Ashes Remain

by Alethea Stauron

  Lucius patrols a weaving stroll through walls of the upstairs and down into the living area. He centers himself at ground level between loftways. Between two rooms, his feet are planted on her living room rug, noting difference between what’s precious and predator. “Now I’m juggling battles between hidden troops and a pawn. Clever move,” lowering his expression, “… because I already wanna kill him.”

  ◆◆◆

  Josephine fixes her hair, looping knot braids with corkscrew curls draping to one side of her shoulder, adding small heathers and baby’s breath. She plays her maid of honor position in her head, reminding herself, “Of course, Amber’s the star of the show… I’m just the flashy backdrop.” She smiles at her reflection, “Hope I catch the bouquet.”

  Mascara brushes her fanning peacock feathers out as far as they can go. She dabs a little more. A smoky color on the outer corner of radiant hazel eyes. Yellows pop and blues glimmer like glitter between eyelids, reminding her how rare her eye color really is. She poses, admiring her ensemble flashing back through mirror reflections, “No sloppy breakfast this morning,” sliding fingers over her abdomen. “I’m perfect.” She twirls once like a ballerina, “I wish Lucius were here today.”

  ◆◆◆

  Downstairs, Josephine safeguards a refrigerated water bottle to cut hunger before banquet plates are served. She sips in front of refrigerator magnets, and Drake sluggishly makes his way down, scratching a naked belly, and yawning a stretched jaw. He speaks toward faint kitchen noises before reaching the bottom step. “I hope there’s a lot of alcohol because I don’t wake up this early to party for noth’n if not get’n paid. Days off don’t usually come so easy,” turning the corner. “I guess it’s a special occa-sion…” His jawline loosens.

  Josephine glances over, waving quietly.

  “Oh, darl’n. Are ya trying to find a husband at this thang? Dang, girl.”

  She covers a smile, “Morning, Drake. But it’s almost eleven o’clock. Not really early.”

  He jostles, as if trying to wake up, “You know… you should try modeling. I know a few guys who’d pay a lot of money to get you to spring up a calendar looking like that,” gesturing his finger, “I’d go with you. Make sure they do you right.” He shrugs one shoulder, “Kinda your bodyguard sorta thang.”

  “Thanks,” and inserts a definitive, “but I’m not interested. My dad would turn over in his grave,” exiting the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he reaches out as she passes by. She slides through his grip, gathering her things in the foyer. Drake says, “Where’s my friendly hug, girl? We’re friends now… ‘member?”

  “Don’t think so, Drake,” fluttering peacock feathers back at him. “I paid a lot of money for this dress and I ain’t gonna touch anything with it. I’m seriously skipping meals with it on.”

  He dramatically hits the floor, acting wounded, “Hurts so bad. So offensive, and unfriendly for a sweet, kind southerner to say.” He grunts, “Maybe… you could… give me a kiss before I… I… I die.”

  “I hope that’s premonition,” Lucius snarled outside.

  Josephine blows a quick kiss playfully with a giggle. A halfhearted wink initiates her first step and walks out the door without looking back. Drake reels his reach back over himself, “The dish she’s serving is smoke’n hot today,” and stands to his feet. “I hope there’s a buffet later.” He takes a couple steps upstairs. The lamp falls over, stealing attention from a dirty mind. Drake glances down through spindles, “Won’t be taking that with me.”

  ◆◆◆

  At the venue, a wedding photographer snaps choreographed shots. He places his camera over a tripod, “Lean in closer toward each other,” directing the wedding party, “… almost no breathing room.”

  Amber leans in toward Josephine. Heather’s nearly jab at her eye, “I hope you catch my bouquet because I hope you’re next.”

  “Me too,” Josephine snickered. “Like a linebacker.”

  “I think you mean defensive tight end.”

  “No idea, but I’ve snatched it in my head twenty million times already.”

  Amber asks through giggling, “Have you heard from Lucius yet,” smiling for the next picture, and squeezing cheeks until hair almost tangles together.

  Snap

  “No,” Josephine answered, “but sometimes my dad couldn’t contact us for months, depending on where he was.” Her body stiffens. She pauses with much weight tied to it, and says, “We have a lot to talk about when he gets back.”

  Amber’s eyes broaden, “Oh… sounds serious.”

  “He proposed. Then left.” Josephine dips shoulders. “I haven’t heard from him since. One letter. A few gifts. That’s all I have. I’m still faithful though.”

  “You have more patience than me. I just wish I could be a fly on the wall during that conversation.”

  “Let’s enjoy your day. We’ll talk later.”

  Amber cranks a brow, “Girl, he gonna get an earful.”

  “I know. Lots of questions brewing in my head,” Josephine rattles contagiously treacherous thoughts with a floating smile, “I can’t stay mad though. He’s like my dad — super sweet. He wouldn’t hurt a ladybug.” Forgiveness bubbles through a weightlifting expression, “He’s all heart under that muscle. I trust him.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Amber said, following hand motions of her photographer and poses. “You know what you’re doing. Your daddy raised you right.”

  The cameraman directs Josephine, “Wrap your arm through hers,” gesturing Amber’s bouquet, “Act like you’re taking them secretly. Give me those hungry eyes.”

  Amber jokes, “She can have ‘em if she wants. Her dad was a general. I want her married next anyway.”

  “What?” Josephine’s brows weaved tightly.

  “You know… your dad? The general over here. Or that’s what Mr. Admire told me.”

  “I never… knew he —

  “I think it’s just what Mr. Admire called him,” Amber shrugs, “among other things. I guess it’s not true if you didn’t know. You know how everyone respected Wesley. He gave orders. They all listened.”

  “Guess so.”

  ◆◆◆

  With bridal pictures well documented and every new green sprig of grass flattened beside a creek, bells chime above a chapel. A large gathering is escorted alongside decorated pews of a blissful sanctuary. Sharply dressed ushers direct well-dressed individuals to each seat predestined for either bridegroom or bride family and friends. Music is counting down. A ticking time bomb for one gentleman in particular.

  Gulp

  David fans himself. Sweat threatens his armpits pristine appearance. He breathes with a short spat of hyperventilation in front of groomsmen. Groomsmen who are currently keeping distance in a reserved area within the groom’s party. He occupies space in front of a mirror. Taking his time in concentrating, breathing deeply, walking in circles, acting as calm as he can, fumbling over the simplest of thoughts. Neil paces with him. The only brave soul willing to be within reach. Occasionally he pats a congealed shoulder. David says, “I’m so nervous,” his voice trembles, “I wanna hit something.”

  “But… not me.” Neil recoils a comforting hand. “You’ll do fine. You’ve been planning this for months, and already gone through rehearsal. Believe me, it’s easy.”

  “Augh.” David groaned.

  “It’s easy man… calm down,” Neil floats his palms out, “it’s like this, you say I do…” winking back at David, “… without throwing up.”

  David shoves his jawline, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “What then?”

  David angles his head. His brow to one side, “She’s made me wait. There was always a chaperone there. We still have a plane ride tonight too.”

  “Oh, dude,” Neil strokes his chin with a hidden chuckle.

  “I wanna kill something.” They glance at a group of groomsmen crowding a corner mirror. “I haven’t seen what she looks like today. It�
�s gonna make this worse. I already know. I can’t calm myself thinking of her… and can’t stop thinking of later either,” resting a skidded tongue over exhausted lips, “and in front of all these people too. I still gotta reception party.”

  Neil laughs until coughing. “Carissa did it to me too.” Neil pats a firm knot over David’s back. “And why we only dated three weeks before I was knee crawling around her. By our two-month anniversary… I said I do. Willing to do anything at that point. I couldn’t wait any longer.” He swallows down laughter, “I wanted to punch our cameraman for trying to catch a few more shots before we left. Luckily, we went to Galveston. I didn’t have to wait long. I don’t think we ever unpacked. I know how you feel.”

  David’s hand swings out, “What makes them like this? They know it drives us crazy. They do it on purpose.” His chin shakes, “I wanted to get married last year,” slapping at the air, “but, noooo,” gazing at his groomsmen, “she wants a fancy wedding,” dropping a shoulder, “driving me nuts in the process. I can’t tell you how many cold showers I’ve had to take.”

  “Actually,” Neil locks David’s eyes, “Mr. Admire.” thumbing back at himself, “My father-in-law showed me a few pictures. Pictures of how he would handle me if I touched his daughter without permission. Some of them had Josephine’s dad in them,” and shivers, massaging brows. “It scared the hell out of me. I was told to keep quiet. Or they’d bury me somewhere on the general’s land. Where no one would find me.”

  David glares off, “Makes sense,” glancing back at Neil, “Think I saw the same pictures,” gesturing toward an ever-shrinking body. “I couldn’t think of touching her inappropriately after seeing them. Or it cut the edge off of my drifting mind with them being so graphic. I thought they were photo-shopped at first. At least… what I told myself. Definitely motivation to stay pure.” David’s head hangs with a huff of laughter, “If I have daughters, I’m using those pictures for sure.”

  Neil grins a bobbing smile, “Me too,” and floats a fist out toward David. They dab knuckles. “That’s an awesome trick, man.”

  David thumbs back at himself, “We’re a team like the Admires, Hales, Jones, and Stewarts. I got your back, and you’ve got mine.”

  Drake is seated minutes before service, bowling a glare at stain-glass. “Worthless ceremony,” tumbling under his breath, “Bunch of do-gooders.” Wedding music changes. A drumroll softly plays with an organ piping in. And Josephine takes synchronized steps across special white carpet laid down. Followed by bridesmaids in sync with orchestrated notes. Drake’s eyes scream his thoughts,

  but

  Lucius hunches forward. Over an upper banister near ancient organ pipes. Memorizing every moment of ceremony. His first Anglican wedding he’s ever witnessed. He loses a breath when seeing Josephine. Soft light shimmers off her hair. Baby’s breath highlights like glitter around braids and corkscrewed curls. He presses off his heels, standing in awe. Her flowing dress takes his air from him. The music within the Anglican cathedral follows her steps. So much to take in, wishing he was beside her. “My God, she’s beautiful,” gripping and uncontrollable chest, allowing his tears to flow from a tradition he’s never beheld. Josephine’s dress drifts along the aisle toward a vestibule. She appears as though she’s the only woman there to him. He wipes his eyes, studying the design she’s chosen as the maid of honor. His heart flows with her dress. As if every step beats the drum of his heart for him.

  Josephine’s far from simple dress stays crisped in a mainly white glow, until vibrantly brightening below her thighs. Turquoise marries into a deep vibrant blue. Within the blue, silver paisley intricately laces along the hem, taking his breath away. “Something in her knows,” remembering how Josephine had coerced Amber into such a design, “Gamerin insignia colors.”

  ◆◆◆

  During the ceremony, Josephine allows her creative concentration to drift away. Listening to Bishop Jones’s delivery of vows, and daydreaming Lucius is next to her. Lucius is already in her mind. To his delightment, he allows her daydream to swim through his similar thoughts. “Baby, how I dream about what you think.”

  Josephine imagines…

  Father Jones speaks to her as the bride. She answers, “I do. I take thee, Lucius. I do.” Allowing her mind small leeway. Justification of how she aches inside. She wipes under her lashes. A few feet back from the true joyful couple giving vows.

  Lucius whispers, “I take thee, Josephine. I do,” rubbing his collarbone, “if only it was that simple,” and his expression falls, “I wish you knew who I am?”

  ◆◆◆

  At the reception, Josephine sits ignoring any dancing around her. Simply enjoying chitchat with a couple of David’s younger sisters she hadn’t seen in a while. Several women have had the pleasure of experiencing Drake’s smooth feet on the dance floor. Thirst and a need for air takes him for a rest, after making a quick stop at the disc jockey’s table. Thirst calls him back to his reserved spot. He plops down in the chair beside her, catching his breath. “Whew. I’m working up a thirst with all this mingling,” swigging a glass of wine like water. He places the glass down, “This stuff’s crap. It’s sweet. Nothing’s in it.”

  “I’ve never had a full glass of wine before, just intinction during communion.” She shrugs, “I like it.”

  “That’s because you don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like.” He leans toward her ear “Hey,” nudging her arm, “come on. Let’s dance.”

  “I don’t know,” she wafts burgundy under her nose as if a wine aficionada. “I’m enjoying myself right here.”

  “You invited me.” Drake stands to his feet, slightly pushing his pelvic to brush between her and the chair. “You owe me fur go’n to a wedding wit’…” whispering over soft side curls, “… wit’ some cheap wine.” Amber’s aunt spindles by. Drake winks at her timing and glances back down. His words hover loud enough for the boisterous lady he’s already met to listen in. “Jojo, come on. Don’t be a sourpuss. Let’s dance. It’s a wedding after all.”

  Amber’s aunt overhears the perfectly timed plea. Her elbow prods Josephine’s upper arm, “Dance, Josey. Dance,” tapping her away from comfortability. “He’s a great dancer. Your date wants to enjoy your company. Get up, girl.”

  Josephine barely stands to her feet, before Drake swiftly abducts her footing for a tour of the dance floor. He discovers a nice area, working his way through the crowd. Between several couples, he embraces his partner firmly, “Follow me,” making his way toward an even better spot. His feet sashay smooth sidesteps around several couples.

  Carissa and Neil witness Josephine with the new guy, working toward the center of the floor, inevitably making great strides in capturing response of many to studiously peer over.

  Neil says, “I thought she hated public places.”

  Carissa shakes her head, “No,” speaking closer toward her husband’s ear, “She hates attention from new people. But quite the ham with friends and family.”

  “I guess Lucius is good for her then — bringing her out in the crowd like that.”

  Carissa says, “That’s a —

  “You look stunning,” Neil dips her with a kiss.

  More room, and naturally spreading outward for the cowboy and his partner, they take residency in the center of the floor. A confident smile arises as Drake shows off his country talent in dancing. His hips move, pressed against her, as if professional voting will take place later on. Easily, Josephine follows his steps. His hands show off masculinity in firmly moving her. His leading role doesn’t go unnoticed. She says, “I’ve never danced like this before. This is new to me.”

  “I’ll lead you. It’s okay.” He locks eyes with her, “I got ya,” smiling, “Do it like this,” and places her hands on his sides. “This is how it’s done. That way you follow me better.”

  “Everyone’s looking,” she tensed.

  “Loosen up.” His brows crank, “Don’t disappoint them then.” He moves her and directs her
to dance like a cowgirl. He studies her eyes not completely focused. Petrified by those around her. His voice shushes reservations. “Pay attention to me — not them. Let me guide you.” He signals toward his eyes, “I won’t let you mess up in front of them.”

  Don’t fall, she thinks. Many eyes cement toward her area, making popular headway.

  Drakes says, “Listen to the beats. This is normal. A slower song will help.” He winks at the disc jockey, “Concentrate on my hip muscles, and where I’m guiding you,” using sensual swings and an impressive step. He has her preoccupied mind like a magician sliding a trick up his sleeve. Drake makes his statement for anyone observing. And everyone is observing. Except… her.

  The grapevine stories of Lucius, the unseen soldier, is starting to highlight a face in their minds. Word spreads like lit gasoline. Music softens. And Drake’s body language is easier read outside her bubble. The gestures made by his hands and hips, calling out for everyone to watch. To witness how easily she listens to him. Eyes staring. Those eyes he’s worked nearly an hour, shuffling their minds toward him.

  Lucius stabs his steps toward David. Nearly digging dents through camouflage and into epoxied flooring. His nostrils flare, placing two fingers on David’s shoulder. He transfers his furious thoughts. Don’t let her do this. She doesn’t know what it looks like. What kind of a friend are you to let her be molested in front of everyone? Protect her. She’s innocent and doesn’t know.