“You found her.” He says in relief.
Belle transfers from her saddle to my brothers. We ride her horse back to the house. I know that I am sweaty and I don’t smell pretty but I hold onto him anyway. It was hotter than hell today. The heat and stress drained me. Jude is warm and he smells good. I close my eyes and drift off behind him. I didn’t mean to. I let go of him and slide from the saddle. Once again, it’s Judea’s quick hands that catch me before I can kill myself. It scares the hell out of us. We’re lucky baby Jude is tied to his chest and not my back. It might have gone differently. He stops the horse and lowers me to the ground before he climbs down.
“Jesus, Dumani. Are you okay?” He uncovers my face. I don’t argue.
“Yes. I must have fallen asleep.”
“Give us the baby. We’ll take him back. Is she hurt?” Titus asks Jude instead of me.
“No, she seems okay. We’ll meet you at the house.”
My brother rides off leaving me alone with the enemy. I protest when he starts worrying over me.
“I’m fine, I said. Stop it.”
“You were up all night and you cried all morning. You look exhausted and it’s all because of me. I’m draining you.” He uncovers my hair. “Your eyes are always sad.”
“You have too many responsibilities, Judea. They are interfering with each other.”
“I know they are.” I let him hug me. “I’m going to un-hurt you, Duma. We are going to be better than before.”
“I honestly don’t see how at this point.”
“We will, you’ll see. Don’t give up on me.”
He boosts me up into the saddle and swings up behind me. I relax against him. He wraps one arm around me and holds both reins in with his free hand. The horse is off course.
“We’re staying at the neighboring house until we leave. I rode over earlier and there was no sign of life. There are six graves and I found a decomposed body in the garage. I buried it with the rest and opened the house.”
I don’t say anything. I’m pleased. It shows that he is listening.
“I know it doesn’t make up for yesterday. I want you to be comfortable. I’m staying with you and we are sleeping in the same bed. We don’t have to make love. I understand you not wanting to. I need to be with you right now.”
I don’t want to fight. I fought more today than I have in my life. I said so many nasty things. It came out like vomit. I couldn’t stop it. I felt purged afterward. Now, I feel empty. At least we can be sad together. My brother is waiting with the baby. They ride off after passing him to his father. I take my boots off at the door out of respect. I can tell the family spent a lot of money to get it to look like this. It’s beautiful. There is no power but the well is still producing. This is a big house. They were wealthy whoever they were. Judea goes through the drawers and finds a clean nightgown that is waiting for a woman buried outside. The same woman who folded it so neatly and put it here. It’s one of many silky things.
“I lit the hot water heater earlier. It runs on gas. The stove runs on gas too and the pantry is full. They have a pool. It’s pretty clean.” He stops talking to take my hands in his with a serious expression. “I don’t want a divorce. Please, don’t divorce me.”
“I don’t want a divorce either.” I admit sadly. I will never divorce him.
“I know you don’t understand right now. You think I’m choosing the church over you and I am madly in love with my new wives. I will never touch them the way I touch you again. I’m going to fix the church. I can’t do anything without you by my side. I’m not doing this for power or money. I have enough of both. I’m doing this because I can make a difference. I have plans, big plans. Huge plans like their president Trump. Remember him?” He says smiling.
I giggle. Who doesn’t? We see how that turned out. How funny. Not for him, for those who watched it from the outside. Our people were here to see the pilgrim takeover. They watched them slash their way across this country and enslave anyone who wasn’t white. History says blacks were brought over on ships. They leave out the ones who were already here. They leave out the freemen and dark skinned natives gathered up and thrown in with the bunch. Africans and Polynesians were sailing the world tens of thousands of years before the pilgrims set off in those tubs. Why don’t they teach that in their history class? We learned it in ours. We learned the founding fathers were rapists and murderers. We learned that commoners are a joke. They were lambs and they followed their crooked leaders to slaughter. What did they know? The poor wretches were bred to obey their government. It makes me think about the way we followed the good Reverend. He was the best leader in the world in my eyes. Until my eyes were opened. Jude with his three wives and two children is following in his footsteps but he is not his father. His father would never coddle a woman the way he coddles me.
“Take a shower. Me and Judi will make you something to eat. Won’t we, man?” He tickles my laughing baby. The sound makes my milk let down. These two make my heart full. I undress and take down my braids before I get in. I scrub away the sweat and the grime but I can’t wash away the thought that has been dominating my subconscious. Do I love the traitor?
Chapter Twenty-nine
I don’t know. Who do I compare him to? He will never compare to my husband. I feel guilty for thinking about another man. I feel bad even though Jude has two wives and one of them is pregnant. I love him and it’s what our men do. What he does won’t change the way I love him. I am his. Despite what he needs to do for the church, he is mine. Judea Hamilton belongs to me. I find myself in a quandary. The church needs a leader like Jude. He’s right. God knows what will happen if he walks away. It’s probably good that my father isn’t qualified. He would keep the prettiest virgins for himself and have any naysayers executed. One of the Deacons might have me executed. They hate me enough right now. I am already fifty lashes in debt with them.
“Are you alright in there?”
His knock on the steamy door reminds me where I am. Shriveling up in a cooling shower.
“Yes, I was just getting out.” I shiver as I turn off the water and wring out my wet hair. Judea is holding a towel when I step out onto the woven bath math.
“You’re cold.” The towel is warm but not as warm as his body when he hugs me. He hugs me for a long time. I welcome it. This is still where I feel safest. This will always be home. When Judea takes my face in his hands. I lean into him.
“Do you love him more than you love me?”
“I never said I loved him. How do I know if I love him? I’ve only loved you.”
“Are you falling out of love with me?”
Am I falling out of love with him? I hate what he did and I resent the church for forcing those women on us. He fell in love with them. It isn’t enough to make me stop loving him.
“I don’t know what’s happening and I am afraid.” I admit. “But, I’m not falling out of love with you, Judea.”
He lifts me off my feet when he kisses me. I wrap my arms around him and I give into the fire that he ignites in me. A fire that I shouldn’t feed. It engulfs me and steals the objection right off my tongue like a thief in the night. It makes me forget we are fighting and it charms me right out of my towel and onto the strange bed. Once his naked skin is touching mine, the only fight going on is the one to get him inside of me as soon as possible.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.” Judea groans it between thrusts. I eat his words like I’m starving. His muscles flex under my hands as I run them over his whipcord body. I want him inside of me more than I want to fight or be mad. This isn’t for him. This is for me. I am common in all ways.
“Judea.” I cry his name when his thrusts get harder and go deeper. He’s cumming. He’s cumming and making it feel better. Jude doesn’t cum before I do. I cry out to the universe. I cry out my thanks for putting us together.
“You feel so good. I can’t hold back when your tight pussy squeezes me like this. I want to go deeper and deeper when I’m making you cum
. You get so wet and soft inside. It feels so damn deep.”
“You are so big.”
“Dumani—”
I hold him against me when he empties his heart and his soul into me. I can be angry again tomorrow. I’ll think about our wickedness tomorrow. Right now, I need him. He is the reason for my pain and the cure. We lay together with our bodies still joined and fingers entwined. Judea kisses my hand but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Neither do I. He slapped me yesterday and I tried to shoot him. Words were exchanged and challenges were laid down. It all led us here. Everything leads us here. To this magical place called together.
“I messed up. I messed up everything, Dumani.” He sobs brokenly. “I got her pregnant. I hit you. I’m not myself. I’m losing it. I’m going crazy.”
I comfort Judea as he cries even though he doesn’t deserve my sympathy. He earned it. He earned it when he fell in love with me. I am still his wife.
“I’m not like them, Judea. I want to be in good standing with the church. I want you to be happy. It’s my fault for being common.”
“Please don’t make excuses for what I did. I don’t want you to be like them. You aren’t common. You are my wife. I’m a fuck-up, Beloved. Always was and I don’t deserve you.”
“What now?” I ask him.
“We are going to keep loving each other.”
His tear stained face triggers an ache in my gut. Everything is okay when he is kissing me and making love to me. He rolls between my legs twice during the night like I am his only wife. Judea whispers he loves me and makes me feel better. Knocking on the door awakens us from a hibernation like sleep and drags Judea out of bed. I admire his naked body as he pulls on his jeans. He smiles lazily as he tucks his dick down the left leg and zips up. He cocks his shotgun.
“It’s probably Titus. I’ll be right back.”
It’s not Titus. It’s the Deacons and they complain right away.
“Why didn’t your wife answer the door? Why isn’t she here seeing to our needs? I want a cup of coffee and breakfast. The Dare girl is corrupted and lazy.”
“She’s tired, not lazy. What do you want?”
“Good Reverend, your wife is causing a division among the men. She wanders off and brings bad energy into your home. Your second and third wife are afraid of her and we know she runs wild. Why are you here in bed with her if she’s being punished?”
“It’s none of your business who I sleep with. You overstep. Where you are stepping can get you hurt, Deacon. My wife was locked underground for months and she enjoys being outside. She’s not running wild. Why are you following her anyway?”
“For a few reasons, Reverend. Half the men think she’s spying for the government and the other half think she’s cursed you. They all believe the commoners will come back for her. The brothers question if she is worth dying for.”
“Duma is no spy or sorceress. Stop following her. Stop watching her. That’s an order, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Reverend. We only did it out of concern for you and for the safety of the church. We want assurance that she wants to be the Goodwife. Are we out here saving a woman who doesn’t want to be saved, Reverend? A brother witnessed Mrs. Hamilton humming today and it wasn’t a spiritual hymn. She hummed banned music and not once did she pray. He said, she cried and stared off into the desert like she was pining for something or someone. Brother Jarred said that Mrs. Hamilton looked like she wanted to leave again, Sir.”
“He was close enough to my woman to hear her humming?” Judea asks icily. “Does brother Jarred know my wife so intimately that he has permission to stalk her and read her thoughts? Is he a witch?”
The men gasp collectively. Judea is accusing the man outright of sorcery. He is very, very, angry but the men are shallow and unaware. They see the teeniest tip of the iceberg that is Judea’s cold, dark soul. He is capable of anything when he gets like this. My heart beats fast. I am spying around the corner barefoot and wearing Judea’s half-buttoned shirt. I should be brewing coffee and making fry cakes for the men. There should be glasses of cold water on the table and a broom or mop being put to good use. I should be seeing to their horses. I lean against the wall instead.
“I don’t believe the brother practices dark magic, Reverend Hamilton. He was merely giving an observation.” Brother Jarred blushes purple. “We are God fearing men.”
“The next God fearing man I catch observing my wife will be observing a roll of dimes coming out the business end of my shotgun. It’s not your place to reprimand me, Deacon. My family founded this church. My wife’s family has been here since the beginning. The Dares helped build our community. Some of your ancestors showed up with the Mormons and married into our numbers. You have no say. Your days of voting and putting in your two cents about what is good for me and my church are over.”
“You can’t do that, Reverend. We won’t let you take away our power. We won’t let you keep the witch—”
The blast damn near gives me a heart attack. Judea shot him. Oh, my God. He shot him right in the middle of the freaking living room! I clutch my pounding heart. I catch my shaky breath. The men erupt into arguing.
“Reverend! You killed him! You shot him in cold blood!”
“Sit down, Ephraim.” He says calmly. “This is what happens when men get too comfortable with their imaginary hierarchy. I am the Hamilton. Me. Your lack of good judgment and blatant disrespect proves to me that none of you are responsible enough to have a say. I went along to be nice but insulting my wife has pushed me in a way you shouldn’t have. The next one of you who calls her the Dare girl or a whore again will be put to death. Is that understood?”
“Your father was satisfied with the way we worshipped in his absence. He visited often and he always enjoyed his visits. The good Reverend spoke of relocating here and merging us all as one. We thought you came to Texas to stay. It’s what your father wanted.”
“My father, God bless his soul, is dead. I was born in New York. I will raise my children in New York, and I will die in New York. Titus Dare will stay behind and serve as my steward. I trust him to enforce my laws by any means necessary. He’s the only Elder whose opinion matters anymore. It’s a new day. Anyone who doesn’t like it, is welcome to go.”
“Reverend, your words will cause unrest in the church.”
“No, it won’t. I made my demands. Everyone has two choices. Accept them and stay or refuse and leave. It’s not up for debate. Let them leave. I don’t need men like them around me. Good riddance. Now, get the fuck out of here and take the body with you. Send his people to clean up this mess. We leave for Texas at dawn.”
Cold. Controlling. Deliciously dark. My warrior. My husband. My king is protecting his queen. If he can do this for me, I can serve coffee and make breakfast for his little church friends the next time they stop by.
“Stay the fuck away from my wife, you fucking peep-freaks.” Judea slams the door behind them. Rude. Peep-freaks? And he has room to talk? I shake my head. He comes around the corner so silently that he bumps into me. His hands reach out to steady me. His eyes are blazing when they rake over me from head to toe and back up again. My wild hair, bare feet, his half open shirt. We come together hungrily. He pushes his shirt down over my shoulders and worships my body with his lips. They kiss me everywhere. My husband backtracks and kisses me in those places again when I think his torture is over. Judea. I throw back my tangled head and I say it to the heavens. Judea. He fucks me against a wall painted the color of fall pumpkins. A color chosen by a spoiled wife and applied by her willing husband. They didn’t get to enjoy it for long. I wrap my arms around my husband’s neck and I enjoy it for us all. I love this color. I love this man. I love what he’s doing to me right now. It’s so big and long. In and out. In and out. In and out. I love the fullness. That’s when he enjoys it most. When has it all inside of me and he’s pushing boundaries. Judea doesn’t respect boundaries. He never has.
“Judea.” It sounds lik
e a plea. Oh God, Judea.
“Dumani.” It sounds like a promise. It feels like a promise. “Cum with me. Cum on my dick. Yes, my love. I love the way your pussy feels when you’re cumming on me.”
This is what I was thinking about when the church spy saw me staring off into the desert. I was thinking about Judea. Not running. Not leaving him. I was thinking about fucking him. I was thinking about loving him. It’s our son’s healthy cry that drags us off the hallway floor thirty minutes later. I am on my hands and knees doing my best to suck him hard again. He pulls his dick out of my mouth and lifts me to my feet. It pokes against my belly when we embrace.
“Later.” He promises with a smile that makes me hopeful. His kiss is not reassuring. It makes me hotter than I already am. It makes the hollow ache between my legs worse. I want it now not later.
“I love you.” I say it because my cup is running over with it and I can’t hold it in. I blink back tears. I love him more than I want to be common.
“I love you too.” He says fondly.
It only takes a few minutes to shower away the sex and clean my mouth. I sit on the edge of the bed naked and Judea settles him in my lap. My little Judi.
“I enjoy watching you nurse him. I have a beautiful wife and a beautiful son. This is what makes me feel like a man. You and my son come first. Francesca’s child will come and it will upset you all over again but we will work through it. In time, we love him or her like our own. It won’t be easy, Duma. I can’t promise you easy. But, I can promise you this feeling forever.”
We kiss over our son’s head. I know our love is real. He is providing what I need and blessing me with everything I want. There is a knock on the door. Judea looks at me.
“I know, wait here.” I roll my eyes. “You say it every time you answer the door.”
The Doomsday Papers Page 31
