Darkest Pattern- The Door

by Riva Zmajoki

  “I have a cloak that will go will with this dress,” her voice trembled a bit, as were her hands with which she pulled the black cape with a hoodie. “It will hide the shine of the dress.”

  “Why are you doing all of this?” Belva grabbed Josephine’s wrist.

  The painful desire burst in Josephine’s chest, she wanted to bite her hand just to relieve the pressure.

  “Does it matter?” Josephine pulled her hand from her grip and put the cape on the armchair. “Besides, isn’t it obvious?”

  Josephine’s breath was heavy now.

  “But I’m so old,” Belva objected. “And I’m not beautiful in the slightest.”

  Josephine growled at her. Belva stepped back.

  “Like it matters. You are who you are. Belva, a full package of irresistible strength. It’s not strange at all that I…” Josephine turned her back to her cutting herself off.

  She didn’t want to say it. There was no way of her to say it out loud. That is a thing she doesn’t say to a woman anymore. Too many times was she ridiculed, misunderstood and lied to.

  “But I did nothing,” Belva said angrily.

  “Please don’t, don’t do anything,” Josephine said quickly and with determination. “Not because of some sense of debt. It’s getting dark. Get dressed and go.”

  Josephine approached her bed and started to straighten the sheets. This is the place she’ll sleep in tonight, on the place she slept in. The scent of her will still be there, that will be enough.

  When she turned, Belva was still there standing.

  “I’ll leave you to dress in privacy,” Bela moved but Belva cut her way.

  “No, don’t,” she said heavily. “If you like me so much, why haven’t you try to seduce me as you did with the girl? You could try.”

  Josephine looked her with a sense of outrage.

  “I could never do that to you. I wouldn’t want to do it,” there was a sense of disgust on the bottom of her rage, disgust with herself. “I couldn’t cheat you like that. I couldn’t bear for you to wake up in the morning and feel dirty, humiliated, and overpowered against your will.”

  “Is that how you feel in the morning?” there was some sort of compassion on Belva’s face.

  That emotion was too much for Josephine to bear. She sat on her bed and started to cry tears that she pushed back since she entered the room, maybe since forever. She could feel as Belva sat on the edge of the bed to a safe distance.

  “Obviously, I do,” she spoke up finally. “After all these years, I feel like that more and more. There is a sense that I have to fight for every touch I get, that I have to justify every kiss I steal, that every single of my desires must be hidden and denied.”

  Josephine wiped her face and shook her head.

  “I’ll have to think of something else to do with my frivolous life, something real. Those runaways of yours, if you’re in need send some of them to me. I’ll give them shelter, just don’t send them through my passage. I would die of fear if someone would just pop out of there.”

  “Why would you do that?” Belva was frowning now.

  “Don’t worry,” a peal of broken laughter found a way through Josephine’s chest. “I won’t do it for you but for me. Something has to change, I need to change. I will change.”

  When she said those words, Belva moved on the bed closer to her. Josephine looked at her shocked. Belva seemed determinant now. She came even closer.

  “What are you doing?” Josephine whispered. “There’s no need…”

  “Don’t worry,” Belva said seriously. “This you didn’t force out of me, this I’m giving to you freely. No one deserves to be so lonely. Neither you nor I.”

  Belva grabbed her with her healthy hand and pulled her closer.

  “That corset looks like it’ll break in two on you,” she said and pulled the ribbon.

  The corset just fell from Josephine exposing her undergarment. That made Belva laugh joyfully. Then, without a shred of shame, took Josephine’s breast in her hand. She caressed its side and then pushed her fingers in her cleavage. A sudden stroke of skin against skin was too much for Josephine. She cried out and fell to her back.

  Without hesitation, Belva just fell right on top of her.

  “Let’s see that skill of yours,” she said and kissed Josephine.

  Finally, Josephine felt how the constriction in her chest is loosening up. Her hands moved in search of skin, curves and moist.

  All of it lasted until the darkness became thick and palpable.

  “You must go,” Josephine said with trepidation.

  “Not just yet,” she said hoarsely. “Let him wait, he owes me as much,” she laughed then all wild, naked, completely naked without shame or restraint.

  Josephine hugged her and kept caressing her without pressure or hurry.

  In the end, they just lied there embraced in the middle of the crumpled bed skin against skin breathing heavily with their hairs ruffled, their lips red and smiling. Josephine didn’t feel like parting, she felt tears building up inside of her.

  “Shush,” Belva put a finger to her lips. “I’m still here, I’m not going away yet.”

  Belva hugged her then. Josephine pressed her nose against her skin where her neck and shoulder meet keeping one palm over her soft breast. Belva hugged her with her leg and squeezed her near singing low and deep a lullaby of some kind.

  “Stay,” Josephine whispered.

  “You know that I can’t,” she said rubbing her back. “I’m sorry that I can’t.”

  “Thank you,” Josephine bit into her shoulder to relieve her turmoil.

  “Thank you, my beautiful lady,” Belva kept rubbing her back and singing a bit louder threading her lullaby over Josephine’s tired ears.

  Finally, Josephine felt how she’s unknotting letting into the touch and the illusion of safety. She stopped waiting for Belva to disappear and just breathed in the scent of her skin.

  As Belva observed her lady in her armchair with her tea, there was a pressure to say something. It was clear that her lady will say nothing.

  “You look uncomfortable,” Belva said and her lady confirmed.

  The conversation about clothes gave Belva an excuse to observe her lady here in stillness. There was something beautiful in her, in her movements in the position of her neck. Belva rarely had time to appreciate beauty but this seemed like a moment she didn’t want to miss.

  The dress in her hand again served as a distraction. While she worked her mind was calm and serene as the still surface of the water. In that state, she could talk and ask a question without revealing her inner thoughts.

  Her inner thoughts made circles around right and wrong and all rules that preventing her from just reaching out and grab her lady. As time moved forward, those rules which she upheld so tightly once, seemed less and less important.

  What was important was her lady. There was something itching her about her lady’s behaviour. It was just wrong of her to see this defeated, this sad. Belva poked in her courting the young girl just to make her stir, to make her lift up her defiant persona in which Belva met her in the carriage when Belva pressed her pistol to her bosom.

  Her lady refused to cooperate, her tone remained sad and flat, and there was no flare to fight against. Belva was sad and angry at that servant of hers. His behaviour was more than insulting and it seemed that he put out her lady’s flames.

  “Anyway, men break hearts not I,” her lady said and Belva felt anger.

  There was no man whom Belva ever met who could match up to the appeal of her lady, to her fierce nature.

  “Damn it,” her lady sounded miserable and Belva lifted her head to see her distraught and covered in tea.

  “I’m sorry,” Belva said feeling the sympathy rising inside of her.

  She wanted to do something for her lady, anything. That’s why she took the napkin and soaked the wet liquid from her dress as she would to her mistress. Her mind was silly beyond measure. As she tapped her
napkin Belva kept thinking what life that would be, to just stay here and serve her lady, keep her company, keep her safe.

  “My door was shaking last night,” Belva kept the conversation going to chase away her silly thoughts.

  “It wasn’t me…” her lady seemed distressed.

  “I know,” Belva looked at her light green eyes and found her stunningly beautiful. “The girl desperately tried to get in. Why did you refuse her?” Belva just had to know all of a sudden.

  The lady stayed quiet looking like a fox before the hunters shoot their guns. A hunter turned into prey. Was Belva a hunter then?

  “I hope that it wasn’t for me,” Belva pressed on but her lady evaded her looking distressed, seeming hurt.

  “I have a cloak that will go well with the dress,” the lady said like she didn’t already do enough for Belva’s safety.

  “Why are you doing all of this?” Belva took her by the hand but the lady refused her grip.

  “Does it matter and isn’t it obvious,” her lady’s breath was deep and Belva felt the surge of desire to just grab her and kiss her fiercely.

  “But I’m old and not beautiful at all,” Belva was frustrated.

  Why would her lady refuse a young beautiful girl over Belva’s old crumpled face, her broad body, her harsh personality?

  Still, as her lady spoke Belva could feel the passion in her voice, a real emotion, a deep sorrow. Belva herself suddenly felt buried under the pile of regret over all the things she lost, the life she couldn’t lead, all the gentleness that never came her way.

  “Get dressed and go,” said her lady and Belva felt her words as a slap on the face.

  Belva didn’t want to go into the darkness alone knowing that she left her lady in the worse state than she found her in. To imagine her in the state of dismay as she runs in the darkness made her legs feel numb.

  “I’ll leave you to dress up,” the lady said and Belva couldn’t but stop her from leaving, not like this.

  Without thinking about it Belva asked her why hasn’t she at least try to seduce her. It would be an easy task to seduce Belva in her deprived state without anyone to turn to.

  When she heard that Josephine didn’t want to hurt Belva who wielded a pistol at her more than once, that she didn’t want to smear her, Belva felt something breaking inside of her. She wanted to do something for this woman who took her in and healed her without asking anything in return.

  Belva sat on the edge of the bed in which she slept in undisturbed and helplessly watched Josephine cry.

  There were sorrow, pain and honesty in Josephine’s words, Belva could understand that easily. Barracks, whips and torture, separation and despair was the core of slave stories, the ones they would tell her as they travelled up north to safety. Belva felt compassion and anger for them but compared to them, Belva led a life of protection and prosperity, before she ran away from home. Her experience was far removed from theirs.

  Listening to this wealthy protected woman she felt as they have more in common than she would ever expect. Compassion was a human emotion, it was understandable that Belva would felt it for someone that helped her.

  She listened thinking of her departure, of her son, of her path before her, of people who needed her help, she needed to go. The only thing she wished to give before she goes was some comfort but then her lady looked at her and offered help.

  “Those runaways of yours, if you need to send them my way, I’ll give them shelter but not through my passage.”

  When she said that Belva felt her chest cracked open. Her heart suddenly wasn’t her own, her lady held it in her hand without even noticing it beating desperately.

  “Why would you do that?” she whispered hoping that there’s a trap there that it is a planned thing, something to lure Belva in, but her hope was in vain.

  “Not for you,” she said simply. “For me. I have to change, something has to change. I will change.”

  That was the last straw and it broke under Belva’s fingers. She was washed over by a desire to hold her lady, to give her everything she has. Belva wasn’t a shy woman, nor a timid one. Rarely ever she desired anything but when she did there was no hesitation in her mind.

  As the last wall crumbled Belva moved closer to her lady ready to take something from her, to take her warmth to keep her company in many dark nights which were before her feet.

  “What are you doing? You don’t have to,” her lady valiantly resisted still protecting Belva’s chastity as she had any.

  “Don’t worry,” Belva said to her feeling the warmth of her own breath. “This you didn’t force out of me, I give this to you freely. No one deserves to be this lonely, neither you nor I.”

  With that, she pulled her lady to her breasts. With a sense of playfulness, Belva just removed her corset and dived in the beauty that was her lady.

  Belva kissed her not thinking of anything outside of this room, this space, this bed. The lady smelled divine, her skin was soft, she was tasty from every angle and Belva didn’t restrain herself in any way. It was a moment that lasted forever. In Belva’s whole life there was nothing quite like it. The sweetness of her lady was heaven-like.

  Of course, as in any heaven, there were bitter pieces in between, a sour taste of imminent departure but Belva chased it away as long as she could. She wanted to take her lady happy with her on her journey so she hugged her and sang her a lullaby as she was a child.

  Many nights Belva sat under the open sky looking at the stars as she sang this song to children of strangers to keep them from crying in the night to stop guards from finding their shelters.

  The song was more of a riddle, instruction of how to find your way to freedom. Slaves sang it while they worked the cotton fields to keep the memory and information fresh so they could find their way to freedom even if they are forced to separate from their family and friends.

  As she sang it Belva weaved a new stanza of the song. The one which described Josephine and her white house in which those who are tired, injured or just hungry will find shelter.

  When she was done Josephine slept in her arms. She looked happy.

  Quietly, Belva got up without waking her love. She got dressed with care enveloping her aged body into the silver silk her darling gave her. Then she hid her beauty with a cloak and was ready to go and thread some new paths delivering slaves to freedom.

  Her lady will be safe here, she repeated herself that but still her lady was so fragile and exposed in her sleep. There was no one here to protect her from prosecution which could come for her just because of a whisper, because of Belva’s runaway slaves, because of girls like this brat of her guest, because of her rude servant.

  Belva had to go, there was not much of use of her here, but still, she had one gift she could leave to her lady, a vow, something to remind her of Belva, something to assure her that she wasn’t a ghost in her dream.

  That’s why Belva took out her faithful pistol which her son gave her and put it by Josephine’s side.

  She caressed the inscription on the barred.

  ‘Love can’t be wrong,’ suddenly seemed appropriate.

  Then she placed a ghost of a kiss to her cheek and was on her way out back in the world.

  6.1 A White Tile

  Charcoaled House

  When she exited Sue was barely breathing.

  “Did you hear that?” she panted. “My baby interests her.”

  “You’ll have to go,” Tricia helped her down the stairs.

  “I’ll prepare you a bag for your journey, there’s no point in waiting for labour here. In this damn house, who knows what she thought of,” Cynthia was raiding the pantry and filling the bag for Sue to bring with her on her way to the town.

  Sue fell in despair. She’ll surely die on the road if she gets in labour without anyone to help her.

  After everything she went through, Sue had no desire to die. More so, she didn’t want for her child to die.

  “No,” she said to them deciding to
break a rule of Charcoaled House. “There is a secret room where no one will search for me. I’ll show you the door where you can bring me food and news but never ever, can Carol see you use that door. If he does, bad things will happen to you.”

  They looked at her all pale. They looked terrified but fear was good, it kept mind sharp and brought good decisions.

  Sue sat in the dark room in which she first met William and waited. From that room she could see most of the house but no one could see her.

  Even Carol didn’t enter this room if there wasn’t a guest to pass through. Luckily for Sue, the guest wasn’t in the house anymore.

  Sue sat in the dark holding her belly. She might be many things and she might be able to stand the wickedness of this world but that didn’t mean that she would ever trade in her child for security. For nothing in this world would she endanger her child. The baby kicked her side and Sue knew that she wasn’t the same person that was built only of darkness that could stand anything.

  There was light growing inside of her and she was willing to do anything to protect its light.

  When the bell rang, Carol hurried to the door hoping that the fruits of his mistress’ traps gave fruition.

  Instead of an angry and beautiful madam Luanne, there were grim patrolmen.

  Carol stepped aside and let them in.

  Usually, the men from the law weren’t interested in his mistress. Her business was of private nature and no one wanted to pry into wealthy houses searching for sin.

  Still, the patrolmen were there led by a Federal Marshal.

  Carol had never seen a Federal Marshal up close.

  This one was tall, with broad shoulders and frightening. He looked like he could crush them all and laugh while doing so.

  There was a strange glee in his eyes.

  “Take me to your mistress,” the Marshal said to Carol.

  Carol remembered how he failed to protect his mistress in the carriage and how distrustful she was towards him ever since.

  “I don’t have a key,” he said lifting his chin.

  There was nothing they had on him. He and his house were to be respected.