Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(100)

“’Course. But, miss, you need to eat, too,” the cook entreated, and someone muttered, “Who’s Adam?”

Angelika’s stomach wasn’t likely to hold on to a meal. “Let us make him proud.” Tears began to threaten as she saw everyone straighten their spines, with fresh purpose shining in their eyes. She slipped out the front door, and then felt a hand on her sleeve.

It was Sarah. Blushing, she forced out: “I misunderstood. I’m to clean a cottage for Jacob?”

Angelika said, “You are to clean the cottage that will be yours.”

Sarah took a step back, eyes huge and confused. “Like the ones where Will and Clara live?”

“Yes. Didn’t I tell you that a long time ago? I’ve got to start telling people what is theirs. If it is comfortable enough, you can move there now. No more cold boardinghouse room. This is your home now if you wish it.”

Sarah grabbed her, and hugged her hard, squeezing out Angelika’s tears. The relief of this human contact was staggering, and Angelika babbled over the girl’s shoulder. “If I organize everything just so, he will wake and be proud. He will be so proud of me, and us, Sarah. We must arrange everything.”

Sarah rocked her employer in her arms, and repeated to the ivy-covered porch that everything would be all right.

*

Everything would be all right. Wouldn’t it?

It was dawn again. Angelika didn’t know how many dawns had tried to creep past her drawn drapes by this point; all she knew was Arlo had died twice more, and his breaths were so shallow she couldn’t hear them over her own heartbeat as she lay beside him with her head on his pillow. She could no longer lift her heavy limbs, and she only sipped at water or broth when forced.

“Should I let you go now?” The question she asked Arlo broke her heart. “Am I being cruel to you?”

“Nobody has ever fought this hard,” Lizzie said from the armchair. “And nobody has ever loved a man this much. But, Jelly.” She choked up then, coughed, and wiped her eyes. “If he goes one more time, you need to let him.”

Angelika knew there were no more arguments she could make. “Victor would call that natural science. But I will miss you,” she said, putting her cheek into the wasting dip on his chest. “And I will join you soon,” she added, too quiet for Lizzie to hear. Louder, she asked in a rasping voice, “Is it unscientific to request a miracle?”

“I don’t think so,” Lizzie said, and the door handle turned.

A miracle was speedily supplied.

“Dark as a tomb,” Mary said with evident disgust from the doorway. “And the smell.”

“Mary,” both women gasped.

“I heard I’m required,” Mary replied primly. She rounded the end of the bed, took ahold of the drapes, and threw them apart with violence, letting in the pale dawn light. Wiping at the condensation on the glass with her ragged sleeve, she continued. “I heard there’s a young woman in this household dying of a broken heart.”

“It’s true,” Angelika said. She felt herself being rolled by the shoulder, and now she was looking up at Mary. “You’ve been out in the forest, and I have cried every moment since.”

“You’re always embellishing,” Mary countered, but she had a faint smile on her face. “So you’ve decided to just give up, and follow him? They tell me downstairs that you have stopped eating. And bathing.” Her gaze flickered over to Arlo, and she winced at what she saw. The old woman thought for a minute, and then apparently made a decision. “My husband died on the eve of my thirtieth birthday.”

“That’s young,” Angelika replied. “I didn’t know you were ever young.”

Mary ignored that. “And when my William died, I had a decision to make. Would I lie down and die next to him, too?”

“You obviously didn’t,” Lizzie said, when the pressure of the silence was too great. She winced under the stare Mary cut in her direction. “I will go and get Angelika some broth, and some more cloths . . .” She was gone in a blink.

“I have done nothing but keep him alive,” Angelika confided, her parched throat barely able to finish the words. “I’ve kept him alive, and I’ve waited for you, Mary. I am more sorry than you’ll ever know.”

Mary put a hand on Angelika’s forehead and smoothed back her hair. “I do know.” She put a hand into her apron pocket and produced a brooch. “I took this, and you are within your rights to hang me.”

“I don’t care about a green stone.” Angelika was out of tears. There was little liquid left in her body, but she allowed Mary to lift her up on the pillows to take a sip from a cup. “I don’t tell people things in time. I say things in the wrong order, or assume that people know. The emerald is yours, and I was making you a cottage.”

“I know. Adam told me.”

Under the blankets, Angelika slipped her hand into Arlo’s icy palm. “How is Adam?”

“He will follow Will in a few days, I think.” The old woman was brisk, but Angelika could see a glassiness in her eyes. “We did our best, miss.”

“I didn’t.” Even as she said it, Angelika realized it wasn’t true. “No, actually, I did all I could.”

“Did you tell him, then?” Mary nodded at Arlo. “You said you don’t tell people things in time. Did you tell him everything you needed to?”