The Angel’s Song
Copyright © 2018 by Roberta Kagan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
BOOK ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
BOOK TWO
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
BOOK THREE
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Authors Note
More Books by the Author Available on Amazon
BOOK ONE
September 2nd Labor Day Weekend 1935
Islamorada in the Florida Keys
The forceful winds encircled the palm trees like giant invisible anacondas then ripped them from the ground, leaving their roots upended and extended toward heaven like fingers begging for mercy. In powerful gusts, the winds tore the small, shabbily-built shacks—built to house the men working on the Overseas Highway—and flung them across the earth like Tinker Toys. The rain sounded like tiny bullets as the heavy downpour came plummeting down onto the roofs of the houses left standing. And then the hand of God reached down and drew from the ocean a wall of water so high that no mortal man could see beyond it. It rose with such force that it consumed the islands, sweeping away all that stood in its wake
In the middle of the most powerful hurricane known to the Florida Keys, Cyrus Hunt was on his knees praying for the life of his estranged lover Lucy as she gave birth to their child. He’d done what he could to help her, but he had never delivered a child before. Lucy was bleeding badly. Her white cot was covered in a thick pool of dark blood. The wind howled a funeral dirge outside the window. Lucy pushed and screamed, then pushed and screamed again as the child within her sought to free itself from her body. Already the pain had gone on for hours.
Finally, the infant’s head emerged and then the shoulders. With a final push, the baby was born in a river of blood. At first, the child did not make a sound. Cyrus shivered, thinking it was dead. But then he slapped the baby’s bottom and a lusty cry filled the room. Cyrus sighed with relief; the child would live. But as he looked at Lucy holding the infant, Cyrus knew that Lucy would die.
“It’s a girl,” he said, touching Lucy’s arm gently. “She’s beautiful. She looks like you. She’s got your red hair. I mean, it’s only peach fuzz but it sure looks like it’s going to be red.”
“Kill it,” Lucy hissed. “No girl should be forced to live in this world. This world is a living hell for a girl. Kill it.”
Cyrus looked down into the tiny face and sucked in a deep breath. His sweaty clothes stuck to him; the heat was sweltering in the dirty little room. He trembled as his mind drifted to a time long ago, and he remembered the visitor who had come to him when he was unconscious after being wounded in the war. At that time, he was sure he was near death. He was also certain that the visitor was the devil.
“If you want to live, you must promise me that you will kill your firstborn child,” the devil said.
“I promise,” Cyrus answered. It was so long ago, but he could still feel his life oozing out of him on the battlefield. “Only make the pain go away,” he’d said.
“Very well,” the devil answered and the pain was gone.
Now as he looked at the beautiful baby in his arms, he cried out for mercy.
“Dear God, I am not the same man I was then …”
But there was no answer. There was only the sound of the rain, the relentless heat, and the whimpering child. Lucy was dead. And he knew what he must do.
Chapter One
Ashlyn
Ashlyn grew up on her father’s farm in the Florida Keys, only a few miles away from Islamorada on one side and Snake Creek on the other. When her father died, she sold the farm to Cyrus Hunt, a veteran of the Great War who had come to work on the Overseas Highway. When the men first came to build the Overseas Highway, Ashlyn’s father was against the project. They were a rough, battle-scarred group that spent their time drinking, whoring, and fighting. Her father had moved away from the city, and he had loved the peace of living and farming in the Keys. But the arrival of the workers changed the atmosphere considerably.
Cyr
us was one of those men working on the highway but somehow he wasn’t like the others. He didn’t drink to excess and he had money put away. When he came to see her father about buying the farm, Ashlyn stayed out of his way, but she watched him in silence. He looked like one of the heroes from the novels she read.
Cyrus sat at her kitchen table and told her father that he and Lucy wanted to buy the farm and live there. At first, her father wasn’t willing to sell to them. But her father was also very ill, and farming was a taxing job. Ashlyn was unable to keep up with all of the necessary chores by herself. Every day, the farm was deteriorating more and more, and so she decided she must sell.
When she sold them the farm, Ashlyn thought that Lucy and Cyrus were married. After all, Lucy was very pregnant. It was only later that Ashlyn learned they weren’t married. Ashlyn hid her growing feelings for Cyrus until one day, without warning, Lucy left, taking with her every penny Cyrus owned.
Ashlyn knew her place. Since she was a child, men had made it clear to her that she was a plain girl with a strong sturdy body. Even in her wildest imagination, she should never entertain the idea that a man as handsome as Cyrus Hunt might show any interest in her.
But once Lucy was gone and Cyrus had no idea where to find her, a sweet and calm understanding began to build between them. Cyrus and Ashlyn took long walks and talked for hours. Ashlyn was a good cook and she prepared meals that they shared in a peaceful environment. Being alone together, their feelings for one another grew. Then one night they made love. It was Ashlyn’s first time, and it was as if a world of beauty and joy that she could never have dreamt possible suddenly opened up for her.
Ashlyn always fantasized about being in love, but not in her wildest dreams had she imagined that a man as wonderful as Cyrus Hunt could return that love. As the golden days passed, each following the other, she grew to love Cyrus so much that she insisted he take back the money he had paid her for the farm and use it for both of them to live on until the farm became productive.
He had been reluctant to take the money. At first, he refused outright. But after Ashlyn explained her reasons, he saw that it was the only way they could both survive. And so he took the money. Every day, they worked the land together to rebuild the run-down farm. It was hard but honest work. The soil on their hands and the sweat of their brows churned forth nourishment from the earth. During those days of hard work and sweet lovemaking, Ashlyn found bliss. Then one afternoon, Cyrus’ old boss from the Overseas Highway job came to visit.
He brought bad news.
He knew where Lucy was.
Ashlyn saw Cyrus’s eyes light up at the sound of Lucy’s name, and it hurt her as deeply as if a long, sharp spear was slowly puncturing her stomach. But she loved Cyrus unconditionally and so she put his needs before her own. She insisted that he go and find Lucy and help her. They both knew that she would soon be giving birth to Cyrus’s child. It hadn’t taken much convincing for Cyrus to set out on his journey to find her. Ashlyn watched him from the window as he drove away from the farm that Labor Day morning, sure that she’d lost him forever.
She had heard from the neighbors that a hurricane was forecast but she wasn’t worried. After all, she’d weathered many hurricanes growing up in the Keys. No one knew for sure where or when the storm would make landfall. Often the storms passed right over the Keys and went up to Miami or other far away places she’d never seen.
After Cyrus left, Ashlyn did her best to keep busy. She cleaned the house, scrubbed the floors, and did what she could to stop the thoughts that were pounding inside her brain. Ashlyn imagined Cyrus holding Lucy in his arms and kissing her.
She is so beautiful, Ashlyn thought. Not plain like me. He might bring her back here with him and then everything we have shared will not matter at all. And I think he knows that I love him so much that his happiness is more important to me than my own. If he chose to be with Lucy, I would leave quietly.
Tears ran down her cheeks, she was so sure that this would happen. She imagined Cyrus’s car pulling up to the farmhouse with Lucy inside, and her heart sank. She sat down on the sofa and put her head in her hands.
I’ve known love and because I have, it will be so difficult to live without it. Still, it was worth all of the pain I might endure to have had this beautiful time with Cyrus. If he brings Lucy back with him I will have to go as far away from here as I can get.
I don’t have any money because I’ve given it all to him, but I’ll find work along the way. I know he won’t throw me out but I couldn’t bear to see Lucy in the bed I have been sharing with him. It would kill me.
As she was lost in thought, the sky turned dark. It was as if God painted it in shades of gray to black. A forceful wind began to twist and twirl and, as it danced, its strength grew. The relentless heat of the Indian summer vanished as sudden gusts of cool breeze rocked the palm trees. The earth smelled fresh and clean like it did when a storm was on the way. She put her head out the window and could taste the ocean salt on her lips. A band of rain came on strong and then disappeared.
Storm’s definitely coming, she thought. But just then the wind picked up with force and tore a large part of the roof from the house, sending Ashlyn flying into the wall. Her hip hit the leg of the table hard enough for her to feel it rotate out of its socket and bruise. Beads of heavy sweat broke out on her brow. Her hip hurt, but she still managed to get outside.
The whipping winds and the heavy rains were stronger than anything she ever experienced, and she had seen many a storm in the Florida Keys in her lifetime. However, she had never seen anything like the massive wall of water she now saw coming out of the ocean, rushing powerfully toward her.
Bile rose in her throat and her heart raced. It was a heavy thick wall of water so big that it seemed to reach the sky. It was so utterly terrifying.
Cyrus, where are you?
Chapter Two
The workers who lived in the shanty-town were just a few miles from Islamorada on Snake Creek. Most were veterans of the Great War, who came to the Keys on the promise of employment and the payment of their war bonuses. Many of these shell-shocked heroes were disliked by the town folk because they drank and fought a great deal of the time. The shacks quickly erected for them to live in were not built to sustain a storm. The visionary men who were intent on building the highway evacuated the islands as soon as word that a storm was on its way. And now the war veterans who’d been left behind, who fought for their country’s freedom, were blown away by the wind like rag dolls.
Chapter Three
Cyrus looked into the little infant’s tiny face. The baby’s fingers clenched and unclenched. She opened her emerald eyes and looked directly at him.
She has her mother’s eyes. Her mother had the same, deep-green eyes as the devil woman who came to me when I was unconscious, he thought.
“Kill her.” He could hear Lucy’s voice in his head telling him to kill the child. But Lucy lay motionless on the bed, drenched in an ocean of her own blood. She was dead. He was certain of it. He felt for a pulse and there was none.
So how could she be talking to me? he asked. I must be going nuts.
The baby began to cry softly. He could kill her easily, she was so little and weak. His heart ached as he looked into the face of the helpless child who was born of his loins. He was overcome by the knowledge that she was his legacy. His blood coursed through her small body, keeping her alive. But instead of hurting her, he held her to his breast and whispered, “I love you, little girl. I will protect you with my life for as long as I live. Satan be damned.”
Without taking the time to wash the blood or body fluids from the tiny newborn, he wrapped her in a towel and prepared to leave the apartment.
Then he remembered his money.
The money Lucy had stolen from him. It was somewhere in the apartment if she hadn’t already spent it. He risked his life for that money. He stole it from the mob in Chicago and then carried it across the country with the hope of using it to bu
ild a new life, a life not of poverty like his childhood, but a life of comfort and opulence. The storm was raging. It had a distinct sound, a distinct smell. Was it worth taking the time to search the apartment for the money? He wanted his money. For years, it had been the central focus of his life. Yet he was afraid that even a few seconds could mean the difference between life and death for all of them, especially the infant and poor sweet Ashlyn. He was worried about Ashlyn. She was alone and he was sure she needed him desperately. Still, he couldn’t leave without taking a moment, just a single moment, to race through the apartment and see if he could find his duffel bag full of the money. He checked under the bed and in the closet. He saw nothing. The rains were growing stronger, pounding on the roof. He checked the bathroom. Nothing. No money, no duffel bag. Time was racing by; Ashlyn was alone. Cyrus eyed the keys to his car on the shelf. Lucy stole the car when she ran away. He grabbed the keys and felt the cold metal in his hand. Then still holding tightly to his little girl, he walked outside the building to assess the situation. The rain and wind were so overpowering that it was almost impossible to see even a few feet in front of him. A gust of wind came out of nowhere and threatened to pull the baby out of his arms but he held tight. He ran around the house until he saw his automobile rocking as wildly as a man possessed. There was no more time to waste looking for the duffel. The lives of those he cared for were more important than the money.
Cyrus Hunt climbed into the car and gently laid the baby on the floor so she wouldn’t roll off the seat. Rain plummeted the windshield as he turned the key and prayed that the automobile would start. When it did, he breathed a sigh of relief and stepped on the gas. Although he had very limited visibility and the car seemed like it would turn over at any given moment, he managed to remain in control and headed back to his farm and to Ashlyn.
The streets were empty and the sky was an angry charcoal gray. Heavy winds tugged at his vehicle, a reminder of just how small he was against the power of Mother Nature. Another band of rain fell in sheets upon the windshield as debris from the broken buildings hurled towards his car. A rock hit the windshield; it sounded like a bomb. Cyrus jumped, and the baby wailed for a second. But the infant was weak and she fell back to sleep.
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