“Do you feel unready for this part of our union?”
She nodded.
“Then it can wait,” Payne said, and left her.
He wasn’t being chivalrous; she knew that—he was as uninterested about copulation as she was frightened.
In regards to sexual relations in general, Reverend Payne had no opinion. Unlike other preachers, he did not fill his sermons with precautionary ambulation on fornication and the sins of the flesh. Payne was not concerned with drives that did not hinder him, as was the case of the hypocrites who did speak of it at length, almost as an obsession (and his knowledge of their frequency of brothels as “missionary work”). Payne could not understand what made men and women act so nonsensical over the matter; he failed to see the use, other than for procreation, that the act beheld. His sermons, rather, were warnings of Babylonian governments, war, and how to spot those agents of Satan who walked among us in every day life.
Finally, Payne came to Katherine’s room to do his duty, because he knew it was his duty: the Bible instructed him so. Katherine wasn’t frightened anymore—she had three weeks to prepare and ponder. By now, she was curious more than anything else. She wanted to get it over with.
In the darkness, her husband made his attempt to mount her. He was motionless for a while, did not seem to know what to do. His cold hands felt around down there, and placed himself inside her. She cried out, out to God, closing her eyes. It was over quickly. She felt a warm stickiness in and on her privates. She tried to kiss Jedediah—he had taken her virginity, after all, and this meant something. Payne stood, asked if she was all right. She told him yes. He apologized and left her alone.
She thought she might cry. This was horrible. But, like her husband, she ultimately had no emotional response to the matter.
This hasty act produced a pregnancy, which the Reverend seemed pleased about. Katherine was not sure how she felt; after the weeks of sickness inclined, and her belly grew, she knew the child in her would be loved by her, loved for all eternity, loved by a family. Not the most perfect family, but a family nonetheless. It was a terrible world, the Civil War was proof of this, and Katherine Payne came to realize that the finest quality of human nature was the nature of family.
Evangeline Payne was born into this world with difficulty. It was a long and arduous labor, which Katherine felt certain she would die from. She knew about the many women who did expire during childbirth; she forebode that she might follow in their path. She was bedridden for several weeks after. The doctor told the Paynes that if a large family was wanted, it would not be a good idea. Katherine was small in the hips, and maybe too young; and while she may be able to have one or two more children, any beyond that would “likely be the death of her,” the Doctor confided to the Reverend, which Katherine heard outside her door.
That was fine by Katherine Payne née Blairwood. Holding her pink, soft, gurgling daughter to her breast for suck, she felt one child would be perfectly fine. She didn’t want to go through the ordeal of labor again, ever. The only thing that worried her was her husband; men, she knew good and well, coveted sons (as her own father probably wished for during his waning years) to carry on the name, the heritage, the fantasy of dynasty. Was her husband that kind of man? How could she know, when she and Jedediah seldom discussed anything, or spent intellectual time together?
Reverend Payne was not certain how he felt about his daughter’s birth into the world of evil, war, and men who cavorted with The Devil. He was, secretly, pleased that he could produce such life from his loins, as God had created all men to do; and he was pleased with the fact that he had a young mind that he could steer in the proper direction regarding the ways of the Lord. He had hoped for neither son nor daughter, had never given it much consideration. He was not unfailing if he desired more offspring. Eventually, he supposed, he would need a son—a son he could guide into his own vocation (as his father had), a son he could look on with pride. One day he would approach Katherine about it, but not now. Payne had other things to contend with at the moment, one of which was the opposition from the rectors of his faith against his sermonizing and preaching.
He’d always been called overzealous, this was nothing new; this critical position had surrounded him since he first knew his calling, at the tender age of ten. But when he began to cast out demons and heal the meek from the pulpit, fellow preachers at his church and other Baptist establishments in the city began to let him know that what he was doing...was uncouth. Payne knew they envied his ability to cast out Satan’s fiends from the bodies of the afflicted; those he saved were happier and bright, their eyes glimmering, singing praises to the Lamb Jesus, and Payne and only Payne witnessed the ephemeral ghouls scuttle away and return—injured by God—to the dark corners of their realm. As for those who did not fully heal, it was their fault and not his; their faith was weak—if it were as solid as his, their club-feet would return to normal, their blinding eyes would see, and their deafening ears would hear...
He became convinced that The Devil was out to get him. Payne was leading men and women away from the Dark Prince’s reign. Obviously, The Devil had gotten to others in the ministry, or had planted demons in the form of men who dared quote scripture and tend to the flock. This caused Payne to be more out-spoken when addressing the church-goers.
Then he was told, by the elders, that his services at the church were no longer needed. Satan! Very well—he would find another tabernacle.
No others, however, wanted him.
Coming home one night, terrified by Satan’s powers and his own dogma waning, Reverend Payne went to find solace in his wife. It was the first time he had ever considered talking to her. But he was alone now, so very alone, and perhaps God had forsaken him, perhaps he had done something to make God angry. He had a wife, though, so he was not that alone. He went to her room. The baby was asleep. His wife was in her nightgown, combing her hair at the vanity. She moved to cover herself. A modest young woman, he admired that.
Something queer took him over. Gazing on Katherine’s white flesh, he felt a heat inside he had never felt before—other than when he was at his best form in the church—and a twitching in the loins. He was dizzy with this sensation. I succumb to my own Darkness, he thought—
He grabbed Katherine, throwing her on the bed. She started to protest, then looked away. She asked to have the lights turned off, but Payne was enraptured with this new sense of being and did not hear her request. He quickly took his wife, found that his erection had not diminished, and knew her again. She let out several loud sighs and groans. Good Lord, was the woman enjoying this? He certainly was.
2.
Katherine was not enjoying it. It was painful—not as much the first time, but still so. Her husband was being rough. Her sighs were not for joy but to let the air out, due to his weight on her frail body. She had hoped it would be as quick as that first time, but when he was done, he did it again. The sheets under her were damp with sweat and his seed. Payne said nothing to her. He stood and left her room.
3.
As quickly as the carnality possessed him, it vanished. Reverend Payne felt base, hexed. When he removed himself from her room, he went to his study, flogged himself on the back with a small whip he kept in his desk. The throbbing of his flesh made him think clear. Very clear.
If the infidels would not have him in Boston, he would go to another city.
He would go far away.
He would go West.
4.
Katherine Payne did not know what had
