An Angel with Secrets

By Marti Eicholz

An Angel with Secrets is a novel, dealing with human experience and imaginary characters.

When Mary takes the fall for her boyfriend Luke and goes to jail, she has no idea her fate is not the only one at stake. She's pregnant, and she gives birth to her daughter Angel behind bars, where Mary raises her for the first eighteen months of Angel's life, until Luke takes Angel from the prison. However, Angel quickly discovers that living with Luke and his girlfriend Sophia has its own problems, as she is frequently caught in the crossfire of their fractious relationship. Luke, ultimately, leaves Sophia and Angel alone. Although she is only six years old Angel is convinced Sophia would be better off without her. She runs away and eventually finds herself in a group home for children run by Mitsy, a warm and loving woman with a large community of friends and family who all take part in raising her. They name her Angie and help shape her destiny. Although she struggles to adjust, this extended makeshift family supports her as she grows into a young woman, encouraging her to follow her dreams. As Angie puts together the puzzle pieces of her life, she must decide if she can truly move forward without revisiting the past and truly putting it to bed. A moving story of love, family, and survival, "An Angel with Secrets" follows one very special girl as she grows into a woman who thrives and flourishes against all odds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: May 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781456633066

Book preview

AN ANGEL

WITH

SECRETS

A NOVEL

Marti Eicholz

This is a novel.

It deals with human experience, imaginary characters and events.

This is a work of fiction based on the author’s imagination rather than facts.

Copyright 2020 Marti Eicholz,

All rights reserved.

Published by eBookIt.com

http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 9781456633066

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE AFFAIR

ALONE TOGETHER

THE DEPARTURE

A GARDEN OF HOPE

CONNECTING

STRIVING

A BUSY BEE

PASSIONS UNFOLD

RELEASE

A BLUNDER

DECISION TIME

GOING ABROAD

THE UNEXPECTED

SELFLESS

MOVING

RELISHING THE JOYS

NEW GOALS

THE NOW

THE AFFAIR

On this beautiful, balmy evening, the city folk were out walking the streets, standing around chatting, or sitting on benches watching others showing off their physiques in their tight-fitting clothes.

The music coming from a nearby bar was so loud it made Mary’s skin tingle and her lungs feel like mush. Mary was true to her Hebrew name. She indeed was rebellious and bitter, a sea of sorrow. Over the roar of the music was a distant, hazy chatter. She could not make out any words, but the laughter rang in her ears and it wouldn’t stop. She had to join the crowd. As she entered, Luke glided down the marble steps like a slinking panther.

They flirted, shared names, and got close. Her smile mirrored his. She kept humming until he took her in a bear hug and kissed her. They pulled away and their eyes locked.

The bass thumped in time with their heartbeats as though they were one, filling them from head to toe with music. The music was as loud as thunder. They huddled with a group and jumped as if being shaken in a box.

The music moved them like puppets on strings, and their heads mashed so hard their brains were in shutdown-mode. Mary knew of the effects of drugs they sell on the streets and in bars, but not the ones that come with a hug and a smile.

The alcohol kept flowing like an IV drip. All the good vibes flowed like a virus—a great one. As Mary watched Luke weaves through the guys and girls like a pro as he returned with more drinks. His smile seemed wider than the Golden Gate Bridge.

Luke had an independent streak, making him a challenge, just as he challenged the world, jumping from one idea to another. Mary liked his spontaneity, his craziness; plus, he was funny. He captivated her, and together they danced a dance of immense freedom.

Mary’s only thought was, God, I love this man.

Luke came to her side, giving her another shot and stating, Love is in the air. I’m all hyped up and ready to give us a good time! Mary knew it was never just her yearning for him; it was mutual. Luke thought I swear this girl is an expert on keeping my heart beating; without her I am sure my heart would stop.

Coming out of the bar there was a starburst of light amongst the darkened sky. Neon lights flashed everywhere, just like on a police car. The streets were full of people who walked as if the ground was the deck of a storm-tossed boat. Each foot came to the sidewalk not expecting the collision of shoe and concrete would cause a lurch or a stumble.

Being with Luke, Mary partied every night. She thought I could not be more alive if I was shouting from a mountain top. The music and Luke are my drugs that bring me higher and higher until I buzz with pure joy. My limbs have so much energy. I could dance forever!

Each night they slipped in among the crowd and made a beeline for the bar. A drink of vodka later, they were ready to move with the music with hands in the air, bodies gyrating like an uncoiling rope and eyes on fire.

The joy was like a shot of their choice drug. Mary's hips swayed as the sequins on her dress caught the disco ball light twirling above launching every shade of the rainbow into the darkness. By the end of the evening, Luke and Mary were drunk. They grabbed onto each other, arm-in-arm, and exited the premises, wobbling down the lamp-lit alley into the glow of streetlamps as they staggered into Luke’s one-room apartment, falling into bed.

Months later, Mary walked as her hair fluttered in the air, her clothes hung to her body and arms tightly wrapped around her. She felt a cold wind stroking her skin, wanting to rip her clothes off her, as if she were its enemy.

Seeking warmth and love, she appeared in the bar with the winter snow billowing around her skirt. No one paid attention to her beauty. She waltzed on with an effortless saunter. The clicking of her heels added rhythm to the soft jazz playing without pause. Her eyes scanned the room with determination in search of Luke.

Luke had the most wonderful eyes—they were blue, mostly, but darkened to grey depending on his mood. Both had past lives of petty crimes and supported a life dependency on drugs and alcohol.

Memories of the streets where the good kids went to school haunted Luke. Every Saturday from his father’s farmer market booth, selling eggs, cheese, milk, and produce, he watched and listened as the kids made music in the square. These were the streets and the people he wanted to associate with. Luke felt calm and at home here, but he lived across the railroad tracks. His family was members of a separate community, and he was bused from their farmhouse to a school in the nearby city.

Sadly, he discovered that words, not words of love but simple sounds uttered carelessly from the mouth---could crush confidence and provoke anger. Years being bullied taught him that words could tear down and shatter one’s self-respect. Those demeaning words destroyed his self-worth, hitting with the impact of a wrecking ball and lodging in his memory.

Those words expressed by anxieties, his triggers, were the ghosts that haunted him, driving actions that were illogical to his parents, teachers, and even himself.

Feeling lost, lonely, and trapped, he found comfort and acceptance with a group that came to town and marked out their turf like a wolf pack. He craved the gang leader’s approval and the drugs they started him on.

Luke’s eyes became glassy and unfriendly, showing no emotion, cold. He followed all the wrong animal instincts. Every week, his morality was pushed slightly further in the wrong direction, and he rationalized that this way of thinking was a desirable freedom. He even became convinced that his family, who didn’t see the value in becoming a writer or an artist, was the enemy.

Luke continued to grasp for love in all the wrong places over and over.

All of Mary’s associations with love had been bad ones. The way her stepfather lifted his fist against her mother, the way her mother screamed as his white knuckles gripped her throat or the snickering laughter as she kicked back---this is wrong. Mary wondered why humans act this way. This is not love.

In her life she was never more than a ping pong ball, bounced from one to another for her love. She gave it freely. Each parent put a cage around her love, limiting its expression. Her father demanded that she show her love for him by demeaning her mother, her mother demanded the very same thing.

She thought when I came to you with a toddler’s open heart you saw an annoyance, another month to feed, a bottom to wipe.

Damage sits in when you are ignored and inconvenient. No matter how dark the storm she always scampered back with the wide eyes of a child, confused, hiding the fear but searching, seeking acceptance, appreciation, and approval---love.

In high school she fell in love with her friend, the sewing machine. With her strong eyesight, good hand-eye coordination, steady hands, and strong attention to detail, she focused calmly and efficiently creating garments of splendor and beauty. The shop that sold fabrics finer than she could afford hired her.

Her scars remained with her. At night she dressed to attract attention, seeking approval and love.

This evening Mary and Luke’s meeting was so beautiful—it was like the stars had taken a rest. Their lips planted on soft cushions. As their bodies hit the bare mattress, Luke turns to eyes of flame, a wry grin on his face, I knew we would be together one day. Mary feels the explosion within her, a burst of love.

Luke and Mary were together in love, and together in driving the drug market. Luke had a greater mission. He convinced her to smuggle drugs to the UK. However, Luke could not protect and shield Mary from the authorities.

At Dublin airport, a sniffer dog walked over to her suitcase and sat down beside it. Dublin authorities returned Mary to the states for prosecution. State side they found her guilty for burglary, drug trafficking, and possession of cocaine and heroin. They incarcerated her. Staring outside the window, she looked intently with a long, fixed stare at the high walls topped with barbed wire, like any other high-security facility.

Soon she discovered she was having Luke’s child. Mary thought this is a terrible thing. I will have a baby in prison.

She felt the baby in the womb, twisting, turning, jumping, and slowly moving back and forth to the beat of sound—or no sound at all, just yearning for another slide.

Being in prison and pregnant, Mary described this time to Luke on one of his visits, Luke, this is a period of complete humiliation. I am stripped, searched, and placed in belly chains and handcuffs for the duration of every doctor’s appointment. It’s torture. He listened.

Just a few months later, Mary was all alone when prison staff shackled and chained her to the hospital bed during labor and childbirth. The restraints of handcuffs, ankle restraints, leg irons and waist chains were painful and interfered with her ability to move during labor. The belief was that a pregnant inmate could pose a risk of harm to her or others or could escape.

Mary found the experience to be deeply frustrating and humiliating, even though she had committed crimes and made mistakes in her life. She stated to one attendant, I am a human being. I am being treated like a caged animal. No one should have to experience this! That outburst did not do her well.

Mary gave birth to her daughter inside the maximum-security facility. The first day her tiny one opened her eyes, Mary felt at that moment that her baby was the most important person on earth.

Mary took her time deciding on a name for the baby. She listened to her heart and named her little one Angel. Mary had always loved the Greek name, meaning a messenger of good news.

Luke came for a visit commenting, Mary, the baby is beautiful, and her name is perfect. This little mite is our Angel, leading us to a better tomorrow. They looked into each other’s eyes as a pair of tears raced down both their cheeks.

Mary bowed her head stating, Can you imagine trying to nurse a baby with handcuffs and chains on? Luke shook his head in disbelief.

At first sight as she held her newborn, she saw ancient classical features, and she felt a confidence in this little one’s body. Admiring her baby girl, she thought of her as a gorgeous goddess of spirituality and love.

After careful screening they allowed Mary to serve 18 months of her sentence in a nursery unit. The bars on the window were a clear sign the facility was not a normal nursery. It included a communal playroom stocked with toys and a mother-and-child room equipped with a single bed and a crib.

Instead of the industrial greens and grays of the prison system, some caring soul painted the walls with rainbows, fluffy clouds, and jungle and barnyard scenes. This brightly colorful nursery had 14 babies, including a set of twins.

Mary would spend part of the day going to school. Hopefully, this would give her hope she could clean up for good.

There was much disagreement and shifts in thinking among the staff. Some said the privilege of living with your baby was inconsistent with the concept of punishment. They argued that prison should be for punishment and that women should put their child up for adoption.

Now that Angel was born, Mary felt it wonderful to spend time with her little girl. Early on, trying to hold Angel was difficult, as she was a little wiggle worm. Later, asking her to sit was as if trying to tell a fire not to burn. Angel’s eyes were always alight. Her every muscle needed to move, to dance, to jump. She chattered, observed, and giggled. Everything tickled her as funny.

She thought many times a day; I am blessed to go through this.

There were constant reminders that the place was a prison. Armed officers patrolled the unit, telling her they would take her baby for such infractions as fighting or even leaving a toy in the crib while the baby slept.

Mary struggled to provide the love and support that Angel needed even though she adored her with every atom of her body. A most saddening by-product of Mary’s substance abuse addiction was an altered perception of her reality. The lack of sleep, attention to detail, and keeping calm made Mary’s life difficult and caused her temper to fray.

Observing Mary, the staff commented, Our focus should be on what’s best for this baby, Angel. There was much skepticism whether Mary had the capability of being an adequate parent. Mary still had several more years to serve, so it really was not something to give much thought.

At eighteen months, Angel would leave her mother and the prison cell for the outside world. Over the remaining months Angel grew, learned to talk, walk, go to the potty, play, and explore.

The 18-month time period was ending, and Mary became more anxious. Luke was the father. On his next visit she needed to encourage or even demand he requests responsibility for Angel rather than a foster home or adoption. Time was running out.

Luke stepped up. Angel was a toddler soaking up information like a sponge and striking off milestones at breakneck speed. She referred to herself as Angel. She walked, did drawing and coloring, but was not fond of messy things, no joy playing with sand and water or finger painting. Jigsaw puzzles were her favorites. She echoed what people were saying and sought praise from everyone.

When the time came for Mary to let her baby girl go, she knew no one can bottle up love. Angel ran with a bouncy stride. She had a wide smile and a wide reach for every hug.

The day arrived. The early morning mist was clearing, but Luke’s mind was still foggy, so he sat silently in his 10-year-old Chevy contemplating this new day. Finally, he gathered himself together and headed for the entrance of the maximum-security facility.

The sliding door buzzed and rumbled and opened. The guard yelled: Come on, you’re next. Luke stood up from the waiting area pews, where he had stowed his backpack in a locker, and stepped forward, knowing his life had made another change forever.

He entered the trap—a room between outside and inside worlds. Every few months he had visited the locked-up Mary and the baby Angel. Now he was taking baby Angel into the outside world as his own.

The next thing Mary knew she was there in the trap, staring into Luke’s eyes, but her eyes traveled to his thick dark hair. Her insides shrunk when she realized she wanted to reach out and run her fingers through that mop of dark. She inhaled sharply, trying to focus. She thought I remember the times we got drunk and high at those stupid parties. I was once gregarious and generous nature, now I am gaunt and melancholy.

As the tears rolled down her cheeks like rain on a dusty pane, her bottom lip quivered. Luke was standing in front of her. He was ready to take Angel from Mary’s trembling hands. Mary bit her lip to stop the tears as she tightened her grip on Angel and the bag of clothing.

The guards wept when it was time for her to go.

One said, She is love in a bottle; just being near her makes the rest of us glad to be alive.

Another reaction was, There is something intoxicating about her.

She is bursting with liquid sunshine from within. The remark caused Mary to collapse.

The staff gave her a doll, and pointed to the name on the dolly’s pocket, Angel, this is your dolly. She has the same name as yours, Angel. You both are angels. You will take care of each other. We love you.

Angel clutched her precious possession, a doll named Angel.

Luke took Angel, the doll, and the bag of clothing and smiled like he would only be two or three days. But Mary knew better. She watched in despair as Luke turned and walked away, entering a new day where the sun was shining brilliantly bright like a fireball.

Left with only internal pain, a disease, a disorder, Mary slumped into a ball and wailed. She already felt the withering away inside from the lack of hugs, strokes and the tender touch.

All the things she loved most thrown aside and trashed. Her memories covered and caked with evil, darkness, and greed. Sorrow was the new smile in her eyes; fears replaced sunshine. Life was dark for what she thought would be forever.

ALONE TOGETHER

Angel was seeing the outside world for the first time. She looked up at the sky, smiled, and immediately went into a giggle-dance. Her hair flowed freely in the breeze. Standing still her eyes followed the bird in flight. As her grin got wider, she had the look of love and awe.

Angel was moving in with her dad and his girlfriend, Sophia. Living in a three-room, upstairs apartment in the ghetto will not be an enriching experience for a toddler. Each morning and evening they will walk the alleyway to the girlfriend’s design studio which specializes in hair, makeup, wigs, and vintage clothing.

As Luke and Angel drove up and parked in the front space, Sophia looked up from her morning sweep of the sidewalk in front of her studio. Sophia had not learned that looks can be deceiving, especially when your skin resembles marble dust with light specs of gold and your eyes are the shade of a winter sky fading with spring greens. Her long, wavy, silky charcoal-colored hair made her beautiful soft pink lips stand out.

As Luke exited the car with Angel, Sophia’s long lashes framing her eyes targeted Luke, turning him into stone. Her full lips curled into a mischievous grin, captivating him every time and he could not look away. Sophia kept him still and held his beating heart with one gaze.

He thought Sophia is beautiful but dangerous. Luke stood holding little Angel and her dolly. With pride Luke stated, Sophia, this is Angel, my daughter. She will live with us.

Sophia smiled, What a cutie! Would you like some chocolate milk?

Angel, Sophia has a treat for you, some chocolate milk. Isn’t she a pretty lady?

Angel remained quiet, just watching every move.

With a broom in hand and Luke with Angel following, Sophia gave a confident, sexy strut that told Luke and anyone watching, I’m beautiful. She never missed a single step, opening the door and turning on the lights.

Angel wiggled until Luke placed her feet on the floor. She giggled, laughed, and ran around, jumping like she was the eye of her own storm, a small hurricane. She was happy, but she needed to engage everyone in her activity. No one gave all her action much notice, but Sophia remembered the chocolate milk.

Angel looked at the chocolate milk, smelled it, and stuck her finger into the glass, licking her finger before taking a sip. After the first sip, she smiled and quickly drank the rest, as if it would disappear. Once she drank her chocolate milk, Angel moved around, exploring every nook and cranny and finding lots of mirrors. She scampered from one to the other, bouncing around, finding herself in many places, telling her dolly where all the angels were. She found a small remote spot to hide. Angel found more space than the jail cell to roam, bounce, pounce, and dance, but it still was a box. She curled up and fell asleep.

When she awakened Luke was nowhere, and there was lots of activity; women were searching through racks of clothes, others were having their hair washed and styled, and one young girl was getting a haircut. Angel wanted to touch the curls that had dropped on the floor. As soon as she squatted Sophia yelled, No, no Angel—that’s a no!

Angel scurried about returning to the mirrors and