by A. D. Koboah
Albert broke the news to him and all the resentment I had held toward my father began to seem extremely petty when I saw his reaction through Philip’s young eyes. The awful moment when the words were said had stayed with Philip all his life. My father’s face had been completely drained of colour and emotion, leaving it a grey, bewildered shell. He staggered back from the two of them, and for once in his life, he appeared completely unsure of himself, as if the ground beneath his feet had been torn away.
Then rage flooded his features. He threw the glass in his hand against the wall, then turned in a rage and smashed the other glasses on the table along with a decanter of brandy. Philip made a move toward him, to try and halt the mindless rage as he tore through the room upending furniture, but Albert blocked his path with one arm, and shook his head at him.
My father eventually come to a stop amidst the wreckage and the last image of that moment was of my father slumping to his knees, blood streaming from a cut from one hand as he held them to his face and wept.
Philip remained silent for a few moments, completely absorbed in the painful memory.
He wouldn’t accept it, he continued. He left for the plantation in America. Even when they found some of your belongings among what remained of the mansion, he still wouldn’t believe it. He searched America for you until he was too ill to travel. And even on his death bed, he wouldn’t accept that you were dead. He made us promise to keep looking for you. I didn’t listen. I gave up on you.
I was shocked to learn this and saw memories along with the words. My father had been wracked with guilt and misery for the rest of his life. Philip would often come and find him brooding alone in his study, the very room we had argued so often. Throughout all those years in the wilderness, I had never really given my family much thought, never ever considered their suffering.
No, Philip, you never gave up on me. I was lost for so long, there was nothing any of you could have done for me.
What happened to you? Why have you only returned now, and exactly as you were the night you left for the Americas?
Something terrible. I... It must be evident to you that I am no longer human. As I said, I was lost and I did not think I could return. But I see now that I should have. That the rejection I perceived may not have occurred and I could have spared you all so much suffering. But perhaps I can help you in a small way now. I may be able to heal your illnesses.
You can make me young again?
I shook my head. I was tempted, so tempted to make false promises to him and turn him into a vampire so I could keep him with me forever. What stopped me was his vanity. He mourned his youth. To be old, forever, was something he would never forgive me for.
But I can try and heal you, stop the pain, maybe give you a few more years.
You can do that?
Yes.
He was silent as he searched my face. He eventually shook his head.
No. I am ready. The years have been good to me. Whatever this miracle to have kept you young, I can see it has also brought you misery.
I nodded as he reached for my face with his good hand. You were such a good man. I’m so sorry, Avery, for whatever you have suffered.
I kissed his hand before placing it on the covers.
You and Albert used to play a little game with me, I said, looking at our moments together through his eyes.
Philip’s expression changed slightly and a mischievous gleam appeared in his eye, quickly dampened by guilt. But when he saw I was amused, he relaxed and even chuckled.
He remembered me as being a kindly gentle man whose demeanour and piety belied my youth as I tried to lead him and Albert down the path of righteousness. I was infinitely patient, unless my father was concerned and he and Albert used to joke at how many veiled insults I could manage to make at our father throughout the course of a conversation, all under the pretext of educating the two of them about the ways of the Lord. So far the highest had been twelve. But Philip had been deliberately finding ways to elicit these veiled insults, something I had been completely unaware of. I merely remembered that guileless expression of his and those innocent blue eyes.
I know I do not have long now. Stay with me until the end, he said.
Nothing will keep me away.
He asked me to call his daughter back into the room and I watched in frustration as he over-exerted himself and struggled to speak, eventually writing down what he wanted with his good hand.
“The deeds to the house on Germen Street. It belongs to him. Make sure it is returned to him,” my niece read out loud from the paper.
Jennifer appeared surprised at her father’s vehemence. But she merely glanced at me and nodded. The house was being let at present, but she promised him she would make sure the deeds were given to me.
I wanted to stay with him, but it was getting late and he was exhausted. But I knew he would not sleep with me there, so I eventually forced him into a deep sleep. The doctor had given him a week at best, but perhaps with enough rest, he would outlive that prognosis. I stroked his head and then followed my niece out of the room.
Outside in the corridor, she fixed me with a penetrating stare.
“In all the confusion, I don’t believe I found out your name.”
“I...it...Avery. Avery Wentworth.”
Although poised, she was visibly surprised. “I see. Let me show you something.”
She led me down a flight of stairs to a dining room and stopped in front of a large painting.
“Here he is. Reverend Avery Wentworth.” There was a hint of pride in her voice. “Yes, I thought I knew your face. You look exactly like him. He was the one shining example in our family and was respected by everyone who met him. No one that has ever met him had a bad word to say about him. By all accounts, he was a good man.”
I stared up at the painting of myself. I looked bored, my expression surly. I remembered that day well. Gossip had reached me regarding my father’s latest exploits. Apparently he had seduced the wife of one of his oldest friends. She was with child and no one could say whether or not that child belonged to my father or her husband. So I was annoyed at him, especially since I liked the man in question. He had been a good friend to my father and extremely kind to me, especially after my mother died.
“Reverend Avery Wentworth. In some ways he was just as flawed, if not more so than his brothers and father,” I said.
“How so?”
“‘Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?’” She studied me in silence as I gazed at the painting and the immature man I had been. “For all his virtues, he was not able to grasp one of the crucial teachings of that Bible he carried with him. That of forgiveness.”
“You speak as if you knew him.” I tore my eyes away from the painting. Her gaze was frank and there was curiosity in her eyes. “But, of course, he died long before you were born.”
I nodded, noting her cynical smile.
“Now why do I get the feeling that there is much that you and my father are not telling me?”
I faced my niece. She seemed like a good, honest woman. I was proud of this gracious young woman and wished I could have been there to watch her grow up.
“There is. But know that the love you saw between us was very real. I only wish I...”
She placed a comforting hand on my arm and led me away from the painting.
“I know that. He would not have insisted the house be given to you if he didn’t care for you a great deal. You being here has made him very happy, the happiest I have seen him for a very long time. For that reason alone, I will let the two of you keep whatever secrets you share—for now. But I promise you, one day I will demand you tell me and I should tell you now, I can be very obstinate when I want to be.”
“I promise, one day I will tell you whatever you wish,” I said, knowing I would never do that.
I spent every day of the next two weeks with Philip, coming to see him in t
he evenings. And I would stay with him long after he had fallen asleep. My niece and the rest of the family left us alone and we talked, exchanging memories of the past fifty years. I showed him America, focusing on the landscape, avoiding the time I had spent in the wilderness. Then I showed him Luna.
“Oh, if only I was young again,” he stated.
He seemed to regain his vitality in those two weeks, and I had hopes he would recover, but in the end, it was merely wishful thinking. One night he slipped into a sleep he would never wake from, and as dawn broke over London, he was dead. Jennifer discovered us in the morning, and without saying a word, she gently pulled my hand out of his before leading me out of the room.
Her eyes were shimmering with tears as she handed me a long wooden box.
“This is something he insisted be given to you along with the deeds to the house on Germen Street.”
I opened the box. Inside were the two swords that had been my father’s pride and joy. I recalled the last night I had seen him, the tenderness in his eyes as he spoke of the gift he had for me. On the hilt of one of the swords was a small note.
To my firstborn, Avery.
Your mother would be proud of the man you have become.
My niece watched me carefully, a slight frown marring her brow as I struggled to contain my emotions. Pulling the note away from the sword, I placed it carefully in my pocket and closed the box.
“Yes, I see you have a great deal to explain to me,” she said with a small smile as she led me away from Philip’s room. “But I will leave you be—for now.”
I stayed in London for the funeral, but did not attend it. Instead I mourned him from a distance, not a part of the life he had lived, or the family that gathered around his casket as it was laid into the ground. I was just a ghoul on the outside looking in on the natural seasons and rhythms of life. Things seemed extremely bleak that morning, but I had more now than when I had come to London. I had my relatives, my father’s and brother’s descendants to care for as well as Luna’s family. I even had Mama Akosua. That was something to live—or should I say exist—for.
I went straight to the Marshall plantation when I returned to Mississippi. Mama’s cabin door was open and she was making tea for two when I entered and sat down.
For the first few moments there was only silence apart from the natural rhythms of the woodlands and the breathing of the sleeping slaves around us. Then she reached across the table and placed both hands over mine, the first time she had touched me. I gripped her hands, needing the comfort of that touch.
“You were in time.”
I nodded, tears filling my eyes.
She exhaled, her face solemn. “Perhaps I should have told you, prepared you, but I could not be sure he would be alive by the time you got there.”
“Thank you,” I said when I could speak.
We remained with our hands clasped for a while.
Chapter 24
The trip to England gave me a stronger sense of purpose when I returned to America and from then on, I focused all my energies on amassing a great deal of wealth. I now had two families to care for, Luna’s and my own. So I acquired land all over America and in England, not necessarily by honest means. I also established businesses, managed for me by others. Mama advised me greatly in these matters, her intuition over which ventures I should pursue proving to be right time and again. I soon became an extremely wealthy man and provided for Luna and my own family when needed. I also gave generously to abolitionist movements, hoping I would live to see the evil of slavery, which had destroyed so many, come to an end.
So life went on around me and I continued to walk among men.
I tried to forget Luna, and time was supposed to be the great healer, but instead of decreasing the anguish I felt at losing her, the pain deepened as the years wore on. There were other women during those years, but many did not last more than a few months. Perhaps my interest could be captured by beauty, or a seemingly quick mind, but no one could compare to Luna, and I quickly lost interest. Luna was simply unique. There was no one who could ever replace her, so I continued to yearn for her and all I had given up.
In those years my friendship with Mama Akosua deepened. I discovered her refusal to be freed had nothing to do with ill feeling toward me. She had merely not wanted to leave Ebenezer, a little boy on the plantation who had become like a son to her. But she was eventually freed and I had a small house built for her not that far from Luna’s home.
Every Wednesday I arrived at her home and the front door was always left open for me.
“Good evening, Mama Akosua,” I said when I entered.
“Wɔfa Avery, what have I said to you about calling me Mama?” This was an argument we’d had on many occasions. “How can you address someone who is younger than you as Mama? In my culture we must show our elders respect at all times. How can I let you call me Mama?”
“Mama,” I insisted. “Your wisdom has earned you the term. It would not be right for me to call you anything but Mama Akosua.”
She grumbled and scolded, but could not get me to stop calling her Mama. But I sensed it pleased her somehow.
She told me everything there was to tell about herself and Luna, and she no longer bothered to keep her thoughts hidden from me, although I kept her mind shielded from mine as a matter of respect. But occasionally, something slipped through as it did one night when we were playing Awore, a game from her native land.
It had been my turn to play, but I stopped and glanced up at her in consternation.
“What happened?” I asked.
She looked up, puzzled for a few seconds, before she realised what I was referring to.
“Ah, Wɔfa Avery. It is only now you realise Luna is angry with me? I thought you had seen that long before now.”
“But it has been years. What could cause her to be angry with you for so long?”
“She knows you come and sit with me. She feels betrayed.”
I leaned back in my seat, deeply worried. “But does she not know that—”
She waved my words away. “Wɔfa Avery, that is the least of my worries when it comes to Luna. I had always believed the powers of our ancestors were lost when it came to Luna, but I am beginning to see I was wrong. She is an incredibly powerful witch, much more so than I am.”
“Go on.”
“You remember something blocked me when I tried to find you. I believe it was Luna.”
“But she would have told me this.”
“That is the frightening thing. I do not think she is aware of what it is she has done. You see why I am worried?”
I nodded.
“The power she has is such that has never been heard of among my people. It is dangerous for someone to have that kind of power, so much so if they use it without even being aware of it.”
“I see. So what should we do?”
“If there is anything that can be done, I do not know of it.”
We lapsed into silence again. She had successfully steered the conversation away from their disagreement, but it worried me.
Although living without Luna was like living with an incurable wound, I was relatively content during those days. But the grim spectre of death had begun to stalk my waking moments. It first reared its head with Julia. She had been with me for many years now and I treated the horse almost as if it were a child that was to be pampered and indulged every moment of her life. But I still could not keep her with me. Time had begun to prey on Julia and old age soon laid claim to her.
One morning, I went down to the stables to check on her, as I did every morning before I retired for the day and found she could not stand. She had been suffering with pain for some time now and I numbed her mind to it. But seeing her crippled like this made me face the inevitable. She was going to be taken from me and there was not much I could do about it, unless I chose to curse the horse by turning it into an abomination. I knelt down and stroked her. She laid her head against me in a gesture of surrender and
weariness that tore at my heart. Tears filled my eyes as I rose to my feet. There was only one course of action I could take. I went back to the mansion to get what I would need before I lost courage.
I took Julia with me into the ether. We materialised in the grasslands where I found her all those years ago. It was deserted, the sky a grey wasteland. She merely watched me steadily, as if she knew what it was I meant to do. When I pulled out the gun and aimed it at her head, she closed her eyes and brought her head down to the ground. My hand shook and I had to take a few moments to steady it. I pulled the trigger as tears blurred the scene before my eyes.
I wept as I buried her under the empty sky. I remained by the grave long after dawn drifted into morning. Then I went home. Anxiety gripped me along with my grief and I was not able to sleep that day. As the weeks wore on, it diminished, but did not leave me entirely.
It remained like an ominous shadow as the years continued to march on and I watched Mama Akosua age, the lines on her face deepening, her movements marked by the rigors of age as her body deferred to it. She had become a rock over the years and her wisdom had been invaluable to me. I did not know what would become of me once she, and then Luna, left this Earth and I would be alone once more.
One night, I arrived at Mama Akosua’s home as usual on a Wednesday night and found it empty. I was immediately uneasy, for it was not like Mama to be away from home for long in case someone should come calling in need of her aid. I sat outside, debating whether or not to somehow alert Luna to her disappearance, when I felt something. It was very faint, nothing more than an impression, like the remembrance of a taste of something on your lips. But it had been there and I was sure it was Mama. Uncertain of what I should do, or where I was supposed to go, I threw myself into the woodland. Only guessing at where I would find her, I headed for the only thing I knew of that was more powerful than Mama.
The chapel loomed before me, the night time shadows, rather than diminishing it, seeming to enhance its menacing aura with every slash of moonlight across its beaten form. Even now, after so many years, I hesitated to approach it, but I knew Mama was there, I could hear her faint heartbeat and her breathing, which was incredibly slow and shallow. That made me push past my fear. I hurtled myself through space and appeared in the chapel.