to leave, he kept his hat in his hands as the servant escorted him to the parlor.

  “Tea will be served momentarily,” she began.

  “No thank you,” Asher stated.

  “Yes, my lord, I shall notify the lady of your arrival.”

  “Thank you.”

  His heart beat with trepidation, he stilled his nerves even more, his mind racing, thoughts of the pain he’d inflicted upon his young wife more than he could bear. Instead, he glanced around in curiosity at the small, but comfortable parlor, everything tastefully done, heavy leather couches and chairs, clean, dark wood gleaming, books of ancient literature neatly placed, a roaring fire to chase away the December cold.

  The door that the servant closed opened slowly; he saw his wife and felt the world right itself.

  “Hello,” he began studying Angel, she’d gained weight, her cheeks were no longer as prominent, the hollows under her eyes gone, her hair restored to its shining glory in black, silky curls loosely pinned atop her head, her mouth glistened, she was dressed in a white, high wasted morning dress with small capped sleeved, her beauty astonished him, the peace within her. The whiteness of the gown offset her deep golden brown skin, her cheeks looked flushed as if she’d run, her lips parted slightly.

  He didn’t know what caused him to stride to her, he could not have stopped himself if he tried, he pulled her to him, the fear melting away and brought his lips to hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck, deep emotion racing through his body. “I am sorry, Angel, I am sorry,” he repeated over and over again, tears falling down his eyes to combine with hers. “I am sorry for the all the pain that t I have inflicted upon you, the words that I wish I could take back, my actions. I am sorry my love, I am so sorry,” he whispered over and over, cupping her face in his large, callused hands. “If I can erase the past I would, forever, make you forget everything that I have ever done to you in anger, in hate.” He whispered, the tears falling, meeting her eyes in a sea of her own tears as she sobbed. “I will make it up to you and Glory, if you will accept me back. But I understand if you do not. Your love was given to me and I was a fool, a damned fool for not basking in it when I had it. Please, my love, please, Angel,” he said, kissing her, not knowing what he begged for but whatever it was, she was the answer, the very key to everything.

  “Asher, Asher,” she kept whispering.

  “I see you, my love, I see you.” He said.

  “Your eyes, Asher, you are different,” she said, staring at him, the veil that had always covered him, the darkness in his eyes, it was gone, they were perfect feline, bright.

  “I am different,” he returned.

  “You found a cure? A treatment?” She asked, holding on to his arms as if for dear life.

  He nodded, “I found peace when I had none, when I was finally so tired of fighting, of the madness, and the Lord saw fit to heal me, to ease my pain, my lady. I will not rush you or hurry you, Angel. I know that I have to earn your trust and Glory’s’ as well. This I do not question.”

  Nodding, both of their tears eased as she smiled, laughing, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You are back!” She exclaimed. “I prayed for your soul.”

  “Were you upset?”

  “No, my lord, no, your letters reached us intact, I read them to Glory every night, I understood, I knew this was for the best, I hoped and I prayed, I envisioned this day, the Lord has answered my prayers. Even your brothers prayed, I would not have it any other way. Glory and I prayed for you every night, no matter what and I was at peace my lord, if you were to return to us…or if you were not. I was at peace.”

  “Where is she?” He asked his heart beating even more rapidly at the thought of his small daughter, wanting to see her, to kiss her face, to hug her to him.

  “Come,” Angel said, pulling at Asher. “Come,” she said racing up the stairs and he followed, amazed at her excitement, the love that she still showed him, the forgiveness. He was not worthy of her, never, in a million years, but he would make up for it, he would cherish his wife and his family, he would have it no other way.

  She stopped before a half parted door, a young child’s voice playing an imaginary game, she smiled. “She won’t be in fear,” Angel said. “We hoped for this day, we hoped to the Lord for this day. She misses you,” she said.

  Asher could not breath, Angel slowly opened the door, and the little girls’ voice stilled, as she looked up, smiling, “Mommy, mommy,” she said before stopping her eyes opening wide, at three years of age she was the very image of her parents, black hair, golden skin, feline eyes in a picture perfect heart
shaped face, two deep dimples on each side of her perfect rosebud mouth. “Daddy!” She screamed, racing towards him and he picked her up, swung her around and Asher broke, everything within him broke upon that cheery winter’s afternoon, three days before Christmas.

  “It’s alright, Daddy,” Glory said sweetly, patting his shoulder and kissing his face as his tears fell. “It’s alright, we missed you to,” she said sweetly before laying her head upon his shoulders, patting his shoulder in comfort.

  They stayed in her bedroom for most of the day, Asher smiling, playing dolls and tea with his daughter and wife, reading to her, throwing her in the air, as the hours raced away and before the family knew it, it was time for dinner. The servants greeted him warmly when they went downstairs, Glory still in his arms as they ate dinner in the cozy dining room, Glory keeping up a rambling conversation, feeding her father every now and again, babbling incessantly and sweetly. It was no surprise that the newly reunited family retired to the study until well into the wee hours of the night, and it was well past twelve when Glory fell asleep in her father’s arms.

  He did not want to leave her and kept her, not caring that she drooled upon his clothing as Angel sat right next to them, her hands holding Asher’s free arm. “Asher,” she said, smiling, God had restored her as well as Asher. She was no longer afraid of her husband, had found her strength again, she had known that if Asher had died or if had forevermore left she and Glory would survive, the earth did not rise and set on Asher as she’d once believed and she’d also forgiven him, for the Lord had allowed her to see that Asher’s’ pain and the depth of hurt that festered within him was more than her mind could ever grasp and when she placed herself in his shoes, she could do nothing but lament regarding her husband and wanted nothing more but to help carry his burden. God had healed them both in their time away from each other. “Will you tell me what occurred?”

  Asher nodded, shifting Glory in his arms. “I traveled my lady, with nothing but my horse, a couple of pairs of clothes and some personal effects. I would keep up with the days by writing the date on my hand before I went to sleep and checking it against the small journal I kept. When I was not traveling, I would write letters to you and Glory, or draw your faces upon parchment paper. I kept quiet, often not seeing another person for days or even weeks on end. My mind drove me to near madness until I found myself nearly two weeks without food and then more than three day without water. I was deep in a forest, the snow falling heavily, I was too weak to care, I sat beneath a tree, the snow falling upon me, and the thought of Glory and you and then it began forgiveness. When I awoke, I was in an infirmary; amazingly enough I was less than half a mile from a main road, a small village in the Italian Alps. The nurse and doctor were…saints. They brought me back from deaths door, encouraged me, were patient and kind. I showed them the pictures of you; spoke of you all, my family. They hurried me through the healing process and prayed over me often. As soon as I was able I left, thoughts of you and Glory empowering me, the release of the past, the forgiveness bestowed upon me by God. I arrived this morning and came straight away here. I could not have denied myself even if it meant you would be at peace for all your life. I wanted to see you and Glory, I longed for you two, my heart was adrift. I will make up all the pain, the horror of our shared past, my Angel. I have finally laid to rest the pain of my past. I may always fight this madness but I will never allow it to consume me as it once had. No matter what. No matter if you tell me to go away or never want to see me again. No matter how life turns, I will count the blessings that have been given me. I owe the Lord and you no less.”