The house comes with two serving women dressed in white. These women stand beside the caretaker heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them. Jude refuses to let me walk so I am stuck hiding my covered face in his shirt. The two women follow us into the house closing the door. One shows us the way to the bedroom. The other turns off to the kitchen. Jude doesn’t hesitate to lay me on the immaculate white bed. I’m filthy.
“Run her a shower and a bath. I need a hot meal and cold water for her to drink, with ice if you have it. My wife is with child and we’ve come a long way. She needs quiet and rest. All visitors and messages are to be directed to me. Send in a physician. A woman doctor or a nurse if there is none. No one of weak constitution. My wife was injured saving our lives and she wears the scar on her face.”
“God bless the poor dear. She has surely earned a place in heaven for showing such courage and valor.” The woman says tearfully.
My eyes tear up too. He has to warn people before he shows them my face. To spare me their shocked and horrified looks when they see me for the first time. Jude removes my scarf and sets it aside. The woman weeps softly. The poor thing. I want to cover it again.
“It doesn’t hurt. I assure you.” I try to console her.
“You are still beautiful, Mrs. Hamilton. More beautiful now after such an honorable sacrifice. You are the kind of woman we want our young girls to become. The way the good Reverend carried you in here today had the women swooning. You are a hero in their eyes, and in mine.”
I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. What if she finds out what I do to him when we are in bed? Will she still want their girls to be like me? Jude is never too tired to take care of me. He brushes the woman aside to shower me himself and wash my hair. I’ve never used shampoo like this before. It burns my eyes but I don’t care. It smells so good and the warm water is wonderful. After the road dirt is scrubbed away with a loofah and I’m sponged with a moisturizer, I’m transferred to the tub. The woman sits in a chair behind my head to carefully detangle my hair. Jude takes a long, steaming, shower five feet away. He’s humming a Lauren Hill song. I smile inside.
“Reverend Hamilton, we still get satellite radio and TV if you want to listen to The Miseducation of Lauren Hill. We are only allowed to listen to Brother Matthew’s radio broadcasts. He mostly talks about the weather and old Yankees games.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t, good Sister. I want you to stay here and assist my wife for the duration of our visit.”
“I am honored, good Reverend. I will gladly care for the Goodwife. My family will be so proud of me. I will surely be favored by my father.”
“I’ll send a letter telling him how helpful you are and how well you represent his house. You will move into the household immediately. Can you shoot?”
“I can shoot the eye out of a fly, good Reverend. I am not afraid to shoot the eye out of a man to do right by you and our church. The other girl is my cousin, Belle. She came in with a group from Nevada. Her whole church died from the sickness. She was the only one that walked away after she buried the last member. Belle doesn’t speak but she is honest and kind. She’s wonderful with children and will take care of yours when it comes.”
“Tell her I am not a strict leader. I don’t mind her speaking. My wife can use the company. We won’t be here when our child is born but the offer is kind.”
“It’s not that she doesn’t want to speak, good Reverend. Her husband cut out her tongue for talking back one too many times.”
“He did what?” Judea wants to hear it again to be sure.
“He cut out her tongue, Reverend. She’s crippled.”
My stomach rolls over. I bet no one said or did a thing because it is his right if his church allows it. The good Reverend Hamilton, may he rest in paradise, would have the husband hanged in front of the church. He wouldn’t condone mutilation for talking back. Not when twenty lashes and two days in the box for every offense would have gotten the job done. Barbarism is uncalled for. I heard stories of churches that are into dark things like barbarism.
“Did her husband die in the sickness?”
“No Reverend, he lives here. He left my cousin with her family and came here when the first members fell ill. He set her aside and took new wives.”
“The church gave him more women after what he did to the first one?”
“They gave him three.”
“Who approved the marriages?”
“Elder Lamb. He’s in charge here.”
“Excuse me?” Judea gives her a look that makes me feel sorry for her.
“Forgive me, Reverend. You are our blessed leader but when you aren’t around he does what he pleases. He has ten wives himself. A few of the girls he married when they were fourteen. The naysayers were cast out into the desert. He banishes anyone who opposes him into the desert.”
We all get quiet. These people are out of control. Judea is not happy and when he isn’t happy, he makes the people who made him unhappy feel unhappy too.
“We can finish this discussion later. Right now, I need to focus on my wife.”
The dark-skinned girl that went into the kitchen is Belle. No man will ever marry her after that barbarian set her aside. She ended up working for the Deacons and probably services them in bed upon request. Women do not discuss such things and I doubt if many think about it when they are underneath the Deacons and their sons. Men can have as many women as they want. Why would Judea want one wife? It would be the second wife’s job to help me right now and the third would be cooking our supper. We all have our role in the household and it makes things run smoothly. Jealousy is not tolerated or mentioned. You know your role coming into the marriage and it’s your choice to be married or stay home and be useful to your family. You choose to accept the conditions and dynamics of things. The woman combing my hair is plain and pudgy. In our church, she will be beautiful to a man who likes pudgy women. He’ll love her and make her one of his wives.
“Belle is one of the few black women we have left. The others belong to very strict husbands who do not let them out of their houses anymore, not even for church. When the sickness happened, the country’s population of native blacks was only thirteen percent or so. Most of them lived in the cities that were hit the worst. There are words whispered like, endangered, and rare. The church swore an oath of silence to never tell who the women belong to.”
Her words send a chill through me. How many of us are left?
“I don’t want you leaving this house without me, Dumani. It’s an order that I do not want defied.” Judea says stepping out of the hot shower. Steam rolls from his naked body like a mystical male wood nymph emerging from the mist. The woman’s fingers go still in my hair. We both watch him reach for a big, white, towel and wrap it around his waist. He smiles when he catches me staring at him. I can’t help staring. He’s so perfect to me. The towel hangs so low that I can see a sprinkle of dark hair peeking above the edge. He takes another and towels his other dark hair. My eyes are glued to the dark hair down below.
“Would you like a haircut sir? I can call a barber.” The woman’s fingers move again.
“No one is cutting his hair.” I hiss at her. I blush and feel an inch tall. I shouldn’t speak to her that way. I shouldn’t raise my voice at all. It is bold, insubordinate and ungodly in a woman. She shouldn’t stare at my husband like that either. I don’t like it. Jude’s eyebrows raise.
“Forgive me, husband. I raised my voice.” I’m not sorry but I say it anyway.
“Say five hail Mary’s and come to bed, Dumani.” He waves it off.
The woman gasps and her hands shake. She crosses herself.
“Judea.” I shake my head in disappointment. His laughter triggers my smile.
“I love it when you say my name like that. Say it again.”
“Judea.” It comes out on its own. “Don’t tease. The good sister will think ill of you.”
“The good sister will know how much I love my wife. Th
e wife I vowed to love, honor, and protect. I love you. I’m not ashamed of it. I rejoice in it.”
“The good sister hopes her own husband loves her the same way one day.” She says quietly.
“I’ll finish my wife’s hair, thank you. Leave us.”
“Yes, good Reverend. Push the call button if you need anything. I’ll bring the food up the moment it’s ready.”
Jude drops his towel and slips into the tub behind me. He leans me back against his chest and takes up the comb. I look around the strange bathroom in awe. It’s so white. This entire house is beautiful. It’s nicer than anything back home.
“Dumani, you’re three months along. As much as I’d like to leave next week, we won’t make it home before the baby is born. You can’t be on the back of a horse in your condition and you aren’t giving birth on the side of the road. We are stuck here until you have the baby.”
“Whatever you think is best, Judea.”
Inside, I’m sick. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. This place feels like a trap with its pretty buildings and pretty women. It’s a man trap. It won’t trap mine.
“While we’re here, I’ll get this place in order. The things the woman told us are unacceptable and must be handled accordingly. I’ll be the good Reverend’s son because they need me. Always, I am your husband first. I don’t want you working or wandering off. I don’t want you making new friends or telling anyone about your immunity. Don’t trust anyone.”
“I won’t.”
He’s worried about me. He’s trying to keep me safe. I want to be safe. I want to go home. After years of practice, Jude is a master at detangling and smoothing my hair. He braids the last two plaits.
“It’s grown so long over the years. I love your curly hair.”
“It’s hard to comb.”
“Your hair is perfect and I enjoy combing it. I enjoy touching it and pulling it.”
“Judea, you are the Reverend now. We shouldn’t behave like commoners.”
“I am no preacher, Dumani. You know me. I’m beyond redemption and I am not sure if I want to be redeemed. I want to laugh with you and tease you. I want to see you smile and hear you swear. I want to hear you cry my name when I am inside of you. I don’t want to be the Reverend and I don’t want you to feel like a slave to our religion. I am your husband. Me. I say what you can and can’t do, not the church.”
He turns me around so I’m straddling him. His hands cup my bottom as he guides me down on his hardness. My plaits hang down past my breasts and brush my ribcage.
“Move your hips, Dumani. Move your hot pussy up and down on my dick.”
His dirty words make me flush. They make me feel hot. I do as he says and it is insanely gratifying. He said pussy. I move faster. He said dick. I come down harder. I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around my waist. We kiss and moan as the water sloshes around us in the big tub. I will never get enough of this. I will never stop loving him. We make love, draw the drapes, and make love again in bed.
The room is black when I open my eyes. Judea is sleeping heavily beside me. He’s snoring and everything. I wonder, when was the last time he slept so well? He doesn’t stir when I leave the bed. I make my way to the window from memory. It’s still dark and the moon is high in the cloudless sky when I crack the curtain. Only wide enough to cast a sliver of blue light into the room. I sit down to our cold meal and eat it like it is fresh from the oven. I don’t know what it is. It is beef and beans rolled up into the flattest cake I have ever seen. I eat the lettuce and tomatoes plain the way I always do. I eat and eat and then I sit and stare out of the crack in the curtain.
The only people walking about are dressed for war and carrying assault weapons. Most attacks happen at night when people are vulnerable. Cowards come in and attack when defenders are sleeping and unaware. Not us. We are always watching. We are always ready. We have our own scouts out there in the desert moving like lizards in the sand. Watching for two-legged animals and taking them out before they wander too close to home. I think about the pistols under our pillows. We always sleep with a gun at hand. So far, the only person killing everyone they meet is me. I’ve killed a few men on this trip. I will kill a hundred more. I look over at Jude’s sleeping form. He’s all I have and everything I want. No one is going to harm him without going through me first. I’m his wife. I’m carrying his child. This is my prayers come true. I feel better already. I feel stronger because of his love. His strong body has finally given out and he needs me. I’ll be here for him to take care of him and be whatever he needs me to be.
I watch him sleep all night. I am lying beside him still watching him when the sun comes up. The maid returns and trades the dinner tray for a cold breakfast tray. She takes our laundry and dirty towels. I don’t know how I feel about some woman doing my husband’s laundry. I enjoy taking care of him. I want to take care of him. I eat breakfast alone and wonder why it is so cool in here when it’s so hot outside. Big fans suspended from the high ceiling turn in lazy circles. Father said men should live simply. Excess is waste and waste is a sin. This place seems boastful and proud. I think about my cold room over the barn. It seemed like so much when it was all I had. When I go home, I will live with Jude. I’ve never seen the new house. Not many people do. No one is allowed on their property without written permission from the Reverend Hamilton himself. Titus has been there. He slept over more times than I can count but he never talks about his visits.
I dress in one of my old dresses and sit at the window again. I watch the guards change shifts and the first stir of people. They are coming out of their homes and walking down the road in droves. Everyone is wearing all white. They look like ghosts in the early light. They file into the church one after the other like they are in a trance. The young, the old, and everyone in between. There’s a soft knock on the door. It scares me. Jude is up before I can react.
“Hey, you.” He says pulling on his pants. My answer is a warm smile.
“Reverend Hamilton, the people are in the church waiting for you to give the morning motivation. A suit was sent up with a dress for the Goodwife.”
“Yes, of course. We’ll be fifteen minutes.” He forgot her name already. So, did I.
“Take your time, good Reverend. You all have come a long way and you are tired. The people understand. If you want to say a prayer instead, it will be fine.”
“I appreciate your understanding. God bless the Saints.”
“God bless the Saints.”
The woman is smiling when she leaves. The Hamilton’s are the oldest family in the church. Next, comes the Dare’s. That’s why Father still lives like his ancestors. The Hamilton’s are royalty. We are farmers. Jude goes into the bathroom after the housekeeper leaves. He comes out five minutes later with a clean-shaven face and brushed back hair. He smells like soap when he pulls me to my feet and hugs me. He tastes like mint when he kisses me. We are kissing when the serving woman comes in with our clothes. We don’t have time to kiss. He’s late for church. We dress quickly in the provided clothing. It’s well tailored and cut from good clothe. They included a swath of white silk which Jude helps me wrap around my face and hair. I don’t care what people say. I am not ready to uncover my face yet. When I am ready, I will. My husband understands and he doesn’t try to force me. You heal at your own pace, Beloved, he’d said.
“You are the sexiest ninja ever.” He whispers when we leave for the church. I force down a laugh. My scarf hides my smile. I walk three feet behind him as required with my chin down. He turns around six times to tease me.
“Judea, stop it. You’re going to make me laugh.” I hiss at him. He laughs for us both.
The church is huge and all eyes are on us as we walk down the long aisle. This is a beautiful church. It is a wonderful place to worship. The front pew is reserved for the Goodwife. Jude continues to the revered place at the altar. The high Deacons sit in a line behind him. There are ten total including
Father. Before I sit down, the congregation breaks out in thunderous applause. I clap too. My husband looks good up there. I am so proud of him. He’s clapping too and looking at me. Everyone is looking at me. I blush behind my mask and bring my hands to my warm cheeks. Wait a minute. Are they clapping for me? Why would they be clapping for me? My heart is so full that it could burst. I can’t stop my tears. They are clapping for me. Jude comes down from Mount Olympus to hold me. I wrap my arms around him and I lean on him.
“We wouldn’t have made it without you. They know your worth.”
“I was doing my duty to you and to the church.”
“I know, Dumani. Don’t cry. I’ll be right up there watching you.”
He kisses my head and sits me down again. The applause dies down when he begins to speak in a strong, clear, voice.
“God bless the Saints.”
“God bless the Saints, good Reverend.” We say as one.
Chapter Eighteen
“First, on behalf of myself and my family, I offer my thanks for your wonderful hospitality. When elder Dare told me of his plight to retrieve his wife, as a man of God and his son-in-law, it was my duty to accompany him.”
He’s met with a chorus of amen. I blush under my scarves. What a liar he is.
“The Shepherd must watch over his flock no matter how far they may roam. In these days of recovery, it is important to keep families together and rebuild our numbers. We must never give ourselves over to outside influences or turn away from our ways.”
“Amen, good Reverend!”
“Preach!”
“I have seen things here that do not reflect the church that my forefathers built.” The church quiets. “I’ve seen women keeping company with men who aren’t their husbands. I saw women batting their lashes at me and smiling at me with generous eyes. All this while my sick wife lay prone in my arms.”
The Doomsday Papers Page 18
