Reckless: Shades of a Vampire (14 page)

“Not that you would have done anything wrong alone with him,” David says, as if he is assuring himself. “Of course not. You are an angel. But the world can corrupt just by being a part of it if we associated with the wrong people.

“So tell me? You met Michael once? Where did you meet him?”

“Across the road,” Emma says. “He worked at the Denton farm for a spell.”

“So you met him at the Denton farm. And what was this meeting about?”

“We just said hello,” Emma says. “That’s all. We just said hello.”

“Nothing else?” David says. “Just hello. Nothing more?”

“That’s right. Just hello. Nothing more. Then he left. I don’t think there is anything wrong with hello.”

“So that’s why you asked him where he went? Why did you think he went away?”

“Yes. That’s it. Nothing more. We said hello, and then I did not see him again. I saw him in the market and was surprised. That’s all.”

“He’s a heathen, Emma. Understand? You need to stay away from those types. You can’t trust a heathen. They don’t believe in God. They only believe in themselves.”

“What do you know about him?” Emma asks.

“Everybody on Sand Mountain knows about those hippies. They act like do-gooders in the community. But they don’t come to church, so we don’t know what they really want.”

“Have you met them?” Emma asks.

“No,” David says. “But I know what others have told me.”

“That sounds like hearsay. Gossip. Haven’t you read the book of James, four eleven?
Do not speak evil against one another, brothers. The one who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks evil against the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge
.”

David hits the brakes hard, and turns the wheel of the car sharply to the right. Emma braces herself with open palms against the windshield to keep from crashing through it.

She cries out.

“Are you trying to kill us?” she shouts.

On the shoulder of the road, David slams the brake, bringing the car to a halt. He turns toward Emma, reaches with his right hand and grabs the bottom of her chin, tugging it toward him. Her eyes are closed, and tears are streaming down her face.

“Look at me!” David commands.

“Must I?” Emma says.

“Look at me!” David says.

Emma opens her eyes, and turns her face toward his, peering into the many pocks on his face.

“Don’t you ever – EVER – ridicule me again,” David says. “Don’t you EVER do that, much less with the Bible. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yes,” Emma whimpers.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yes,” Emma whimpers.

“LOUDER!”

“YES,” Emma says.

David raises his left hand, slapping Emma on her left cheek hard enough to make a clap and leave a red mark. It stings, and she cries harder, placing her face into her open palms just above her lap.

“That’s a warning,” David says. “Just something to remember. There shouldn’t be a next time. But if so, it will come much harder than that. A woman who speaks out and ridicules her husband is a sinner. And a sinner must be punished.

“Do you understand?”

Emma wants to tell David she is not his wife. Instead, she remains silent.

“Do you understand?” he says again.

“Yes,” Emma says.

"This may not work out," David says. "How can I trust you. How do I know of your purity?"

"I'm a virgin," Emma says. "I promise."

They are almost back to the house and Emma has stopped crying. She doesn't want this to end on her terms, something her father would never tolerate. She figures she needs to patch things up, fast.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

David doesn’t respond.

“David, I’m sorry,” she says. “Please, forgive me. I just spoke to Michael once. It was innocent. I was just surprised to see him in the grocery store. I thought he was gone. I was just surprised. That’s all.”

David doesn't respond.

"Pull over, David," Emma says. "Stop the car. Please. I'm sorry. Let's just talk a minute."

"I don't want to pull over," David says.

"Yes you do," Emma says. "You just don't know it."

"There," Emma points. "Pull over there."

There's a small dirt road off to the left ahead.

David slows the car, puts on the blinker, and turns onto the road, driving about 100 yards before coming to a stop.

He puts the car in park.

"Turn off the engine," Emma says.

"Why?"

"Just do it," Emma says.

David shuts off the engine.

He looks at Emma to see what she has in store.

"David," Emma says. "You need to believe me. I told you I am a virgin and I am. But what about you? Or you a virgin?"

"Yes, of course," David says, tersely. 

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" 

"No," David says. "I have never dated. It didn't seem proper."

"Do you ever do the thing?" Emma says.

"What?"

"The thing. You know. Do you ever do the thing?"

"What?"

"David. You know."

David blushes, looking straight ahead.

"No, I..."

"Never?"

"No, I..."

"The Bible doesn't say it wrong, does it?" Emma says.

"No," David says. "But the Bible says don't lust. How can one do that without lust?"

"I do it," Emma says.

David turns and looks at her. She is turned in the seat toward him. She is running her fingers over her breasts on the outside of her dress. 

"I do it all the time. It feels good."

"Go on," David says.

"Maybe you should try it."

"What?"

"Now," Emma says. "Maybe you should try it."

"What do you mean."

"It wouldn't be proper for me to touch you David. Not before our wedding. And it certainly would not be proper for you to touch me. But you can touch yourself. And I will help you. Here. Now."

"I..." David stammers, before Emma stops him.

"Unzip your pants."

David doesn't move.

"Unzip your pants, David. NOW!"

David unzips his pants.

"Let it out."

"Emma, no."

"Let it out!"

David fishes his right hand into his boxers, unleashing his small but extremely hard dick. 

Emma smiles.

"Spit on your hand," she says. 

He does.

"Wrap it around your dick," she says.

He does.

"Now look at me," she says. "And listen.

"When I do it I rub my nipples," she says, swirling her fingers outside her dress. "Like this."

David is stroking faster.

"Then I pull up my skirt," she says, hiking it up, "like this."

"Ah," David says, his face contorting.

"And I touch my pussy," Emma says, rubbing on the outside of her panties, "like this."

"Ahhhh!" David says, bucking in his seat.

A load squirts from his dick and strikes the roof of the car.

"Ahh," David says, squeezing the last remaining drops out as they ooze over his fingers.

"Now," Emma says, pulling her dress back down. "Isn't that better?"

David sighs. He leans into the steering wheel. 

"You better clean that up," Emma says, pointing to the car roof. "Or it is going to fall on your head."

David retrieves a napkin from the glove compartment. He wipes off the roof, and his hand. He zips back up, throws the napkin out the window, and starts the car.

"Well," he says. "I guess I have no further complaints."

"I am forgiven?"

“You are forgiven, Emma” David says. “But only this once. I expect that we will not have further surprises like this, right?”

“I’m sure you are right about Michael being a heathen and all,” Emma says, making sure David is completely smoothed over. “I just didn’t really know. I’m not even sure where they live. I don’t know anything about them.”

“They stay near Ider but outside the limits,” David says.

“Where?”

“Just off Grinder’s Switch road I’ve heard. Somebody said they’ve got a giant American flag flying at their driveway. Like that makes it okay.”

David pulls up in the Mays’ driveway and stops.

“I’m not going to tell your father about this,” he says. “It’s my job to manage you now. I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yes, David,” Emma says. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sorry. Let’s forget about this and move on.”

David gets out of the car, walks to the passenger door, opens it, and reaches for Emma’s hand to help her from the car. She takes it, clutching tightly as she hoists herself from the seat.

“Well,” she says upon standing, “that was an experience.”

“Perhaps one trip to Ider is enough,” David says. "But maybe we could go back down that dirt road."

They laugh.

He leans his head toward Emma. She turns her face to the side, exposing her right cheek. He gives it a peck, with pursed lips. She closes her eyes and smiles as he backs away, job done.

“Mmm,” he says. “The sweet taste of an innocent child of God.”

“Good night, David,” Emma says.

“Good night Emma," David says. "See you next Saturday. Time we start making some Christmas plans.”

Emma turns away, walking inside the door, and clutching her left cheek.

David calls Emma’s house the next Friday, telling her he will pick her up at four thirty on Saturday afternoon to take her to meet his parents at their home in Henagar.

“Okay,” Emma says.

He knocks on the door precisely on time. She’s waiting in the parlor with a plate of chocolate chip cookies in a bag that she made in the afternoon as a gift to his family. Driving to his house, David tells Emma what is expected.

“This is important, you know,” he says.

“I know,” Emma responds.

“My father and your father were called by God to make this happen before we were,” he said. “But my father has never met you. He has heard about you, but he doesn’t know you. And your father makes him nervous with the snake-handling bit.

“This is your time to make a good impression. Show him what a beautiful Christian servant you are and everything will be fine.”

“What do I say? What do I do?” Emma says.

“They will want to see that you love God. They will want to see that you love me.”

“I see.”

“But, David, I barely know you,” Emma says.

“You know me. As much as a woman can know a man until they are married. Until they join together after marriage to make children as God calls. You will know me soon enough. But don’t let them know that. They have to see respect. That is knowing me.”

Emma quivers with chills up her arms.

“Are you chilly?” David asks.

“No,” Emma says.

They wind through the mountain highway to Henegar, with Emma studying the path, taking note of each turn and marker. David reaches for and takes her hand, wrapping his around hers. She makes a ball, as if her fingers are in retreat.

But, neither does she pull her hand away.

“We will need to hold hands,” David says.

“What?”

“Hold hands. In the house, when we meet my parents. We will need to hold hands. To show we are together. And one more thing: don’t say anything about the snake handling. I haven’t told my father yet.”

“You haven’t told your father?”

“I’m not sure how he feels about it,” David says. “When he and your father made the arrangement, it was discussed. Your father felt strongly that snake handling is an important part of the church.

“My father wasn’t sure. They decided it wouldn’t be an issue as long as it was not an issue. Understand?”

“They decided it wouldn’t be an issue?” Emma says. “Well, apparently your father did not know my father as well as her thought.”

David passes a long glance at Emma, while keeping the car on the road.

“You know, I must say, I loved it,” he says, after a few minutes of silence.

“What? Loved what?”

“The snake. I can’t get that snake out of my mind. I’ve never been so alive with the Holy Spirit,” David says.

“Uh huh.”

“What did it feel like, Emma?”

“What?”

“You know. What did it feel like, Emma? When the snake bit you?”

“Like I was in a dream,” she says. “Like it was three a.m. and three p.m., and Christmas and the Fourth of July at the same time.”

“Did it hurt?”

“I don’t recall,” she says. “But I don’t think so.”

They turn off the highway just as the sun is falling beyond the skyline into a winding gravel driveway.

“Home,” David says. “We’re here.”

Emma clutches her fists tightly against her abdomen.

David reaches with his right hand and places it over hers.

“It will be okay,” he says. “It is meant to be right with the Lord.”

They stop and park in the gavel drive in front of the 1970s-era ranch-style home underneath a pecan tree that has lost its leaves for the winter. The last flecks of remaining sun seep through the barren branches and Emma feels a cold breeze against her cheeks when she opens the door and gets out of the car.

The driveway crunches in their footsteps as they walk toward a side door. David opens a screen door, and someone on the other side opens the wooden door. Before them stands a woman with outstretched arms. She’s wearing a dark green dress, and has hips wider than her shoulders and hair completely gray.

“Emma,” the woman says. “Welcome. I am Mary, mother of David.”

Emma is startled.

“She loves that line,” David says, laughing.

“Well, it’s true,” David's mother says. “So I might as well say it before the Lord every day as long as he lets me, Praise be to God.”

Emma steps into kitchen, and David’s mother closes the door behind them. His father walks into the room. David reaches for Emma’s hand. He clasps it, and she feebly responds by clasping it loosely back. She looks out the kitchen window into the darkened sky.

David’s father speaks.

“So this is what the Lord hath brought us? Shall it be good? Our heavenly Father, we ask you if this is thy will?” he says in a loud tone, with a nasal pitch.

Emma clears her throat, and looks at David’s father, dressed in dark slacks and a dark blue shirt, with graying, smoothed back hair. He’s taller than David, by a few inches, and he gazes down on Emma from afar, without approaching her.