by S. A. Glenn
“Morning, ma’am.” He pulled up a chair, took the grits from her, and sipped the hot brew. “Forgot to set the darned alarm.” He stabbed two pieces of bacon with his fork and placed them onto his plate.
Katherine served him a helping of scrambled eggs along with two flapjacks. After taking a drink of orange juice and wiping her mouth, she leaned toward him. “What planet were you on this morning?” she asked.
He poured sirup over his small stack with lots of butter. “I was dreamin’ ’bout me being a knight, ’bout me fighting an evil man—Oh! And I was gonna be the king, and you were my queen, Kat… and you was naked, too!”
Sara sat down her fork with the last bite of flapjacks stuck to it. “Okay! Here we go again with things I don’t need to hear.” She shook her head and hurried her dishes to the sink then exited the kitchen.
Katherine laughed at Samuel’s statement and the reaction it caused. “And what was I doing being naked?”
“You was bathin’ under a waterfall, then you laid over a big, smooth rock with a flower in your hair—at least I think it was you—I called her beloved woman.” He pondered for a second. “Yeah… it was you.”
She swatted his arm. “It better have been… I don’t want to catch you dreaming of other ladies now.”
His face grew solemn. “There’s only you, Kat. I think about you all the time. There are so many things I wanna share with you, but I fear the worst—I don’t wanna lose you. You mean everything to me. If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do. I…” He stopped himself from saying I love you, worried he’d be going too far.
She took his hand and gave him a soft smile. “Why would you ever lose me, Sam? You can trust me with anything. The only way I would ever leave your side, is if you told me to. You are very special to me. Never doubt my words or feelings for you, Sam. Okay?”
“Okay, Kat. I won’t…” He smiled as he leaned in toward her with a touch of tenderness to her accepting lips.
“Oh my stars!” Sara exclaimed, walking in on them. “You two are still at it!” She returned back out to the dining area before the swinging door closed.
Katherine and Samuel stopped their embracement, laughed at her comment, then spent a moment gazing into one another’s eyes.
Katherine stood. “You best be moving on.” She grabbed a sack and handed it to him. “I made lunch for you: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Mother said you like my jelly.”
“Perfect, my queen.” He took one last bite of breakfast. Sipping a final swallow of coffee he stood and bowed.
“Until tonight, my King,” she replied with a curtsy.
CHAPTER 14
During lunch at the sawmill, Samuel and Jacob Reynolds sat under the maple tree on the old dried-up log. A slight drizzle made its way down as dark, troubling clouds drew near.
Samuel bit into his second sandwich, chewed, swallowed and remembered not to talk with his mouth full. “I’m in love with Katherine,” he jutted out.
Jacob choked on the water he had just swallowed. “Don’t hold back now, Samuel. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Come on, J.R., I’m serious! I almost told her this morning how I felt, but she started talkin’ my ear off ’bout how she feels. About how the only way she’d ever leave me is if I told her to, and about how special I am to her.”
“Sounds like a horrible problem’s developing, Sam.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“I’m kidding. It’s not horrible or a problem. It’s…”
“. . . It’s what?”
“It’s sounding like she’s in love with you, too!”
“What makes you say that?”
“Come on, Sam. Put two and two together: all the time you two spend with each other, and the places you go—even that Gypsy saw it. And remember how she cried when that guy Nathan—you, in your past life, died?”
“That stuffs not real!” Samuel declared as he rubbed his chest.
“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s not… but her crying was. Don’t fret, my friend. Tell her how you feel! I bet my life on it, she’ll tell you the same.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah! Tell you what you should do. This Sunday is The Fourth of July. Take her down to the lake, make camp for the night. Find a spot where the reflection of the fireworks casts off the water. If my calculations are right, it will be a moonless sky for the display; but around midnight, the moon should come up—it’ll be full. Whaddya think?”
“By jove! I think you got one heck of a plan, J.R.!”
“Good! Now quit your belly achin’. Finish that fine lunch Kat fixed for you.”
Samuel returned home, ran upstairs to speak to Katherine, but she wasn’t in her room. He hurried down the stairs, skipping every other step. Dashing over to the swinging door, he stood quiet, his heart pounding. As he inched the door open to peek in for Katherine, Sara pushed her way in, slamming the solid oak door against his forehead. She squealed, dropping her tray full of dishes. They crashed onto the wooden floor, breaking into many pieces; a mental lid slowly settled then accelerated, growing higher in pitch till it came to a complete stop. Stillness filled the atmosphere as the customers gawked.
Sara whisked over to Samuel and placed her hand onto his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she asked, leading him by his arm to a chair. “Sit, let me look at it!”
“It’s okay, ma’am,” he assured her, removing his hand from above his eyes. “But it sure smarts!”
“What the devil were you doing so close to the door?” She examined the growing lump on his noggin.
“Ouch!” he uttered as she touched the aching spot. “I was lookin’ for Katherine, didn’t wanna disturb the guests with my foul presence.”
“She’s not here, she’s over at the saloon.”
“The saloon? Whatever for?”
“She didn’t say. But what I do know is that you need some cool water on that bump. I’ll be with you in a second,” she said as she poured water into a bowl.
“Sorry ’bout your fine china. Let me take care of the mess.”
“No, Samuel! You need to relax. I’ll take care of it. And the china’s cheap, I’ve got lots more, don’t worry.”
“If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll wash up real quick like, then head upstairs to rest a bit. My head’s throbbin’! And will you send Katherine up when she gets home?”
“Of course, Samuel. I’ll take the water and a rag up to your room.”
“Much obliged.”
After he cleaned up he headed to his bed to lie down. Dabbing the cloth into the cool water he applied it to his pounding headache. As he lay there, he debated about why he believed Katherine was at the saloon. He figured she was there to buy a bottle of red wine. He hoped she’d get a good year, but he trusted the man behind the counter would assure that. As he continued to peer over at his clock, he grew less enthusiastic about his conclusion and decided it must be more than that. He guessed she must be testing the flavor of the wine, and since she gets tipsy so easily, she must’ve forgotten the time.
His impatience with her delinquency had him making up his mind to scold her mildly when she returned. But the time kept passing. It was nine o’clock, and she had not reported to him. His mind ran wild about her being touched by uncaring men who only wanted to fulfill their lustful desires, leaving her as though she were a common whore. “How dare they take advantage of her drunken state?” he shouted, growing evermore bitter at his fabricated vision. Dizzy and enraged at what he had thought was going on, he rushed up out of bed, placed the good hat upon his head, zipped down the steps and out the back door, stomping over to the saloon.
As he closed in on the public house, he began a low, confused ramble, gritting his teeth while clenching his fists. “When I get my hands on them no-good scallywags, I’m gonna tear ’e
m limb from limb. And if them devils gang up on me, I’ll take the nearest bottle, bust it up and cut ’em real good!” He tromped up the four redwood steps lit up by the partial full moon. Storming across the porch, he thrust himself through the bat wing doors, and stopped on the other side with eyes of fury, doors swaying behind him.
Lots of commotion within the barroom kept most of the frequent drinkers from noticing his blunt entrance. A few onlookers took swigs of their beer as they gazed upon him, seizing a sense of a potential threat. They turned toward one another and leaned in as they whispered.
Staring fiercely as he scanned the establishment, Samuel passed over the crowd, not spotting Katherine. Searching back over the place, he pinpointed the back corner area, hearing piano music. A couple of merry men sloshing their mugs of beer around, moved out of the way, exposing Katherine’s location. She was occupying the bench with an older man at her side, laughing with him, carrying on with a short song with a catchy repetition. At the end of the jingle the bystanders applauded, expecting an encore. Katherine draped her arms around the gent, giving him a big kiss on his check—they pounded on the keys, starting a new tune. Samuel’s heart dropped in complete dismay by what he saw. He was no longer enraged, but delirious with jealousy. Wallowing in naiveté, he believed it was she who was engaging in whorish activities. He strolled over to her, all images became increasingly blurry. With almost no strength, and the urge to go to sleep, the room began to spin as he stood behind Katherine, reaching for her arm, trying to keep from falling down. “How could you do this to me? Don’t I mean nothin’ to you?” he asked.
She and her counterpart halted their lively music. Katherine turned toward Samuel. She was not expressing happiness, only fear and pain upon her face. “Samuel!” she exclaimed with shock. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let me go!”
But he wouldn’t release her as he stood there staring at her, blinking his eyes abundantly, weaving back and forth. The man sitting next to Katherine stood and pried Samuel’s fingers off her delicate arm that was purplish-red, having white finger marks remaining on it. With his complexion turning pasty, Samuel shifted his feeble concentration toward the ceiling as he dropped to the floor, motionless.
“Samuel… Samuel… Samuel,” Katherine repeated, gazing down into his fluttering eyes. “Can you hear me?”
“What happened? Where am I?” he insisted in confusion, ready to vomit.
“You’re in your room on your bed. This gentleman here…” she pointed, “was sitting next to me at the saloon. He carried you here. He is a friend of Mother’s and mine. He used to be our doctor, but he moved away. He’s here in town for a visit. Mother told us about your injury.”
Not as befuddled as before but still unsure of some things, Samuel looked upon the man with embarrassment. He noticed his white shirt with its rolled-up sleeves, and his bifocals hanging to the tip of his nose. The man with his sophisticated demeanor and charming smile poured a dipperful of fresh water into a basin next to the bed. Katherine soaked a clean cloth in it, wrung it out then blotted Samuel’s feverish face.
“You have a concussion, Samuel,” said the doctor. “You need to stay awake for awhile, till the bump subsides—about twelve hours. Relax during that time. No work tomorrow. Keep a cool rag on that; I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“I will stay and take care of you until you’re better,” said Katherine, taking Samuel by the hand.
“Thanks, Kat. And thank you too, sir. Sorry to both of you for the way I acted. I don’t know what came over me,” he admitted, looking ashamed.
“My name’s Upton Quincy,” the doctor said, offering his hand. “And about the episode—you were delirious. I don’t hold that against you.”
“Nor will I, Sam,” Katherine said, kissing Samuel’s cheek.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” Sara said, tugging at Dr. Quincy’s shirt. “You’re in good hands with Kat, Samuel. Do as she asks.”
“Yes, ma’am… I will.”
Katherine watched them leave then focused upon Samuel with uneasy eyes as she rubbed her tender arm. “Were you jealous of him? Don’t be! Of course you mean something to me.”
“Why did you say ‘of course you mean something to me’? And why’re you massagin’ your arm?”
“That’s the last thing you said to me while you squeezed it. Don’t you remember that stuff before you passed out?”
“I think I do, but I didn’t realize I hurt you—oh my god, Kat! What have I done to you?! Do I black out then harm people? What if I’ve done this before? NO! NO! NO!” he uttered, wagging his head.
“Samuel! Calm down! It’s okay. I’m okay. You are not out to hurt people.”
“But you don’t understand, Kat!” he raised his voice, thinking of Tommy Smith, his stepfather, and Hermon Snodgrass, then about his dream about cutting off a man’s head.
“Samuel, what’s going on in your head? Do not get yourself worked up. You still have a concussion, and you are acting hysterically. Please, Samuel, relax and let yourself heal!” She tried to hold him still.
“Oh, God! NO! NO! NO!” he muttered. “Just let me go to sleep, Kat. I’m so tired!”
“No, Samuel! You must stay awake! What must I do to get you to listen to me and get this nonsense out of your head about you hurting people without knowing it? It’s absurd, Sam. Do you hear me?” she demanded.
“Kat, I’m so confused!” His eyes filled with tears as he peered into her kind eyes. “I don’t know what kind of monster I might be. I have to tell you… but I’m terrified! Please, Katherine, help me!”
“I’m here for you Samuel. Please, don’t worry yourself. We’ll talk about it in the morning. In the meantime, rest while I read to you. Occupy your thoughts with my voice; no more condemning yourself, okay?”
“Okay, Kat. I give in. I’m too tuckered out to think no more.”
She wiped off the salty liquid from below his cheekbone with her thumb, pursed her lips, and kissed his mouth. “Samuel, my dear. Please, stop the sad face; you’re gonna make me cry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a brave smile.
She walked over to a piece of furniture with shelves, got down onto her knees, sat upon her heels and searched through many old books, reading their titles and placing them back into place. Stopping at a particular one, she arose with it then sat on the bed next to Samuel. “I forgot all about this book Mother gave me when I was twelve,” she explained, flipping through its pages
“What is it, Kat?”
“Macbeth, by William Shakespeare.”
“Who’s she… and he?”
“Macbeth is a ‘he’. And William Shakespeare was an English playwright and poet.”
“Maybe we could go see Mr. Shakespeare someday, if you want.”
“I don’t believe he looks well, Sam,” she chuckled.
“You mean he looks worse than me right now?” he asked, pushing some humor.
“I should hope so! He’s been dead for 250 years.” She fluffed up the pillow next to him and placed it behind her back. With her legs lounging upon his bed, she became comfortable. She opened her childhood book, cleared her throat, and began reading her favorite play:
“Act 1: Scene 1: Thunder and lightning. Enter three witches,” she said to Samuel, and then continued.
“FIRST WITCH
‘When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?’
SECOND WITCH
‘When the hurly-burly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.’”
“What’s hurly-burly?” he asked.
“It means commotion,” she answered then continued.
“THIRD WITCH
‘That will be ere the set of sun.’”
“What’s ’ere’ mean?”
�
��Before,” she answered, starting once again.
“FIRST WITCH
‘Upon the heath.’
THIRD WITCH
‘I come, Graymalkin.’”
“What kinda name’s that?” he asked, trying to comprehend the play.
“Graymalkin is the name of the first witches’ ‘familiar’: an attendant spirit serving her in the form of her cat,” she answered with patience.
“Oh!” he threw out, not sure what she meant.
Katherine continued.
“SECOND WITCH
‘Paddock calls.’
THIRD WITCH
‘Anon.’”
“What’s ‘anon’?” he asked, desperately wanting to grasp the play.
“It means immediately.”
“Immediately—got it!”
She resumed.
“ALL.
‘Fair is foul, and foul is fair,
Hover through the fog and filthy air.’
They exit.”
Katherine turned the page, continuing along. Samuel listened with devotion through the entire play, asking many questions. Though he was very attentive, he really hadn’t much of a clue as to what transpired. He felt like a genuine lout not being able to get the meaning of things that Katherine was able to comprehend.
“Sorry, Kat, but I don’t much get all that ‘smart people’ stuff. I reckon you done wasted your time readin’ that to me.”
“Sam! You are not a waste of my time. And as for William Shakespeare and his works, it takes lots of explaining to understand his language and concepts. I studied a lot and took many exams to get to where I could appreciate his expressions. Do not worry yourself.”
“Thanks Kat, that makes me feel better.”
“Speaking of feeling better,” she said, fluffing his pillow then holding the cool rag to his forehead, “how are you doing?”