The Beast of Yeller Wood

Chapter 6

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   I was tired, overwhelmed, and seriously perplexed by the events that just took course. I just got very intimate with a stranger, and now I have the feeling that he’s my soul mate. I just can’t shake that off; it’s just bizarre and simply shouldn’t be happening. The way John touched me just made my heart beat rapidly with the thought. All I wanted was to reach out and feel him again and again. He was quiet as he ate his bowl of stew, I felt a little guilty because it had cooled off completely by now. I lay in bed pretending to sleep, but I couldn’t with all of the thoughts causing traffic in my brain.  The cold bed felt to empty and large, I tossed and turned.

                Once he finished, I heard him blow out the candles. Including the one placed next to my bed, I could nearly feel him touch me as he bent over. And then his heavy feet soon drifted away, I pouted a little. He resumes his spot by the fire for a deep winter’s slumber. The room is silent except for the crackling of the fire, I cannot stand this. I do not hear John’s snore, I doubt he is asleep. I slip in and out of a light doze through the night, constantly waking up. I wake the next morning bone tired, but I must wake. For there is breakfast to be made, and church to attend today and I cannot opt out.

                I slowly and methodically dress into my best church dress for winter. It is velvet, dyed deep maroon, and has a lining of lace around the high neck and the very long sleeves. It is the second finest dress I own, and was passed down by my mother to me. I pull my hair back, which does take a great deal of time. I put on my great-aunt’s broach that was left to me when she died a spinster. Once I am prepared for church I emerge from my parent’s bedroom.

                John has just woken, his eyes are still bleary and his hair is an untidy mop sitting upon his head. He blinks furiously a few times, rub his eyes and takes me in slowly.  Slowly I approach him, and smile a little.

                “Would you care to accompany me to church? It begins in an hour.” I ask softly,

                He grunts, “Yes, yes I shall get ready momentarily.” He scratches his forehead,

                I nod and heat some leftover biscuits for our early-morn meal. We eat quietly; he is still groggy despite the nicely combed hair, fresh-shaven face, and clean clothing. I doubt he slept well. I dare not ask, not wanting to discuss the previous night. As we leave I wrap myself in a heavy shawl, and he bundles up in his warm coat. As we descend down the front stairs, he brushes away the piled up snow for me to daintily make my way down. Many paths have been carved out of the snow; we navigate through these on our way to the church. People begin to emerge from their homes with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. I catch sight of Perry as he walks with his family. I nudge John, no longer looking in Perry’s direction.

                “Would you mind having discretion with the fact we are unmarried living together? If anyone asks could you say that you live below in the workshop?” I murmur,

                He nods silently, I am relieved he takes no offense and agrees. I pull my shawl closer to my body; the cold finds any way it can in. The sight of the church at the end of the road is a welcome sight. I can already hear the muffled voices of people, the organ and choir playing, and the church bell ringing. The small log church with a peaked roof is both charming and peaceful. As we approach the open doors, I smile a little bit at the image of Christ the Redeemer in the stained glass as it filters in the early morning light with strokes of brilliant colors pouring in. I lead John through the throngs of people to our bench. The two of us earn many second glances and whispers. I dare not even think about what they are thinking. Slowly everyone begins to take their seats. Perry and the rest of the Vern family file into our lane. Perry squishes himself next to me, I feel John tense. I could die right now; this is cruel humor being stuck between these two. As the sermon goes on, the worse it gets. John lays out his palm, as if waiting for my hand. Perry unaware of John, he does the same. It earns me many envious glares from the girls surrounding us. I can’t even concentrate; I just go through the routine of standing up, sitting down, and kneeling for prayer. I have not been the finest Christian specimen, but this was at its worst. All I could think about is things of sinful nature.