His father molested him. Mordecai molested everyone in his household. My brother told me a long time ago. I would never say it aloud. Judea and I look at each other. What do we do? This is who he was born to be. Who am I to steal him away? Who am I to want more?
“If we walk away from the church, you will be considered a traitor and an outcast. Your cousin will be forbidden from speaking to you. The few people you have left will be forced to turn their backs on you. Most importantly, you will turn your back on them. They aren’t as strong as you are, Judea. Who will look after them?”
“I don’t want to hurt you. This isn’t fair to you and our child.”
“My home is wherever you are.”
I watch his eyes soften into two inky puddles. I want to splash in them like a girl in the rain.
“Tell me what to do, Dumani.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Marry them. When we get home, I’ll bury them in the south field.”
His lips curl up into a devilish smile that makes me want to touch him.
“You’re so smart.”
He doesn’t want another wife and it’s my job to keep him happy. I feed him, clean for him, and I take out the trash. Any kind of trash. He grabs me rougher than usual and kisses harder than usual and it makes me feel hotter than usual. I reach down and squeeze him between his legs. I wrap my hand around the ridge in his jeans. Jude holds me tighter. We will have the family we want. What if he decides to keep them? He would never do that to me. I have faith in him. I unfasten his pants and I go down on my knees. I pleasure my husband and it makes me feel full inside. It makes me feel good and it makes him feel good. How can this be wrong if we love each other?
“My sweet wife. I love the way you love me. I love looking at you and being inside of you. I love the child growing inside of you. I love everything about you.”
I moan on him and take him deeper. He likes it. So, I take a little more. His fingers massage my scalp through my plaits. I look up in time to see the pained look on his face when his dangling twins tighten up and he explodes in the back of my mouth.
“Dumani.”
It sounds like a plea. I swallow it all and let go before my mouth becomes painful for him. His cum dribbles down my chin like slobber. Judea can’t look away from it.
“Take off your clothes.” He demands. “Take them off now. Hurry up.”
I reach for the buttons on my dress as he starts on his shirt. We are in a race to see who can get naked first. He beats me by a mile. I have layers. Jude removes my shoes and stockings and kisses a trail up my bare legs. His hand touches my sensitive clit though my underwear. That’s what it’s called, he said. A clit is the secret to the universe. Every time he flicks his tongue over my clit. I believe that. He pushes the soft, homespun cotton down my legs. I watch him get on his knees before me and kiss the tight little patch of curls down there. Jude looks me in the eyes as he parts me with his fingers exposing the secret to the universe. He toys with it with his tongue and pinches it between his fingertips before he licks between my folds and plunges his tongue inside of me. I bury my fingers in his silky hair and I moan. He goes back to licking my clit when his finger slides into me. He’s going to make me cum like this.
“Judea, not yet.” I sob a plea.
“Yes yet, do it, Dumani. I want you to do it in my mouth the way I came in yours.”
He sucks on my secret and moves his finger in and out of me. He adds another. My walls clench around his fingers like a vacuum before they spasm.
“Judea. Oh, my heavens. Yes, please.”
I don’t even know what I am saying but he has me on my back and his sole mission in life right now is to be inside of me. His muscles flex all over his naked body when he moves against mine. His hands touch me and his lips kiss me like I am the last woman he is ever going to kiss. We are one. What we have goes deeper than face or body. What we have is deeper than his father’s sins. What we have is deeper than our church. It is deeper than he is inside of my body right now and passes the child growing there. We beat with the same heart. We love with the same love. There is nothing more perfect than us together. Jude’s body is my blanket against all that would harm me. Nothing can hurt me when I am under him. I cum again crying out for something. Maybe forgiveness, maybe more. It comes out as his name.
“I’m right here, my love. I am right here inside you.”
I hold on to him. I will always welcome Judea. He is still inside me when there is a knock on the door.
“Yes?” He calls from the bed.
“There is a gentleman here to see you and the car is waiting to take you and the Goodwife to the fall feast.”
“I’ll be right there. Thank you.”
“But, the seasons don’t change here.” I’m confused.
I’m sad when he pulls out of me and so is he. Judea watches his cum spill from my body and down the crack of my bottom. I can feel it dripping. He strokes himself as he watches it leak out of me in a white stream.
“This is so beautiful to me.” He says rubbing his thumb over my clit. My walls contract involuntarily and more of him gushes out. “One more time.”
He uses it as lubrication and he takes me again with it leaking between us. I’m not sure if this is what married couples do but what harm is it? It’s his. It came from him. This is the result of his lust and feelings for me. I am his wife. What does it matter what he does with his cum if he’s doing it with me? We shower after and he dresses in another dark suit. I wear a homespun dress that covers all but my face. I am wearing a sun hat with a beautiful lace veil. The women have taken to making me things. The scarves are good for the road but hot in Texas. The short veils offer me a sense a freedom and let in the breeze.
“Gavin, you made it.” Judea is surprised.
The two men clasp hands. Both are genuinely happy to see each other.
“I gave you my word that I would stop on my way. Are you going out?”
He glances at me before turning back to Jude.
“We’re on our way to a festival. You are coming with us.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Hamilton.”
I ignore him. He expects me to. Jude puts a hand on the small of my back as we leave the house. He forgot about the three feet rule already? We ride in back and the stranger sits in front. Judea raises my veil to kiss me when we get in the car. It’s a short ride. They decorated the park like fall and even used real pumpkins.
“Duma, you seem confused? You don’t like the decorations.”
I hesitate to answer. I don’t want to speak in the presence of this stranger.
“They don’t have a fall harvest. Why do all of this?”
“The church started up north, remember? They do it for fun.”
“I’d rather be home with you enjoying the real thing.” I say.
My heart aches when I think about missing the changing of the leaves. It’s my favorite time of year. The hot apple pies and homemade ice cream are a personal favorite. My mother is canning and jarring and baking right now to prepare for the winter. I should be home tending my own family, not here pretending to be clergy. I am a farmer.
“This time next year I’ll be harvesting our fields and you’ll have my son on your hip.” He says as we walk up the path to join the others. The women and children have all congregated on the right and the men on the left. I hate it. I want to be with my husband. The women are always happy to see me, especially when I am wearing their hat.
“Why, Goodwife, you look enchanting today in your new hat. I worked on it for a week straight and it prides me to see it atop your honorable head.”
“Thank you, good sister. It is a beautiful hat and your skills are beyond measure. My new hats have made the heat a bit more bearable being from a cooler clime and with the good Reverends child growing like a bean inside me.”
“Speaking of the wee babe, the women are planning the baby shower. We need a list of your favorite foods and a list of the women you
would like in attendance. Normally, the elder wives attend intimate events for the Goodwife.”
“This child is one of us and we are all the same. Any woman who wishes to come and pay their respects to the good Reverend’s child may do so. We do not have such separations where I’m from. We are all women of the church. It’s our duty to help each other and take care of our homes.”
“Goodwife, why hasn’t the good Reverend taken his wives?” She asks out of the blue. The other women are hanging onto our every word. They want to know too.
“That’s none of your business, good sister.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind.
“Those unmarried girls are all of our business. The good Reverend takes walks with Jennifer and seems to like her well enough. It’s odd and disheartening. They waited years for their marriages and now they sit unwed and doubting themselves. They are good and Godly women. It is bringing shame upon their families.”
She is asking me out of concern, not spite. As the highest ranked woman in their group, it is her duty to bring women’s issues to me. She’s asking something any family with a contract would ask. It is basically signed in blood. There is no backing out unless the woman’s family backs out. No one is going to back out of a contract with Jude Hamilton.
“I’ll speak with my husband and I will send word when I have an answer.”
“Thank you, Goodwife. It will give the families a small comfort knowing they haven’t been forgotten.”
“Of course, sister.”
I eat fried apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream with the women. I taste their pumpkin pie and sip their warm cider. I can’t stop thinking about the part when she said he takes walks with her. When? Does it matter? Why is he walking with her?
“Duma? A word, please?”
Jude doesn’t wait for me before he walks away. He stops a distance away under a tree. I walk over to him wondering if I’ve done something wrong again.
“Are you feeling okay?”
He pulled me aside because I look sick? Judea’s concern is genuine. I don’t care who’s watching. I reach up and touch his face. He looks worried too. He covers my hand with his. They are badgering him the same way they are badgering me.
“What are we going to do?” I ask him tearfully.
“I don’t know.”
I’m six months pregnant when we sit down to dinner with the two girls and their parents. They are all embarrassed to be in the company of a woman as big and pregnant as I am. I’m supposed to be in the maternity ward locked away from my husband until I give birth and stop bleeding. The women are young, eighteen and nineteen. Both are white and untouched by man or the sun. The one I saw outside of the church that day is even more lovely up close. I hide behind my veil, my shield, and I mourn for my own beauty that never was. They sit with their chins down, eyes down, hair down like half church girls and half commoners.
“We are very pleased with the unions and I know you will be happy with our Jennifer. She is beautiful inside and out and as pure as the driven snow. Francesca is just as fine and both are no strangers to work. They can be useful. Now, the Goodwife can retire to the ward.”
Jude doesn’t bother correcting him. “The wedding will happen Sunday afternoon upon which time your daughters will move in with me and they will become my responsibility. I’m returning to my own home after the Goodwife is delivered of her child. My wives are not allowed to travel outside of our boundaries.”
“We’ve discussed it as has several other families and we want to return home with you and worship as a part of your church. We respect your word and we need your guidance. We like the old ways.”
I set my glass aside and sit here like they’re not ruining everything. Several families? This isn’t a wagon train. I make the mistake of looking up at Jude for guidance.
“We have a small, strict congregation. Our women are modest and held to a certain standard. Even the smallest boy knows and understands his role as a man is to provide for his family and be useful.”
“Of course, good Reverend. Goodwife, may my daughter be useful and bring comfort to your home. May she watch you and learn from you and pass down your Godly ways to my granddaughters.”
His compliment goes unwanted and unrecognized. I don’t want to teach his daughter how to be a good wife to my husband. I don’t want to watch her raise his children. They would make beautiful children together. His hand finds mine under the table.
“The Goodwife is very important to me. She will not be subject to envy or complaints. You will respect her like she is me. You are here to make our household run smoothly.”
“Jenni’s mother birthed eight living children. Six of them are boys. She wants to be a mother more than anything in the world. Now that God has blessed her with a husband, a child should not be far behind. Most of my children are dead and buried, grandchildren will carry on my bloodline. Your father was a good man and I hope my Jenni lives up to his expectations.”
The conversation turns to the men’s retreat next week. I am still going to be the best wife that I can be despite this new obstacle. I won’t let them interfere with what I have to do for my husband. He is an important man and I will never have him to myself. That night, I hold him as he cries. My heart is hurting too but mostly for him. He is hurting for me.
“I don’t want this for you, Duma. I don’t want this for us. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The morning of Judea’s wedding. I go to him while he’s dressing in his suit. He looks sad and more handsome than I’ve ever seen him.
“What is it, love?”
“I changed my mind. Don’t marry them. I want to leave today, right now, I don’t want you to marry them.”
“Duma, I can’t back out. My father gave his word. I have no choice.”
I get on my knees and I beg him.
“Please, Judea. Please don’t do this. I love you. Please don’t do this.” I’d beg for my life with this same desperation. “Please don’t marry those women.”
“Christ, Dumani. Get up, baby. Don’t beg me.” He drags me to my feet.
“I don’t want you to marry them.”
“I don’t want to marry them.” He’s fighting back tears. “I have to.”
“You don’t have to. We can run away like you said.”
“That was wishful thinking, Beloved. You said it yourself, I can’t turn my back on our people. They need me and I need you.”
“I can’t do it, Judea. I can’t watch you be with those women.”
“Stop this. I’m not with them. I’ll never be with them. I’m with you, damn it. I love you. Stay with me. Do you hear me, Dumani? Stay with me.”
I watch him stand at the bottom of the aisle dressed in his best waiting for his new wives to walk down to him. Judea broke my heart. Hearing him promise the same promises he promised to me as he slides rings onto their fingers breaks my spirit. When he lifts each veil, and kisses each girl softly on the lips, I die inside. I rest my hand on my kicking baby and cry behind my own veil. I cry so hard. I slip into the crowd and lose myself when the congregation follows the happy couples outside. I’m supposed to follow them and join them in celebration but I can’t. I can’t do anything but hurt. I can’t let them see me crying for my husband. I lock myself behind the first door that I come to and sit on the floor. I rock myself back and forth amid brooms and mops and homemade cleaning supplies. My Judea isn’t mine anymore. He has two new wives to encroach in my space and make a place in his heart. This is natural. I was raised to accept the dynamics and ways of the church. This is greed and envy and lust. I am going to hell. It’s hours before they find me hiding in the closet. I am broken and wracked with grief and I refuse to come out. I defend my hiding place like a bear in a den.
“Come on, Mrs. Hamilton. I won’t hurt you.”
The stranger fights through it and carries me home to my bed. Jude isn’t here, he is out looking for me. I curl up into a ball and cry. I thought I could handle it. I thought I would be okay but
I am not okay.
“You poor thing. I’m so sorry for you. I’m sorry for your child.” He says before leaving the room. His words make me cry harder. People will always pity me. Ten minutes later, I hear Jude’s boots running up the stairs. He’s still wearing his good suit when he drags me off the bed into his arms.
“Get out!” He yells at everyone that followed him into the room. “Get out now!”
His wives file out and the maid closes the door behind them.
“Where in God’s name have you been? Are you hurt? Dumani, talk to me.”
“You don’t love me.” I sob shakily. “You are going to throw me away like father did mother. I am going to be alone like her.”
I am a snotty mess and I can’t stop. I don’t think I will ever stop. That’s all I can manage. I am as limp as a wet towel. Judea checks me over for injuries until he’s satisfied I’m unharmed. He covers my heart with his hand.
“You hurt right here, don’t you?”
He removes his good jacket dropping it on the floor.
“I can make you feel better, Beloved. I can make you feel better all night long.”
It’s his wedding night but he wants to spend it making love to me. He tells me that he loves me and I believe him.
“I embarrassed you today. I ruined your beautiful wedding. The church is upset with me.” I whisper with fresh tears forming in my eyes.
“Dumani, that wedding was for show, you know that. The church will get over it. When we get home, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve. It should have been you coming down the aisle today, I’m sorry.”
“You all looked so beautiful.”
“You know I don’t care about that. You can’t behave this way around others. You can’t be jealous or vengeful until we get home. They’ll call you envious and accuse you of bringing bad energy into our home. The Deacons will expect me to punish you. I won’t do it. I’ll shoot the next man to raise a cane to you.”
“You have to sleep with them. The church won’t be pleased until you sleep with them. They will check the beds in the morning.” I remind him sadly.
The Doomsday Papers Page 20
