She smiled, moving to tickle him. Judas yelped, and they both fell to the grass. Judas was giggling, pleading for her to stop. He began to tickle her in return.
“You talk like Father sometimes,” he said, “but without all the anger and spittle. You talk like...poetry.”
He wouldn’t stop tickling her.
“No!” she cried, her laughter uncontrollable.
They lay still in the grass, reaching to hold hands.
“How can I be beautiful?” Judas asked. “Only girls can be ‘beautiful.’”
“Boys can,” she assured him, “and you are.”
Judas blushed at his sister’s observation. “No,” he could not look at her, “you are the one...the one who is—”
She whispered, “You are an angel, God’s angel.”
And softer, “Give us a little kiss, angel.”
Judas was nervous, as he always was when she wanted to be close. But he kissed her, quickly on the lips.
“Now give us another,” she said.
And he did.
* * *
They did not return to the house until late, the sun almost down. Evangeline was not concerned but fear made Judas tremble. He knew what was waiting for them when they got to the home of the Reverend—the Reverend who was waiting and, as Judas expected, quite angry. The eldest Payne’s face was red with disapproval and rancor. He looked at them both, only quickly, and distastefully; then at Evangeline, without the previous aversion.
“Where were you, young woman?”
She said happily, “Just taking in the first glorious hours of God’s Springtime, Father.”
“I told you about staying away long, girl. You cause me to worry—”
He glared at Judas, eyes piercing like arrows into soft wood. “Boy, this is your fault— ”
“It wasn’t any of his fault, Father,” Evangeline said quickly, moving away from Judas and going to her father: she was the barrier between the animosity. “Don’t start on him,” she said, more a statement than a request.
She sounds more and more like her mother, the Reverend thought.
Judas held his breath.
Reverend Payne turned away. “Get yourself in the house and get supper ready,” and with a wave in Judas’s direction: “you get yourself into your barn, boy.”
With that, the Reverend walked away.
Judas let out his breath, thankful the confrontation didn’t go the way of the Reverend striking him with a large hand, as this man whom he knew as his father was often prone to do. Evangeline turned at him, eyes large and wet; she nodded and then went inside as told.
Judas had never been allowed into the house. The only times he’d been in there was when he could sneak inside as the Reverend was away, doing what he did at the church. Evangeline would let her half-brother in. Other than that, the house was forbidden territory; Judas was not even allowed to have dinner with his family.
He ate what scraps were allotted to him.
In the barn, there was a worn old cot in the far corner. Judas liked to think that some brave Union solider once used the cot to sleep on during the war. There was a book under the cot, one of the many Evangeline would bring to him from time to time. Wrapped in the blanket was a slightly stale piece of bread. Judas’ stomach ached; this would have to do for now. He nibbled at the bread, then opened the book. He squinted as he read. The sunlight would be gone soon, and he needed to conserve the oil in the lamp.
He lay down on the cot, read some, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
THE DEVIL came to him during his dreams. He did not know who THE DEVIL really was—Judas would meet up with a white, red-eyed albino rabbit, a very big rabbit, and the rabbit would tell him: “Love your sister, do as I say.”
“I do love her,” he’d tell the rabbit, “I always will.”
A few hours later, he opened his eyes. Evangeline, in a thick white bedding gown, came in. Her golden hair was pulled back, tied with a blue ribbon. She had a plate with her: meat, vegetables, some beans.
After Reverend Payne went to sleep each night, Evangeline would secretly bring her brother a proper dinner.
Without her, he knew, he would surely be dead now; if not sickly, dumb, and weak.
* * *
Judas would read to her. Evangeline liked to hear his voice saying all the pretty words in the books. His sister had taught him how to read, and he read quite well, improving with each year. His voice was unquestionably resplendent, and could make angels weep—this she was sure of. His voice would make her cry, at times, especially when he read something that was particularly sad (one that would always remain in her mind was Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, a book she’d heard was taboo, but never forbidden by her father, who had no interest in books other than The Holy Bible). Most of the books were a legacy left by their mother, a woman she did not remember; killed, her father claimed, “by that demon child, your brother.” Never did she believe Judas was an intentional cause of her mother’s death; she’d passed away giving birth to him, yes, but so did many other women these days.
Knowing that, Evangeline Payne had no desire to ever have children.
“You’re just sixteen,” her brother told her one evening when she informed him of her opinion on the matter, “one day you will want a child.”
“Only if it can be your child,” Evangeline said, acting like this was a joke, but inside her heart, she was telling the truth.
Each day, over the years, as the two became teenagers, his ability to read to her improved, and he was quite excellent, much better than she; in fact, he read more than she did, staying up many nights with the books, the lantern in the barn. When the books in the house had been depleted, re-read and re-reread, Evangeline began to borrow books from the small Tyburn Library, or purchase what she could get her hands on, when she had change to spare, and without her father’s knowledge and inevitable judgment. Judas devoured anything his sister brought him, whether it was fiction or poetry, historical texts, monographs, the drama of Shakespeare, the philosophy of Plato, or adventure stories of the Civil War and gunfighters of the West.
Although referred to, by his father, as a heathen, a beast, a non-human, and a devil, Judas Payne, absorbing the literature, was obviously not as lacking in intelligence as the Reverend claimed. It’s without surprise that in his early teen years, he began to question his father’s seeming distaste, in fact hatred, for him, and his position in this so-called “family.” Judas was well aware of the marked difference of his skin color compared to his sister’s, or even his own father’s, and the photos he’d seen of Katherine Payne—she was fair of skin like his sister.
And there was also his unique green eyes...
“He only wants me here to do work,” he told his sister once. “I am like a slave.”
“That is not true,” Evangeline said.
“I’ve lived all my life in this barn. Why? Why don’t I have a room in the house like you?”
“Father is very mysterious,” Evangeline said. “As are all men of God.”
“I don’t believe I am his son,” Judas said.
“Of course you are. We have the same mother.”
“We are different.”
“You are different because you are an angel sent to earth,” his sister told him, touching his face lightly with her fingernails. He closed his eyes. “You left God’s bosom to come here, you have a mission, I know this in my heart,” she told him, her lips at his ears, and then at his own lips.
His sister had always looked upon the world with such simplicity, and Judas wanted to protect that innocence. The more he read, the more cynical and bleak he became. One day darkness would fall, he felt this in his bones, to his very young core.
He didn’t, however, know how close that day actually was.
* * *
It’s hard to say whether or not Evangeline Payne was truly aware of the forbidden nature of her feelings for her brother. Naiveté has its blindness, and Evangeline looked upon e
very thing, every person, with the love of God, and the ignorance of the world.
She did know that her father would vehemently disapprove of the special relationship she had with her brother, and her brother knew this even more; so they took precautions to keep their time together a secret from the pious Reverend.
It’s also hard to say whether or not young Judas Payne was truly aware of the forbidden nature of his feelings for his halfsister. He wasn’t a young man of the world, after all; and in fact knew very little of the world, except for what he read.
There was no doubt about his feelings, in his mind and heart, the night he had the dazzling dream about her.
It was phenomenal, yes, but also very frightening.
In his dream, they were in a garden, a garden so perfect and wonderful that it was beyond his description, even to himself. Lush trees and plants, fruit everywhere, rivers and lakes, happy animals running about in glee, without fear of hunters or predators. He came upon his sister wading naked in a lake; in fact, she was bathing, using the petals of unnaturally large roses to cleanse her glistening body. She was not startled when he approached her. She smiled at him. She held out her hand, her naked bosoms exposed. “Come in the water with me, Judas,” she said, her voice like a song.
He was then amazed, flabbergasted, and terrified of the fact that he was suddenly naked himself. He was not ashamed. Evangeline was goading him to come into the lake. She was splashing the water about her, giggling and joyous.
He jumped into the water. It was warm and very clean. He laughed and felt very light and perfect. He swam toward her.
He stood facing his sister.
“Give me a kiss,” she said.
They kissed, so lightly.
“Hold me tight,” she said.
Their bodies, in the lake, pressed together; there was nothing under their feet. They were no longer in the water, but in the sky, floating—no, flying, naked body to naked body.
“We are man and wife,” Evangeline said.
They started to fall.
They screamed.
They hit the ground.
Judas Payne woke up, shrieking. It took him a moment to realize he’d been dreaming. His heart was racing; he was, regardless, terrified. There was a weird sensation in his crotch. He examined himself, to find that there was a sticky, smelly white fluid down there.
* * *
His dream, a few weeks later, would prove to have prophetic properties.
The Reverend was in town, attending to both a funeral and a wedding. Judas knew his father would not return until late at night, as he often did when this duty called him. Evangeline was in the house. From the barn, he stared at the house. He could heart her moving in there, could almost smell her. It wasn’t the smell of food in the kitchen, which he had always been able to detect since he was a child, since his tenure inside the barn, but he could smell her body—the freshness of it, the excitement of it.
She would come to him, he knew this. She always did, and often early, when the Reverend was away. However, this time he could not wait for her. Something odd and powerful compelled him to act—something that, in the material he read, was often described as an “unseen force.”
He went into the house, the forbidden land, this time on his own, without the guidance and acknowledgment of his beautiful sibling. He almost stopped himself at the entrance, like there was an invisible barrier, like he was an devil at the Gates of Heaven.
He could hear her in the house, somewhere. He was sure of this. He could smell her, and he could see her—she was naked, just like the dream, maybe there was even a lake in here.
She was singing.
He knew that voice very well—so soft, so perfect, so drawing—
“Evangeline,” he said.
* * *
“Judas,” she said.
Evangeline Payne found herself not at all surprised that her brother had been watching her bathing in the metal tub, almost as if she’d known that one day, some day, this day would come. She’d been humming a tune, running the soap over her body, and she turned her head, and she saw him at the door, his green eyes blaring like something outside of this world. Her heart jumped—yes—and for a brief moment she was scared—yes— but this was her beloved angel, her messenger from God, and she knew she had nothing to fear.
She inquired, “How long have you been standing there, my angel on earth?”
“Not long,” he confessed.
“Why,” she asked next, “are you here?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I was driven. Forgive me, please.”
He turned to go. She rose from the tub, like the goddess she was, and said, “Judas, no, do not leave me.”
He stopped.
“Come here.”
He couldn’t move. He would not move. He was petrified. Water flowed in rivets down her body, soap clung to her in patchy spots. Her nipples were pink, her breasts pointed and small, the hair between her legs golden and thick.
“Judas,” she said.
“No!” he cried, and turned. He ran out of the house—this den of danger and estrangement—and returned to the only home he knew: the barn. He lay on his cot and there were tears in his eyes.
His body was on fire and he didn’t like this sensation at all.
Not long after, she came to him. He knew she would. He was still face-down on the cot.
“Judas Payne,” his sister said.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I brought you some food.”
He turned around. She was wearing a flowing blue nightgown, her hair done up. She was holding a plate of vegetables. She smiled, not a hint of anger or judgment on her face or in her eyes. He was sure she would be angry with him, but was relieved—and felt warm all over his body—that she was not.
She sat next to him.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Not for food,” he told her.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I do not know.”
“Tell me,” she said.
“I feel hungry for something,” Judas said. “My soul feels hungry. Is that possible? Can a soul be hungry?”
“Of course,” Evangeline said. “The soul is always hungry. It is hungry for God, and other things.”
“What other things?”
“Love.”
“Isn’t God love?”
“Yes,” she said. “But love is so much more, don’t you think?” “I think so,” he said.
“Are you hungry for me?” his sister asked him.
He didn’t know what to say.
“I am hungry for you,” she told him.
He didn’t know what she meant. He was shaking. She made him feel more at ease by taking a carrot from the plate and biting into it. He took a piece of celery. They both laughed, which broke the tension.
“Would you like me to read to you?” he said.
“Yes, but not right now. Right now, I would like to lie down next to you. I would like to feel you next to me. I would like to put my head on your chest and feel your heartbeat. Can I do that?”
“I suppose so,” the young Judas said, feeling frightened again.
Evangeline was in control, and she let him know this. She put the plate down on the floor and a hand on his chest, pushing him back on the cot. She lay next to him, cuddled into him, her head on his chest, just as she said it would be. This wasn’t the first time they had been like this, of course, but it seemed different and new to Judas.
They were quiet for a long time. He listened to her breath. He thought she might be asleep. Her eyes were opened.
“You saw me naked,” she said.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“What is there to forgive?”
“I went into the house. I snuck in like a thief.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I do not know,” he said.
“Yes you do.”
“I do not,” he said.
“It’s all ri
ght,” she said.
“THE DEVIL came over me,” Judas said, and: “THE DEVIL was inside me, making me do things I did not want or mean.”
She laughed and said, “You sound like father!”
He laughed too. He reached out to touch her.
“Did you like seeing me naked?” she asked her brother.
“Yes,” he replied.
They did not speak anymore. This time, she did fall asleep in his arms; and soon, he was asleep as well.
He next found her jumping up, grabbing the plate.
“Father will be home soon!”
“Go inside, fast,” he said.
“Goodnight, my angel on Earth,” she said.
“Goodnight,” he said.
My love, he thought.
* * *
As it turned out, they didn’t talk about that night, and resumed their lives as sister and outcast brother as they had before. When she came to see him in the barn, bringing him food, he would read to her from the latest book, and then she would depart. Within a few weeks, Judas Payne began to believe the whole incident—seeing her in the tub, holding her on the cot— was merely a dream.
* * *
And so it was like a dream that, when the Reverend was away in town for a whole day, Evangeline came to him in the barn and asked him if he would help her bathe.
He didn’t understand. She said, “I will place my body in the tub, and you will help to clean my body.”
His sister held out her hand. He took it. She lead him to the house. At the door, he became frightened. His body was hot, his heart beat fast, his legs were giving out from under him— “I can’t,” he said.
“Pardon me?”
He started to cry. “I CAN’T!”
He ran back into the barn, where it was safe.
Evangeline didn’t immediately go after him, as he thought she might—as he hoped she might. Instead, she came to him several hours later. Her skin was glowing and radiant. She’d taken her bath. She sat next to him on his cot and looked troubled.
Judas Payne: A Weird Western Page 3