Katherine

by S. A. Glenn

  Reverend Papanikolaou, mimicking Samuel’s posture as he listened to his anticipated mental distress, sat back, cupped his chin and raised his brow. “I’m going to make this as simple as possible for you, Samuel: Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body and what you will wear. Do not have anxiety about the past, present, or future: You will not be able to add a single hour to your life by worrying.” He smiled and patted Samuel’s back.

  “Them’re smart words, Papa,” he agreed with a smile, holding up his head. “I’ll remember ’em.”

  “I did have help with them,” the reverend confessed, looking up into the heavens.

  “Oh, right! God sure is clever. He’s lucky to have you on his side.”

  “Ha ha ha,” chuckled the reverend, helping Samuel stand. “Come on, son. Katherine’s waiting outside for you to enjoy this fine summer day with her.”

  Reverend Papanikolaou escorted Samuel outside, waved good-bye to him and Katherine, smiled big.

  They waved back.

  “Race you home.” Katherine left Samuel standing in her dust.

  “That ain’t fair, Kat. Aw, heck! I’ll beatcha anyways!” he shouted, running at full force.

  CHAPTER 13

  It had been a long, hot day at work and Samuel could hardly stand his own stench. He climbed out of the warm bath water smelling clean with soap. Dressed, he shaved outside in front of a redwood table and looking glass. With the last stroke of the razor, he then wiped his face with a towel. He grabbed a bottle of toilet water, splashed some onto his hands and rubbed them over his smooth face. He grasped his comb and groomed his hair; Katherine’s image appeared behind him in their reflection.

  “Oooh… look at you!” she said, placing her arms around him, peering into his inviting eyes. “All clean shaved and all. Mmm, you smell yummy enough to eat!” she stated, taking a whiff then biting his neck.

  “Ahhh!” he roared, taking her hand, whipping her around into his arms, tickling her till she dropped to the ground.

  “Okay! Okay, I give,” she said, laughing and squirming. “Now, help me up.”

  He took her hand, pulled her up a bit and dropped her flat on her hinny. “What goes ’round comes ’round,” he said with a smirk.

  “Oh! Really?” she asked, dusting off her hands, raising her brow.

  He took her hand once more, brought her to her feet—she swatted him a good one on the rear.

  “What goes ’round comes ’round!” she mocked him, grinning big.

  “Touché!” he exclaimed, rubbing his posterior. “Tushy! Get it?”

  “Yes, Samuel, I get it; but where did you learn that word?”

  “From you, Kat. I do listen to you on occasion,” he replied with an obnoxious cleverness.

  “Good! Perhaps I may be able to clean up your atrocious English!” she smiled.

  “Do what you will with me, Kat: learn me things.”

  “Very well, Sam. Your first lesson is to not use the word ‘learn’ in that sentence. Use the word ‘teach’: teach me things…”

  “Teach me things… got it!”

  Reaching around by the back door, Katherine grabbed a large, fine-grained ceramic bowl of water, sat it onto the table. Picking up a pitcher with a dark-red substance and a bottle, she placed them next to the bowl.

  “Whatcha gonna do with that stuff, Kat?”

  “Wash my hair. You want to help me?”

  “Okay. Whadda I do?”

  She sat a chair down in front of the table and sat with her back to the table.

  Samuel stuck his nose into the pitcher, drew-in the fragrance of the thick liquid inside. “Mmm! Smells like strawberries.”

  “It’s the juice from them and the sumac berries. Now, if you would be so kind; please, place my hair into the pitcher.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” After doing as instructed, he stared down into the sticky concoction and watched her hair soak.

  “Now put my hair into the water and wash it with the shampoo,” she said, pointing at the bottle.

  “Lean your head back, Kat.” He placed her hair into the water then lathered it up with the cleanser.

  “This feels wonderful!” she said with her eyes closed, letting him take control.

  While massaging her scalp, he recollected his untold desires of sharing his mysteries with her, ready to journey into the unknown. “You know, Kat,” he started off, working the suds through her silken hair. “‘Lee’ is my middle name. My last name’s Simms—Samuel Lee Simms—that’s my name. I’ve just been goin’ by Samuel ‘Lee’ cuz that’s what my ma used to call me. ‘Samuel Lee, supper’s ready!’ she’d yell out when I was outside playin’. I just’ve always gone by that name.”

  Katherine opened an eye, peered up at him and smiled.

  “I tried tellin’ you my full name once, but you done passed out on me… remember?” he asked, nudging her.

  “Sorry,” she apologized, looking shamefaced. “Nice to meet you, Samuel Lee Simms,” she said with her hand over her head.

  They shook hands. He gave her a towel to wipe off the shampoo, realized how easy it was to talk to her: Nothing seemed to fluster her.

  “I have a confession also, Sam,” she said with a serious face.

  “What, Kat. What? You can tell me anything!” he assured her, anxious to share trusting secrets.

  “You can cause me to be with child by washing my hair!” she blurted out.

  Samuel choked on his saliva. “How’s that possible?”

  She gave out a hulking laugh, snorting through her nose. “Oh my! Oh my!” she threw out, cackling about her senseless suggestion.

  “Kat!” he groaned, realizing she was teasing him.

  “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! You should have seen the look you gave me—it was priceless!”

  “I’m gonna getcha back, Kat. Rest assured!”

  “Be gentle with me when my time comes,” she begged with a pout and smile mixed.

  “Not a chance!”

  Samuel took the bowl and dumped out the water. Grasping a mental container, he ran to the well. He lowered the wooden bucket into it, allowing it to fill with cool spring water. Pulling on the rope, the squeaky pulley halted as the full pail reached the top. He grabbed the handle, rushed the water into the container then returned to Katherine.

  She turned her head to the side and looked up at him. “I believe that after I trim the ends of my hair, the nutrients in the berries absorb into it, making it stronger and smell good; along with keeping my hair black.”

  “Like Nane:hi did. You do just like she did!” he reminded her, wary of the connection.

  “Yeah… like she did,” she replied, giving out a quiet sigh. “Please grab a dark towel so I may wrap my hair in it, Sam.”

  “One moment,” he answered, reaching around to the shelf by the tub, grasping one. “Here, Kat.”

  “Thank you.” She lifted her hair out of the substance; it dripped as she wrapped her hair. She grabbed another dark towel, walked out under the sycamore tree onto the Kentucky bluegrass. “Please bring the water and a chair so I may rinse.”

  “Right away, my lady.” He carried them over to her. “Sit, Kat. I’ll pour the water.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” She removed her shoes and tucked her dress between her thighs.

  “Ready, Kat?”

  “Ready!”

  Slowly tipping the container, a steady stream flowed over her ebony hair. She ran her fingers through it, flushing out the tacky material, leaving only luster and a fresh essence of delectable berries.

  “That’s enough!” she let him know.

  But he kept pouring, nonchalantly whistling.

  “Enough, Samuel. That’s good!”

  Then he dumped the re
st down her back.

  “Ahhh!” she squealed. She stood, her hair hanging over her face and dripping wet. She parted her hair. “Have you lost your marbles?”

  “I don’t got no marbles. Told you I was gonna get you back!”

  Samuel was plumb tuckered out from his laborious day, with only enough energy to roll up one cigarette. While he smoked, he realized that it had been a while since he had drunk any whiskey; the bottle sat on the table with its cork tightly stuffed into the opening. Not a drop of liquor had touched his lips now that Katherine had flooded the vacancy in his heart with the basic source of strength and vitality he desired. Forcing out one last smoke ring, it drifted out the window, dispersing slowly. He doused the smoke in the ashtray and unclothed himself down to his undergarments.

  He lay atop his bed, feeling a warm breeze flow across his drained body. His thoughts were of Katherine and himself, recalling the charm and wonder of their time together, bringing out the best in him. All the playing, laughing, smiling and honesty they shared had him craving for more.

  Images of water pouring over her body occupy his mind, envisioning her dress tightening, exposing every hidden curve she bore. Before his fantasy evolved any further, he heard a horse outside, its hooves clip-clopping in its easy gait—then he floated off into a deep suspension of consciousness.

  He found himself in the year 1329 during the cultural revival and the beginnings of modern science in Europe. King Robert the First was in poor health and had sent for Sir Zwingli to reign in his place. Samuel, as Sir Zwingli, rode a gallant black horse as a mounted warrior of feudal times serving the king. He was a man honored by a sovereign for merit and devoted to the service of the ladies. With his shiny armor, poised upon his stallion, he galloped through the forest on his way to the castle. But before reaching his destination, he came upon a refreshing stream, dismounting his spirited steed for a cool sip of water.

  As he and his horse drank, Sir Zwingli took notice of an enchanting female voice emanating from the direction of roaring water. He led his trotter by the bridle to investigate the soothing song she sang. Walking a narrow trail between the towering trees, he halted next to a bush of wild berries. He tied off his stallion to a tree. He heard the rumble of the water growing louder as he absorbed the feminine melody serenading the woodland with a celebration of life.

  Sir Zwingli parted the bushes and saw a beautiful maiden among the mist, standing naked under a steep descent of stream water, bathing her seductive body. Her long black hair covered her breasts as she ran her hands down the length of her physique to cleanse herself. As she completed her invigorating song, she became aware of her one-man audience. She quickly backed away, and hid behind the waterfall. She slowly reappeared and smiled. She peered over to a bush, nodded her head, soliciting for a creature to come forth. A being with a man’s head and small horns protruding from the top, having a goat’s beard with the body of a horse appeared. The satyr held a golden Zither and began brushing the strings with its fingers, creating a lovely vibration. Sir Zwingli fared through the thick berry patch and stood next to the bend of the shallow, flowing stream. He picked dark red berries and ate them as he watched the woman, listening to her next song:

  Sung she:

  “Let him kiss me with his lips. For thou hast an appetite more satisfying than wine.

  “Attractive is thy heart and its offering.

  “Thy name is like my soul; that it dost live forever.

  “Taketh me into your arms, the King hath taketh me hither, allows no other to cometh between our loyalty: No wonder the virgins love thee.”

  Answered he:

  “Thou art so beautiful, my beloved woman. The morning’s sunrise doth not compareth to thee: How lovely are your gentle eyes.”

  Answered she:

  “How handsome thou art, my King: Your strength unmatched by any charm.”

  Replied he:

  “Like a blossom in the dead of winter is my love for thee.”

  Replied she:

  “Till the end of time shall thee be mine, for he is forever etched into my soul. I will never let thee go to the extremes of our love. I will love thee and nothing more.”

  Answered he:

  “I gaze upon thee and witness your bliss. I take thee by thy hand, pulling thee closer, holding thee tight, never letting thee go to the extremes of our love. I will love thee and nothing more.”

  They finished their poetic composition that was filled with wonder because of each other. She took heed of his noble stance and his long, hard, sharp sword at his side. What a sight he was, a brave knight, ready to protect the innocent. She came out from the enlivening water and sat atop a large, rounded mass of rock. A lily of the valley with its raceme of fragrant nodding bell-shaped white flowers grew aside her ankle. Plucking it from its dwelling, she placed it behind her ear then lay down unclothed against the warm, smooth stone. She pulled her hair away from one breast, exposing her erect teat.

  Like a magnet, he was pulled toward her. As he crossed the cool clear water, he watched the satyr transform into a man—a lecherous man—creeping over to the woman. He sprung upon her, seizing her, having his way with her and exceeding reasonable limits to gratify his desires. In his inordinate indulgence in sexual activity, she fought with all that she had, but was not able to ward him off.

  Sir Zwingli was at her side in a flash, pulling the assailant clean off of her. Extracting a weapon out of thin air, the lascivious man contended against Sir Zwingli in physical combat. The lewd man swung his sword at the Knight’s neck, but his weapon was met by his rival’s sword, causing a loud, sharp, metallic sound that echoed throughout the forest; a gaggle of birds fled the area, frightened by the violent eruption.

  The villain hopped up onto the bolder where the maiden once took fancy. Sir Zwingli swung at the man’s knees, missing as the man pulled his legs to his chest in a swift maneuver. Raising his sword above his head, the varlet came straight down with it, intending to split Sir Zwingli’s skull, but the Knight’s crafty skills defeated the evil once again, blocking him with his sword.

  While they moved about, many cunning blows were exchanged as the maiden safely watched. The villain swung his weapon with all his strength, missing Sir Zwingli’s neck due to the Knight’s artful ducking. The worn-out creature’s sword got stuck in the tree that the woman was hiding behind, allowing Sir Zwingli to thrust his sword through the weary devil’s stomach. The sword stuck into the tree, holding the conquered loser at bay. The lecherous beast dropped his sword, lowered his head, deep red blood flowing out of his mouth.

  “My lady, thou art safe now,” said Sir Zwingli, out of breath, extending his hand. “Please, come out from thy concealment.”

  “Yes, my lord,” answered she as she took his hand.

  “Dress thyself.” He handed her a brilliantly white, silk cloak. “Wive me and be my beautiful queen in our kingdom, and shall never we part but in death.”

  “I accept your proposal, my King.” She draped the cloth around her with a smile, bowing to him. But when she arose, her face turned to horror. “My lord!” she screamed in a panic, peering behind him.

  At once, Sir Zwingli dropped to the ground and picked up the villain’s sword. Seeing the man ready to swing his own sword at him, Sir Zwingli attacked one last time—the man’s stare grew cold as his head dropped to the ground, rolling one turn so the eyes glanced up upon the victor. The two sections of the corpse dematerialized, gone forever.

  The maiden embraced Sir Zwingli, with her ear to his chest. “Thou hast saved my life! I am most grateful, sir,” she curtsied.

  “Ye shall forever be in my debt, my beloved woman!” announced he with a bow. “For thou didst save my life. May I have the honor to taste thy sweet, rosy lips?”

  “But of course, my savior, my lord.”

  Instantly appearing upon Sir Zwingli�
��s valiant steed, they kissed as she was held in his brawny arms—the ground quaked with their desires as they become one entity.

  “Samuel… Samuel… Samuel… wake up!” Katherine exclaimed, shaking the bed, peering down at him with her long eyelashes, smiling. “You are going to be late for work!”

  “Beloved woman!” he uttered sharply as he opened his eyes, bringing his lips to hers for a kiss. “Where’s the steed?” he asked, glancing side to side, locked in his dream.

  “Well . . . ! Good morning to you also, my prince charming.”

  “No! I’m thy King… Sir Zwingli… remember?”

  She giggled and caressed his face. “You are silly! Sweet . . . but silly!”

  “Ahhh!” He dropped his head onto the pillow, realizing it was only a dream. “Never mind, Kat.” He jolted up in bed. “Work, you said? I’m late for work?”

  “You are going to be if you don’t get up right now!”

  He looked over at his clock, slapped his forehead. “Rats! I done forgot to set the alarm.” As he began to remove the sheet covering him, he realized that he had a problem because of the exotic dream. “If you don’t mind, Kat… I ain’t got much on,” he explained, seeing his bulge.

  “Yes, my King, I shant delay thee any longer.” She snickered, curtsied, then headed for the door.

  “Yeah yeah yeah—real funny!”

  Down at the breakfast table, Sara and Katherine sat, eating. Samuel joined them and poured a cup of coffee.

  “Good morning, Samuel. You’re a bit later than usual,” said Sara, handing him a bowl of grits.