Katherine

by S. A. Glenn

  She dusted off her hands, took a deep breath, and exhaled with a smile. “Okay, Sam, let us get it over with: Teach me how to murder worms!” she said without enthusiasm, sitting on a log.

  Sitting next to her, he dug into the container, pulled out a worm and grabbed the hook. “Okay, Kat. Take one end of the worm and stick the hook through it, then again through the middle… that’s usually enough,” he explained in a collected manner, doing it as he spoke. “Here, you try it.” He handed her the worms and an empty hook.

  She gave him a look of disgust. “Thanks!” She reached deep into the dark, moist dirt and took hold of a worm, but it retracted itself. Fighting with it, she extracted its long mass, holding it as though it were a plague. Placing the point of the hook to its naked, soft body, she applied pressure—the worm squirmed for its life. She dropped the bait, squeamish about the process. “Icky! Yuck, yuck! I think it bit me!” she complained, wiping her fingers onto the grass. “It’s revoltingly slimy, Sam! I neither want to touch it nor hurt it!” Her face cringed.

  “Ha ha ha!” He took her hook and baited it for her. “Here, Kat, take your pole, let me show you how to cast your line.”

  They moved over to the bank and stood at the edge. He threw out his line and set his pole between two rocks, tightening the tension. He positioned himself behind her, holding her in the proper stance for casting. In one smooth motion they slung out her line, landing it just behind his. She set the pole between two stones and adjusted the line’s tension.

  “So, now what?” she asked.

  “We sit back and relax, wait for a fish to take the bait. We hafta watch the poles, see if they move. When they do, we tug slight like on the lines and hook the water-dwelling critters.” Scratching his head and feeling clever, he got a smirk on his face. “Hey, Kat. You ever see a catfish?”

  She pondered with her fingers to her lips, a serious look on her face. “I think I have.”

  “You’ve seen a ‘cat’ fish’?” he spurted out, laughing at his joke.

  “Very funny, Sam,” she smiled. “You are seeing a Kat fish… right now!” she pointed at herself with a giggle.

  “Good one, Kat.”

  The heat of the evening could take its toll on a person if it weren’t for the shade of the massive oak trees, the constant breeze, and the refreshing mint tea they were sipping on. They were lounging atop a blanket spread out over the ground, enjoying each other, taking in the tranquil sights and sounds of nature.

  As they partook in the sandwiches, Samuel saw Katherine’s pole twitch. “Look at your pole, Kat, I think you got a visitor.”

  “Whadda I do, Sam?” She dropped her sandwich and hurried to her pole with an impatient excitement.

  Ruff snagged her food and devoured it.

  Samuel whisked to her side. “Take your pole real careful like, then when your pole bows down give it a small yankin’ to hook the thing.”

  After a couple of nibbles, the pole curved down, then she did as she was instructed. “I got it, Sam!” she cried out in delight, hopping around with eagerness. “Now what?”

  “Reel ’er in, Kat. Reel ’er in!”

  “Oh, my god. I caught a fish!” she stated with a shrill as she lifted it out from its habitat and dangled it in the air as it flipped and flopped, twisting about. “Now what, Sam?”

  “Take hold of it, remove the hook from its mouth,” he dared her, figuring she would not do it.

  “You want me to do what?”

  Ruff sat, watching with his ears perked, head cocked as he whined.

  “Here.” He handed her the fish. “Hold it while I remove the hook.”

  She grasped the fish with both hands and scrunched her face with repugnance. He dislodged the hook, leaving her holding the agitated fish.

  “Please, Sam… take this!” she begged, stomping her foot.

  “You don’t like holding it?” he asked with an ornery smile, taking it from her.

  “No! It’s slimy! Why does everything with fishing have to be slimy?” She sniffed her hands. “And my hands smell nasty!”

  “So, I take it you’re not gonna gut and clean the—”

  “Not on your life, Samuel Lee Simms!” she interrupted, objecting with a slow-growing grin. “That’s what I have you for—to hunt and fish.”

  “Oh! So, you do need me for somethin’, huh?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “I’m kiddin’ ’round, Kat. I’ll clean the fish. Go wash your hands, my lady.”

  “I know you are.” She headed for the lake. “I’ll start the fire so we can eat my catch. Thanks for helping me with it; it was fun. I caught my first fish, Sam. Yea!” She clapped her hands with a big smile.

  The sun set, changing the mood. Without a cloud in the sky, a picturesque horizon of orangish-pink and purplish hues was gradually pursued by the deep blue then blackened heavens, displaying numberless stars. The continuous warm breeze whistled through the enormous array of trees surrounding the realm. The unworried songs of the birds were preempted by the chatter of crickets and harsh croaks of distant frogs. Samuel and Katherine finished their camp-fire-flamed meal, chasing it down with wine.

  “That was all together quite satisfying, Sam.” She tossed the bones onto the coals, sighing as though she wanted more. “How titillating it is to capture one’s dinner.”

  Not knowing the big word she used, but getting the gist of it, he rolled up a cigarette. “I’m glad it was… delightful!” he replied, straining to find a descriptive term like hers.

  “Come sit closer to me, Sam. Keep me safe from the wild animals lurking in the dark,” she pouted.

  “The only wild animal out here, Kat, is sitting next to you.” He chucked his smoke into the pit and scooted closer to her, then growled as he nibbled on her vulnerably luscious neck.

  “Ahhh!” she squealed as goose bumps worked their way down her body. She giggled as she fell back helplessly onto the blanket, neither willing nor able to ward off her frisky offender.

  A bright colorful light in the sky burst, casting a glow onto the lake, followed by an explosion that resonated throughout the countryside. They ceased the mischief. Sitting up and holding each other, they were mesmerized by the attention grabber in the southern sky.

  “Byoo-ootiful!” she expressed as she gazed up at the flashy display of fireworks then over at Samuel, her face beaming with joy.

  “Not as beautiful as you, Kat,” he declared, staring into her candid eyes.

  “I love it when you say sweet things, Sam,” she proclaimed, her smile diminishing as she gingerly kissed his lips. She pulled away, grinned and peered into his eyes.

  They jumped into each other’s arms as a mammoth boom shook them to their cores. Laughing at their childlike fright, they restored their courage and engaged again in awe of the sky. The show lasted nearly an hour. They clung to one another, kissed once and a while.

  “Katherine,” Samuel said in a gentle solemn voice, smiling as he gazed into her eyes, holding her soft, warm hands.

  “Yes, Samuel,” she batted her long eyelashes.

  “I got somethin’ I been meanin’ to tell you.” He peered down at their hands, feeling them getting clammy as he swallowed to moisten his throat. He looked back up at her. “I know we’ve just met ’n’ all. But I really like you… yet it’s more than just that, Kat. I wanna tell you… I mean, I wanna say that I…” He fell back onto the blanket, stared into the stars, frozen with fear and shadowed with doubt. “Ahhh! It’s silly. You probably don’t wanna hear it, anyhow.”

  She lay down onto her side next to him, her hand propping her head up. “Well, Samuel. If you’re not going to say it, then I will.”

  He turned his head and looked over at her. “Say what, Kat?”

  “I love you… and you love me!”

  “
I do? I mean… I do!” he exclaimed, ecstatic that she held the same passion. “How is it that it can be? We just met a month ago!”

  “30 days, 5 hours ago,” she clarified.

  “Yeah! But it seems like it’s been years. And I feel I’d die if you were gone. I do love you, Kat. I really do.”

  “Then kiss me like it’s our last embrace.”

  Their lips joined, burning with desire. He took her by the hair, pulled her head back and brushed his lips down her neck that smelled of purple lilac. Capturing her alluring scent, he grazed up to her cheek with his steamy breath, his tongue caressing her willing flesh, with a sensual appetite. He kissed the tip of her nose then each of her eyes, moving down to her savory lips. As he attempted to pull away, she seized his lower lip with her teeth, pulling him back to her mouth, kissing for an endless time. Full with euphoria, they took a breath and filled their glasses with wine.

  “Let us make a toast, Sam… to our latest step in our relationship.” She held up her glass. “Here’s to us. And to you, my boyfriend, let us make a betrothal: a mutual promise for a future marriage someday. That is, if you want that with me,” she offered with angel eyes.

  He could not believe his ears. Everything he had ever wanted seemed to be coming together. J.R. really knew what he was talking about, he thought to himself. Samuel held his glass up, grinned. “To us, Kat. And to you, my girlfriend. I can’t think of anything more great than bein’ your husband someday. Cheers!” He clanked his glass against hers.

  “I’m so glad you brought me out here, Sam. I love the outdoors,” she admitted, studying the celestial bodies above.

  “Me too, Kat.” He took her glass from her and sat it down. “Let’s lay down and look at the stars. Do you want to?”

  “Okay.” She took his hand, laid down with him and pointed up. “Look at that bright one there: that’s Mars.”

  “Who’s Mar?”

  “Ha ha ha, Sam. It’s a planet, silly?”

  “Oh… ! Gees, Kat. There are so many stars up there. Do you think we’ll ever travel to them someday?”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “I reckon so,” he admitted, feeling it to be true. “Look, Kat, a fallin’ star!” he pointed, nestling up to her.

  “Hurry, Sam, make a wish before it’s gone!”

  “I wish that…”

  “Don’t say it out loud… then it won’t come true.”

  “Oh! Okay, Kat. I won’t.” Like a hammer hitting his thumb, he recalled why he had hardened with concern earlier about telling her that he loved her: he was afraid that his past would push her away; but he owed it to her to tell her why he had moved away from home. She needed to know the facts before their connection deepened. And after she found out about his past, if she wanted out then, then it is best that he moved on and forget about this town and his new cherished life forever.

  “Are you alright, Sam?” she inquired. She arose up onto her elbows and peered down at him.

  He got up onto his elbows, peered over to her, terrified that he would lose everything once he had told her what she must hear. But before he began his tale, he examined her carefree expression, not knowing if she would ever possess that for him again. Taking in a deep breath, he exhaled with an unnatural smile, wagging his head with utter destruction of hope. “I have somethin’ important to tell you, Kat,” he began, letting go of her hand.

  “What is it, Sam, that troubles you?”

  “It’s ’bout my past… and what happened in the barn.”

  CHAPTER 17

  THE BARN

  TOPSAIL ISLAND

  1863

  As the sun went down in the early spring, Samuel found himself in the shelter of the barn, staying out of the way of his stepfather, Arthur Malory, smoking, drinking, and sculpturing away at his creations. Though the air was chilly, he stayed warm by way of the lantern, giving him light as well.

  He was positioned at a workbench, sitting on a wicker stool, completing the work of an Indian warrior standing proud and holding a musket at his side. After adding the final details of the warrior’s prideful face, he took a snort of whiskey and rolled a fat cigarette. Striking a match off of the dirty, worn-out heel of his boot, he puffed twice, igniting his nerve-calming tobacco.

  With his cigarette dangling from his lips, he grasped a chunk of dried oak and whittled away until the form of his next project emerged. A few minutes into the effortless part of his work, the barn door creaked open. Expecting it to be his mother coming home from the restaurant, he peered over, ready to greet her with warmth; but instead, his emotions flowed cold with ill will, wishing to annoy the intruder, hoping the “aggravation” would simply go away. “What’re you doin’ in here ART!” he demanded, expressing displeasure upon his wary face.

  “Wha’d I tell you ’bout callin’ me ART, BOY?!” he bellowed as he closed in on Samuel with a whiskey bottle in his hand, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. “You address me as ‘PA’.”

  “You ain’t my pa! My pa was a good man!” He had one eye on Arthur Malery and the other on his design. “You ain’t nothin’ but a miserable ol’ drunkard!”

  “Why you li’le bastard! How dare you speak to me that way?” Arthur Malory took two angry puffs of his cheap cigar, producing a radiant, orange glow. Blowing off the excess ash, he twisted the smoldering cigar out on the back of Samuel’s neck, chunks of the cherry falling onto the dried hay lying about on the ground.

  “AHHH!” Samuel cried out with implausible agony, dropping the items from his hands and reaching for the scorched surface of this neck as he turned around to face his attacker. “I SHOULD KILL YOU! YOUR GONNA GET WHAT’S COMIN’ TO YOU, ART!” he screamed, starting to black out in his rage.

  “You ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me, boy!” Arthur Malory slammed down a healthy slug of whiskey and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, a devilish grin surfacing. He took four steps back and sat down the whiskey bottle. “You ain’t nothin’ but a pip-squeak. Come on, boy, show me Whatcha got. I’ll putchu six feet under!” He flared his chest, clenched his fists, knuckles popping as he took a step toward Samuel, a fierce look in his bloodshot eyes.

  Never witnessing this savageness before in his stepfather, Samuel reached around to the workbench, frantically searching for his knife as he kept both eyes on the man.

  Arthur Malory took his second step.

  Samuel’s heart raced, not being able to locate the blade as he peered into the eyes of evil.

  Arthur Malory took his third step, growling.

  Fearing for his life with his body shaking, his mouth so dry that he could not swallow, eyes wide open and glossy, Samuel took hold of the knife with its shiny, six-inch blade, displayed it at his lap, angled upward.

  In his drunken stupor, Arthur Malory, with his hands up ready to strangle Samuel, took his last step and tripped over a board hidden under the hay. He landed with his chest on Samuel’s thighs; the weight of the 350 pound, 6'5” man, crumpled the wicker stool, sending Samuel and him crashing onto the dirt floor.

  The lantern fell over and rolled, dropped onto the ground and caught fire to the hay. The flame grew quick. Arthur Malory lay atop Samuel, moaning, not removing himself from the clear and present danger. Samuel, with all his might, rolled his stepfather off of him, laying him onto his back. In his state of confusion, Samuel hopped over his stepfather, getting away from the unbearable heat at his back. The blaze clearly showed Arthur Malory clenching his chest with both hands, a knife handle sticking out between his grasp. He lay there groaning, his eyes piercing into Samuel’s eyes like a spear. Samuel tried pulling the knife from his body, but his stepfather slowly shook his head no, not allowing him to remove the wedged blade from between his ribs that had sunk deep into his weakening heart.

  Seeing deep red blood rushing out from the wound, Samuel began to panic; he knew he h
ad to get the man out before the barn burned down. He tugged with everything he had, but couldn’t budge him. “Please get up, sir. You have to get out! I can’t do it by myself . . . you’re too big!” he begged, pulling and jerking at his arm.

  Arthur Malory’s head fell to one side, his eyes wide open as he breathed not another breath. Samuel let out a defeated cry, pulled his knife free, stood and hung his head.

  “OH MY GOD! YOU MURDERED MY BROTHER! AHHH! SAMUEL MURDERED ARTHUR! AHHH! I HEARD YOU SAY YOU WERE GOING TO GIVE HIM WHAT HE DESERVED AND KILL HIM!” Beth screamed in a horrific frenzy, standing at the door, a witness that Samuel had pulled a bloody knife from her brother’s chest. “I’M GETTING THE MARSHAL! SAMUEL MURDERED MY BROTHER! AHHH! AHHH! AHHH!” she hectically bawled, running away, rambling on.

  Watching her dash out the door, he was in awe, his knife dripping with blood at his side. With the place going up in flames, the horse neighed, springing with an arching leap, trying to escape the stable. Samuel snapped out of his daze, realized the danger. He ran over to the black steed and unlatched the gate, opening it. “Hurry, Clover . . . get out!” he yelled, grabbing the bridle and saddle and exiting the structure with the horse, knowing he must leave his home.

  Outside the blazing barn, it toppled down in sections. He fit the horse with the accessories then placed his foot into the left stirrup, just able to mount his riled bronc. He sat high above the ground with the rein in his hand, tipping back his hat as he watched the big red barn that he and his father had built burn to its base. All the tools he had inherited from his father were inside the inferno and gone forever. He would never be able to touch them again, that which his father once held in his hand; the last bit of the past that they had shared slipped away eternally. He sat still and silently, overwhelmed with anguish. Turning away, he gave one last glance at his home with a single light glowing inside, a single tear falling from his grieving eyes.