“Don’t ever speak for my wife. What she can do is no concern of yours. Like I said, you can go with them but we are pushing on. I saw the way they were looking at your wife and daughter. I doubt if you make it to Florida with them.”
I’m tired and weak. I don’t want to go on but I will. Jude surprises me when he ties my horse to his saddle and boosts me up onto his side saddle. The big stallion doesn’t flinch when he swings up behind me. I’m scandalized. When he pulls me against him, I am grateful.
“Sleep. I’ve got you.”
We ride for hours nonstop. We ride through rivers and over rocks to cover our tracks. We don’t pause again until we find shelter. It comes in the form of an abandoned boat warehouse that has been stripped of anything of value but it’s dry and vacant. The doors lock and the water runs. The horses are brought in and stabled in the receiving bay and after a look around, Jude and I lock ourselves in the owner’s office. There is a pullout bed in here and a two-piece washroom. I watch as he pulls it out for us. The white sheets are clean and two pillows were folded up in it. I want to wash before I lay down. I am so tired that I’m barely standing. Jude removes my boots before turning me and unzipping my dress. I step out of it and he removes my tights. They have holes in them but it’s better than nothing. He leaves my slip.
“Lay down.”
“I should wash first.”
“Duma, forget that. You’re tired and hungry. Lay down and rest. I’m going to help lock this place down and set a watch on the roof. Don’t open this door for anyone but me.”
I do as he says and I lay down with a heavy sigh. Jude pulls the blanket up over me before kissing my scarred cheek. Hurry back, I want to say. I want you to hold me.
“I won’t be far.” He sees the yearning in my eyes. “I love you.”
When he’s gone, I have a hard time falling asleep. My eyes weigh a ton and my body weighs two but this strange place is too strange. It’s too quiet. I can’t hear anything outside of this room. How will I know if there’s trouble? The candle Jude lit casts shadows on the office walls. Whose office was this? How did they die? Are they coming back? It feels like hours before there’s a knock on the door.
“Sweetheart, it’s me.”
I sprint across the room to open the door for him. I hug him in the doorway. I don’t care if it is forward or if I am wearing my slip. I don’t care if I get the cane. Jude backs me into the office closing the door with one hand. His arms come around me and his lips devour mine in a hungry kiss. My fingers are shaky and hesitant when I lift the hem of his shirt. My heart is beating hard. I want to put my hand inside his pants and touch the warm, thick, flesh. What am I doing? I’m not supposed to have these thoughts. I shouldn’t want to touch him down there. I shouldn’t want to kiss and lick his skin the way he does mine. I shouldn’t want to taste him. I stop at the buttons. I can’t undress him.
“Undress me, Duma.” He snaps at me. “Save the shy shit for Sunday service. Take off all of my clothes and touch me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I won’t tell a soul, Sweetheart. We are married. Touch me everywhere you want to touch me. I demand it.”
Sometimes, I feel like he can read my mind we are so in tune with one another. Jude knows it’s wrong to the church and he doesn’t care. He is corrupted and worldly. He is no Saint. He ordered me to take his clothes off. I start with his boots. I take my time and fold his things as I go along. He is so handsome and warm that my hands are shaking. Jude has his share of scars here and there. They are from fighting town boys and doing other unacceptable things. He hasn’t had to work hard or be punished like me. No one would dare raise a hand to the good Reverend’s son except the good Reverend himself or an outsider and maybe Titus. They fight from time to time to see who’s stronger. When Judea is standing before me naked, I stare at him with teary eyes. He could be anywhere right now with any woman in the church and he is here with me. He could be locked safely behind his walls back home but he chose to follow me on a mission that could end in his death.
“Dumani, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“You are so good to me, Judea.” I whisper. “You are so beautiful.”
I am the sister at the end of the pretty line. Even now when most of them are dead, I am still at the end of the line. When Jude looks at me, it’s not with pity or shame. I feel pretty when I see myself in his eyes. Like now. I feel so blessed and so grateful to have him.
“You are the kindest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I know. I don’t care what you think or other people think. You are my wife. My wife will always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Don’t cry.”
“I’m ugly. I was ugly before that man cut my face and you know it. You love me. You would never say anything to hurt my feelings. You don’t have to. I was raised in a house full of pretty girls. Look at you, Judea. I’m sad because you are so perfect and I wish I could be pretty for you. I’m sad because you are stuck introducing me as your wife.”
“Jesus Christ, Dumani. Hearing my wife say that about herself breaks my heart. You were never ugly. I don’t say it because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I say it because it’s true. You are pretty enough for me.”
I reach up and wipe his tears with my hand. He wipes mine with his.
“Sweetheart, you are amazing. You loved me before I knew what love was and the one I gave my heart to when I learned.”
“Will I always be like this, Judea?”
“I don’t know. I can’t lie and say one day you are going wake up and be the person of your dreams. You might be you forever and I don’t care.”
“It upsets you when I say things and I don’t want to make you cry anymore.”
“Why wouldn’t you call yourself ugly and put yourself down? It’s what you grew up hearing. After a while, you started believing it. After years, you know it as fact. If no one ever called you ugly when you were a little girl, you wouldn’t think it today. People are mean and nasty, Duma. They put you down to lift themselves up. I don’t care what they say and neither should you. You are a wonderful wife to me and you will be a wonderful mother to our child. I’m proud of you and proud to have you as my wife. I mean it. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else.”
“Oh, Judea.” I sob hugging him around his waist. He cradles my head to his chest and rubs my back. His fingers trace my scar.
“I wish that bastard had cut me instead of you. I wish I could take your hurt, your doubts, and this scar away if it would make you happy. I love you. I will always love you. I don’t want you to hate yourself, Dumani.”
He’s so sad. He sounds heartbroken. Why am I like this? Why can’t I love myself the way he loves me? As I am.
“In time, it will get better. Now that you are with me, you will be treated with the reverence you deserve. I should’ve told you when I liked your dress and when I thought you looked pretty. I should have stolen kisses and told you how I felt about you. I didn’t and I’m sorry.”
“You thought I looked pretty?” I’m stuck on that part.
“All of the time. Remember the night we went to watch the baseball game from the top of the hill?”
“You went to meet three girls at a baseball game after church.”
“Whatever. Anyway, you were wearing a new gray dress. It wasn’t like your other gray dresses. It had pleats around it that made your waist look small and your ass look rounder than usual. I couldn’t stop watching you and luckily for me, you were always moving around.”
I blush with pleasure. I remember that dress. I worked on it for weeks.
“That dress had the men in church cutting their eyes at you. I covered my hard on with a hymn book. That was one of the days I considered taking you. I thought about walking you to the lake alone and taking that dress off you.”
“My mother never let me wear it again.”
“I told her it was too forward.”
“Judea, she burned it.” I’m upset all over again.
&n
bsp; “Good.” He kisses my scar. “God isn’t going to fix your face, Dumani. You will accept it as a part of yourself and move on. You were almost killed fighting off a grown man. I came on this trip to save you but it is you who has been saving me.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Judea. I will stand between a knife, a gun, a man, whatever tries to harm you. All I ever wanted was you. Now that we are together, all I want to do is please you.”
“You always went out of your way to please me. You brought me the coldest drinks and the best cuts of meat. You served me the biggest piece of cake and the corner pieces of your delicious peach cobbler. You did those things for as long as I can remember. All you ever wanted to do was please me. When I was old enough to understand, I realized I would never find another woman who loves me like you do. That’s the woman I fell in love with. A perfect face fades, Duma, a pretty heart never will.”
“I love you so much.” I whisper.
I am so lost in him that I want to be as close to him as I possibly can. I touch him with my bare hands. I run my hands over his strong back. I memorize every muscle, every inch of spine, and squeeze his shoulders like breasts. Oh, my. I back away from him to feel his chest. Judea is statue still. His lungs are barely rising and falling. No one makes me feel more alive. His heart is pounding erratically under my hand. I can’t look him in the eye right now. If I do, I won’t have the nerve to press my lips against his heart, like this. My eyes close and I hold my lips on this pounding spot. Hmm, he smells so good. I kiss his heart and move my kisses elsewhere. His part that I should not mention is rock hard and pressing against my belly. It wants to be inside of me. It wants to press against the warm, tight, hole between my legs until it gives and lets him in. It wants to push deeper and deeper inside of me until it can’t go any farther. I wrap my hand around it. His eyes widen.
“Fuck.” He swears. I let go. “No, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Judea puts my hands back where they were. Both sets are wrapped around him right now. His over mine. He moves in our fingers. “Touch me, Dumani. Touch my dick.”
He removes his hands so I can touch him alone. My fingers don’t touch my thumb on the other side. It’s bigger than my fingers are big around. I’ve never held one in my hand like this. It’s warm and thick with veins straining against the silky skin. The tip is round and smooth like a plum. I finger the wet hole at the tip and watch as a dewy drop oozes out of him. Then another. I don’t dare look up. If I look up at him right now, it will kill the curiosity that makes me catch the clear drop on the tip of my finger. It looks like rain. Or a tear. It tastes sweet when I bring my fingertip to my mouth. He swears again. I kneel in front of him and I lick the little hole with the tip of my tongue. Judea makes a noise I’ve never heard before. He wraps my braids around his hands like rope. He wants me to kiss it. I don’t know what to do so I lick it like candy. I lick all around the tip like an ice cream cone. When he nudges at my full, soft, lips, I part them for him. I don’t know if this is something everyone else does or if it’s an abomination, but, damn it feels good. My common sense tells me to watch my teeth so that I don’t break his paper-thin skin as it slides in and out of my mouth at his will. He’s moving his hips faster and faster. His grip on my braids tightens.
“Dumani.”
When I feel his release in my mouth, I swallow it. I try to swallow him too.
“Stop sucking.” He begs pulling himself out of my mouth.
Did I do something wrong? He holds on to the back of the chair instead of holding on to me. I shouldn’t have done that. What was I thinking? I turn my back to him and I curse myself. I’m a Jezebel. I should be tossed in the box. I should speak with an elder and take my caning if it will purge me of my wanton ways.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head no.
“Why are you apologizing? Why are you crying?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m a whore.”
“Dumani.” It is a purr in my ear when he holds me from behind. I relax against him. His hands cup my breasts and his lips kiss my shoulder.
“What we do in the privacy of our bedroom is no one’s business. We love and serve the best way we can. In my life and in our bedroom, you come first.”
“Blasphemy.” I gasp.
“You mean everything to me, Dumani. You are not a whore. I would never marry a whore. I hold nothing or no one above you and I will go to hell for it. What you did to me with your mouth was beautiful. I loved it and I want you to do it again whenever you want to. Did you like it?”
“Yes.” I blush.
“Never be ashamed to tell me when you want me to make love to you. It’s a husbandly duty that I will gladly take care of every chance I get.”
“Are we Christians now?” I’m horrified. They are nothing like us. They call us a cult.
“Of course, not. Are you crazy? We’re a married couple in love. I enjoy pleasuring you. God would want us to make each other feel good. No woman has ever made me feel the way you do, Duma. I used to masturbate thinking about what it would feel like to put my cock between your pretty lips. It’s better than I imagined.”
“Judea.”
He shouldn’t be speaking to me this way. Even though I sucked it, he shouldn’t be talking about it. Not even if I enjoyed it as much as I did.
“It’s true. Every time I look at you, I feel lovesick inside. It doesn’t matter if your face is covered or if I am looking at you from the left or the right. I feel a love so deep that I will die for it.”
His hands move down my belly to cup my sex. I’m wet from sucking him. I want him inside me so badly. I’ll be his bad girl if he wants me to be. I will forfeit my soul to hell forever to feel like this for another day. I reach up and wrap my arm around his neck and kiss him from the side as he grinds against my bottom. The head is probing my wet hole from behind as his fingers rub me from the front. He pushes into my throbbing center. One hand squeezes my breast, the other rubs my sensitive pink bud as he slowly strokes in and out of me.
“We can do it however we want. From the front or the back. I’m just getting started.”
I push back against him. Jude quickens his strokes and deepens his thrusts. I cry out in the small room. I spread my legs wider and he bends me over face down. My wobbly knees and blind screaming are warnings before my world burst into rainbows and cotton candy clouds. He cries my name and his frenzied thrust have no reason. Only a mission. A mission that he accomplishes with a roar and throbbing, victorious, bursts. I’m still watching a unicorn gallop past when he turns me around and backs me onto the bed. Judea falls between my thighs lifting my legs up around his hips. He sticks his tongue in my mouth and he penetrates me again. He pins my hands over my head and he takes. I have no say in this. I am laying here unable to move or participate. All I can do is lie here and take every delicious inch of him as he releases the pent-up feelings and emotions that he feels for me into my body. I moan his name against his lips and welcome them. I let his emotions feed the hunger that I have for every part of him.
“I love you so much, Dumani.” He says into my neck as his hips continue to roll and grind between my thighs.
I love him too. I love this. I am proud to be his wife and honored to be carrying his child. I will deliver him a healthy child no matter what and I will get them home safely. Judea makes love to me like we aren’t on the road. Like we aren’t in a strange bed. He makes love to me like I am the last woman on earth. Not because it isn’t close to true, but because he wants to. He holds me afterward and strokes my hair until I fall asleep. Only then, can he worry and shed tears of frustration. He didn’t dare sleep. Not with bad people out there looking for people like us. Not with a wife and child to think about.
Chapter Sixteen
I wake up the moment he lets me go. He’s pulling on his pants to answer the soft tapping on the door. I pull the blanket up over my chin and reach for the pistol under my pillow. Judea ans
wers the door shirtless holding his gun behind his back with the safety off. His dark hair hangs past his shoulders and swings when he moves his head. My heart flutters. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel hot. He cracks the door an inch.
“Something spooked the horses and someone is knocking on the bay door. Those cock-sucking assholes had a lantern on the roof. It was like a Goddamn beacon for crying out loud.”
“You watch how you speak around my wife, Shadrach. I’ll be down in two minutes.”
“Don’t forget where you got her, boy.”
My father walks away and Jude closes the door. He retrieves his discarded shirt pulling it on over his head. He puts on his socks and boots again after just taking them off.
“You’re tired, Judea.” My heart breaks for him. He’s always needed and always expected to fix whatever is wrong. Now, he has a pregnant wife on top of everything else.
“I’ll sleep for a week when we are back home in our bed.” He kisses my forehead.
“Should I come with you in case—”
“No. You stay here with a gun in your lap and your ears open. If there is any sign of trouble, get out and head west. I will follow you. Don’t risk yourself or my child trying to rescue me. I can take care of myself.”
“Please, be careful.”
“I’ll come back and tell you what’s going on as soon as I know. Get dressed and be ready to run, just in case.”
He kisses me and sticks one pistol into the front of his pants and one down the back. He holds the shotgun in both hands. He kisses me once more before he slips out of the office and I lock the door. I have a bad feeling about this. I have a really, bad, feeling about this. I strap my knife to my thigh under my dress and holster both of my pistols after making sure they are fully loaded. I close our bags and swing my pack onto my back in case I need my hands free. I swath a dark green scarf around my face. I hold Judea’s good rifle across my lap like a favored cat and I wait for word. When he returns, he is pounding on the door and he isn’t alone.
The Doomsday Papers Page 16