Out of the Ashes

by Lori Dillon

  Taking the piece of canvas he’d cut, he draped it over her left shoulder, overlapping the sides at her waist.

  “If you will hold the sides together, madam?”

  He felt a small tremor race through Sera’s body as he reached around her to tie the rope around her waist. He wasn’t immune to her, either. As he drew back, he couldn’t resist stealing a small kiss. But once their lips touched, it was as if they hadn’t made love all night long. He couldn’t believe he could want her again so soon, but he did.

  With a groan, he pulled back and took in the makeshift dress. For the moment, he just watched her standing there. Then the sun broke over the wall and a brilliant ray of light temporarily blinded him.

  Blinking through the glare, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Instead of the coarse rope around her waist, she wore an ornate belt of small golden links. Instead of brown hair falling in tangled waves about her shoulders, the locks were pulled up and styled in soft curls around her beautiful face. And instead of a filthy piece of bleached canvas, a white Roman gown draped her slim figure.

  He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he saw.

  “David? Is something wrong?”

  When he opened his eyes, she was back, just as she should be, his Sera.

  “No, it’s just that…” She wouldn’t believe him if he told her. “You look like you were born to wear a toga.”

  She ran her hand down the canvas, smoothing out the folds as if it were a gown made of the finest silk.

  “It’s not half bad, but I don’t think I’ll be able to work in the ruins in something like this.”

  She turned then and looked out the doorway.

  “Speaking of the ruins, I guess it’s time to leave.”

  *

  Sera was almost afraid to walk through the opening.

  It was too silent outside.

  Letting David lean on her, they stepped out into a very different Pompeii. The once cleared street was now a minefield of rubble, scattered with stones shaken loose from fragile walls by the vibrations of the bombs. Bits and pieces of wood, plastic, and even some metal littered the ground, tossed over the wall from the German camp by the force of the blasts. She didn’t want to examine the debris too closely, afraid of what she might find. No doubt, many of the German soldiers had not survived the night, and she didn’t want to see evidence of what was left of them under her feet.

  Finally, she dared to look at the excavation site, and her heart nearly broke at what she saw.

  The tent over the body cavity was ripped to shreds. A large, gaping hole was torn in the middle of the fabric, the edges of white canvas still attached to the supports waving in the breeze like tiny flags of surrender. A beam of sunlight pierced through the opening, casting a glow over the mound like a spotlight on the stage.

  Gone was the rounded, earthen dome dotted with white spots of dried plaster. Instead, jagged lines and fissures fractured the hard volcanic crust, revealing glimpses of its white interior.

  “Oh, no.” It looked worse than she could have imagined.

  She had taken only one step toward it before David stopped her with a hand around her upper arm. It wasn’t a forceful restraint, but more like a caress, like the touch of a bracelet on the skin.

  “Sera, wait.”

  The concern in his eyes warmed her heart. His hand on her arm felt comforting, natural. Was he trying to stop her? To prevent her from seeing what the Allies had done to the plaster cast? What did it matter? She would have to see it sooner or later.

  He seemed to read her thoughts and released her.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She smiled, but it felt pained.

  “Better to do it now, while we’re alone, than reveal our greatest discovery destroyed in front of the others.”

  She turned and took first one, then another step toward the mound, afraid of what she might find when she drew near. She stopped and looked back to him once more, reaching out her hand to him.

  “Come with me.”

  He hobbled up to her, and together they approached the mound.

  “Is it ruined?”

  At first glance, it looked as though it was. Then Sera knelt to examine it closer. She pried one of the chunks off in her hand and lifted it carefully from the mound. Beneath, the stark white of the plaster cast glared up at her. She reached out and removed another, then another.

  Unlike the plaster cast of the child, where they’d had to painstakingly chip the volcanic matter away, the pieces of the mound peeled away easily, like the cracked shell of a hard-boiled egg. With each chunk that fell away, more of the cast was slowly revealed.

  Her heart began to pound. The cast underneath seemed to be untouched, perfectly preserved.

  “I think it’s okay.”

  David struggled to lower himself down beside her.

  Her hands shook with each piece of hard ash she removed. What should have taken them hours seemed to take only minutes as the hard shell fell away to reveal the white plaster cast beneath.

  “I think I found a leg over here,” David said.

  “I’ve got a head.”

  “Here’s a hand. It looks like he’s holding onto something.”

  “No.” Sera sat back as the midsection was revealed. Her stomach tightened in knots as the reality of what lay beneath set in. “He’s holding onto someone. It looks like there are two of them in here.”

  Surprised, David glanced from the cast, to Sera and back again.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Look,” she pointed to a raised area. “There’s the form of an arm here. And here,” she indicated a hump on the smaller figure, just below the other’s arm. “It looks like the curve of a hip.”

  “So what do you think?”

  Sera swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry.

  “I can’t be sure until we uncover more of it.”

  Her fingers itched to pull another chunk from the pile, but then she looked at David, sitting on the ground with his injured leg stretched out beside him, and guilt tugged at her conscience.

  “But we should get you to a hospital first.”

  “Are you kidding? And leave this half-finished?” He shook his head and smiled at her. “I made it through the night. I think I can handle a few more minutes here. I’m not about to let you do this without me.”

  Sera grinned. He was going to make a fine archeologist yet.

  She retrieved some of the tools to carefully chip away at the more stubborn pieces of the volcanic casing. The minutes turned into hours as the sun slowly rose up over the walls of the ruins. By the time they were done, the glowing orb sat high in the sky.

  David used one of the tent poles to pull himself to his feet. Although she was sweaty and dirty, a shiver raced through Sera as she removed the last of the hardened ash from around the heads of the victims. Below were two faces, looking so peaceful and calm, like two lovers asleep in each other’s arms.

  Excitement and sorrow blended together, threatening to overwhelm her.

  “Can you tell what… who they were?”

  Sera shook herself, trying to bring herself back to the detached archeologist she needed to be. She examined the figures more closely.

  “This one over here,” she pointed to the larger one on its side, “is definitely a man.” She cocked her head, noticing the impression of a wide belt at his waist. “By the looks of him, he was a slave.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “See the wide belt he was wearing? It’s likely a slave belt. And the impression of the weave of his garment is very course, low quality.”

  “And the other one? It looks smaller. Is it a woman?”

  Sera looked at the other figure, partially covered by the man’s body.

  “It is.” Then she looked closer. “This is interesting.”

  “What?”

  “Well, like I said, he’s obviously a slave, but she appears to be from the upper classes. The style of her garment is much fi
ner than his, and instead of a slave belt, it looks like she was wearing one of metal or maybe even gold links. It’s odd to find them together like this.”

  She looked up and noticed his face had gone rather pale.

  “David, what’s wrong? Is your leg hurting you?”

  “What? No. What else can you tell about them?”

  Sera nodded, wondering why what she’d said seemed to bother him so much.

  She stood and walked around the figures until she stood beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her, much like the man held the woman before them. In that instant, a wave of energy coursed through her, beginning in her toes and traveling up through her body to tingle along her scalp. It was as if a connection from the past reached out from the plaster cast and suddenly linked her to the tragedy of centuries ago, now lying revealed before her eyes.

  David’s arms tightened around her, and she heard his swift intake of breath, as if he, too, felt the emotions that suddenly seemed to swirl in the air around them.

  “It looks like he was trying to shield her, to protect her from the falling debris.” She felt her eyes well up with unshed tears. “He must have loved her very much.”

  David softly kissed her temple.

  “Yes, I think he did.”

  Staring at the tragic lovers, Sera knew deep in her soul that it was true.

  Whoever they were, they had loved each other to the very end.

  Chapter 32

  “They were supposed to get married first, then procreate.”

  Smithers clicked the remote control and the white screen disappeared into the clouds, taking the image of David and Sera with them.

  “Got things a little backwards, didn’t you?”

  “Perhaps,” Marsha sniffed. “The end result’s the same. They’re finally together, like they were always meant to be.”

  “Besides,” Hershel coughed into his fist. “It was such a beautiful moment, I couldn’t resist letting it happen.”

  “Hershel!” Marsha’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “You watched?”

  “Of course not.” He looked insulted, then squirmed slightly in his chair. “At least not all of it. Once I was certain they were safe, and David wasn’t going to bleed to death, I gave them their privacy.”

  “Good.” Marsha fanned herself with her hand. “After all, there’s only so much this old heart of mine can handle.”

  “Marsha, you haven’t had a real heart for over twenty-five centuries.”

  She glared at him. “Well, I did for a while, and it nearly stopped beating when you died.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I don’t know how it happened.” As Marsha continued to glare at him, Hershel searched to find a silver lining to appease her. “Besides, being an angel again enabled me to protect the plaster cast. Serafina would have been devastated if it had been destroyed.”

  “But you didn’t worry that I would be devastated? I had to finish everything—help David recover, host their wedding before he was shipped back to the States, arrange your funeral. How could you do that to me?” Marsha turned and continued to vent her anger on Smithers. “And why didn’t you warn me?”

  “I did.” Smithers sat back in his chair. He had begun to wonder when they would realize they were still in his office. “That day I came to the jailhouse.”

  Marsha and Hershel exchanged confused looks as they tried to recall the conversation that day.

  Seeing they were never going to figure it out for themselves, Smithers enlightened them. “I said, if you didn’t get David and Serafina out of Italy, someone was going to die.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Marsha huffed. “We thought you meant David or Serafina, not one of us.”

  Smithers shrugged. “Obviously, you thought wrong.”

  “Well,” Marsha sighed as she rose to her feet and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “At least everything worked out in the end.”

  “Not so fast.” Smithers held up a hand that effectively halted Hershel’s rising rear end in mid-air. “Your jobs are not over yet.”

  “They’re not?” They both sank back down into their chairs.

  “Yes. You’ve only just succeeded in bringing your two clients together. Now, as their guardian angels, you must see them through the rest of their natural lives.” He handed each of them a packet of papers. “It’s your responsibility to watch over them, and their children, and their children’s children.”

  “Oh.” Marsha flipped through the pages. “But we can do that from up here, can’t we? I mean, we don’t have to go on location again, do we?”

  “No, as long as we don’t have any more incidents that need your personal attention.”

  Hershel’s face took on a puzzled look, and he glanced at his wife.

  “By the way, how is it that you’re here now? You didn’t die. Won’t Serafina and David notice you’re gone?”

  “No.” Marsha crossed her arms and gave her husband a cold shoulder. “Since you left me all alone, I sold them the villa and told them I was going to live with my niece in Salerno.”

  “But we don’t have a niece.” Hershel looked more confused than ever. “Do we?”

  “Of course not, Hershel. But they don’t know that. Besides, they’re going to live in America until the war is over. The army is sending David home to recover, and Serafina is going with him. Plus, it’s much safer for the baby, you know.”

  “Baby? What baby?” Hershel and Smithers questioned in unison.

  “The baby they conceived that night.” Marsha smiled smugly at the two shocked angels. “See, neither of you know everything.”

  “I love my mountain. She and I dwell together in solitude mysterious and terrible… I could not leave her. I am wedded to her forever; my few friends say that her breath will scorch and wither my poor life one of these days; that she will bury my house in streams of liquid metal or raze it to its very foundation. Already she has hurt me, has injured me sorely. Yet I forgive her, I wait upon her, I am hers always.”

  — Professor R.V. Matteucci,

  Director of the Vesuvian Observatory,

  as quoted in The Cosmopolitan magazine, @ 1900

  Epilogue

  Six decades later

  The room was filled with light, the curtains thrown open to let in the first glorious rays of dawn. David sat beside the bed, holding onto Sera’s weathered, blue-veined hand as if he could pull her back from the angels that had surely come to claim her.

  As hard as it was for him, he knew he had to let her go.

  “You’ve fought long and hard, cara mia. It’s time.”

  The frail chest under the crisp white sheet rose and fell steadily, and he swore each breath would be her last.

  “Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. After all, I’ve got the kids to keep me company, now don’t I?”

  He squeezed Sera’s hand, as he’d often done every time he walked past her. Always a gentle touch, a loving caress to let her know that even after all these years, he still loved her.

  “We’ve had a wonderful life together, haven’t we? And we’ve been blessed with two wonderful children and five beautiful grandchildren to show for it. I’d say we didn’t do too bad for ourselves.”

  Sera’s breathing became ragged, and David panicked, almost reaching for the buzzer that would bring the hospice nurse running into the room.

  He stopped himself. No, it was better this way. It was what she wanted—to go now, peacefully in her sleep, in the comfort of their home. After moving heaven and earth to get her released from the hospital, he couldn’t risk them taking her back now. If she was going to leave him, then she would want to do it here, where they had spent most of their lives together.

  As he watched, Sera drew in one last breath, and with what David could have sworn was a gentle squeeze of his hand, she quietly slipped away.

  *

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, David gazed out the window at the quaint town of Pompeii. It was a view he’d sha
red with Sera for over sixty years.

  Oh, Sera, how am I to go on without you now?

  A soft knock rapped on his door, and he turned to see his family crowded in the hallway. His oldest, Marie, stood in the doorway with her husband and their two kids. Behind her stood his son, Bert, with his wife and their three. Named after Maria and Heberto, the kids, as he called them, were both in their fifties, and the grandchildren were grown with busy lives of their own. Old habits died hard, he supposed.

  “Papà,” Marie said. “We’re going down to the piazza for lunch. Are you coming?”

  “No, you go on without me. I’m not hungry.”

  Marie looked as if she was about to argue with him, and then seemed to change her mind. She was so much like her mother, sometimes it made his heart ache.

  She stepped into the room and came to sit beside him.

  “Are you all right, papà?”

  David breathed in deeply and stared at the brass urn sitting on the table by the window.

  “I’ll be fine, honey. Just as soon as I do what I have to do.”

  Marie squeezed his shoulder, shaking her head. “I’ll never understand why mamma wanted to be cremated.”

  “When I first met your mother, she was knee deep in the ashes of Pompeii.” David chuckled at the memory. “She didn’t seem to mind them then, so I don’t think she’ll mind being a part of them now.” He patted Marie’s knee. “It’s what she wanted. Besides, she always loved working outdoors, so I don’t think a coffin would have suited her anyhow.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it would have. She always was a free spirit, right up to the end.”

  “Yes, she was. It was one of the things I loved most about her.”

  Marie kissed him on his cheek.

  “Call my cell phone if you need us. We won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. I’ll be fine.”

  As his family left, David turned and stared out the window once more, looking through the clouds to the mountain of Vesuvius in the distance.

  When the villa grew too silent, he stood up and walked over to the table. He picked up the brass urn with Sera’s ashes, caressing its smooth polished surface with his thumb.