Revelations(53)
I understand his restlessness; I feel his desire to take action, some sort of action, for that’s his nature, and this waiting must be wearing on him. My Judas isn’t very patient, I’m afraid. I hope and pray I haven’t harmed him by loving him.
No, in my heart, I feel it was the right thing for us. I wish I hadn’t been so blind for so very long. Or that I’d dared to be more open with my feelings earlier. But it’s pointless to look back on what might have been. Instead I need to focus on what may be. And what may be is the saving of Judas Iscariot. He deserves to live, and I intend to see that he does.
My mind is made up.
As if Jude’s restlessness has become contagious, Mary Magdalene seems to be anxious to go, and I realize that for now it’s probably for the best. If he stays here with me much longer, I’m afraid he’ll notice something, and query me about it, and I cannot and will not lie to him. So I make no objection when Mary says it’s time to leave. Judas objects, of course. Almost violently. I must calm him down, the ladies discreetly withdrawing in order to leave us alone for a few minutes.
“I will not leave you!” he insists. He gazes at me heatedly, and I know he means what he is saying. “I will stay all night. I’ll sit on the floor outside this cell if I must, but I am not leaving!” He punctuates his words by crossing both arms over his chest in his most stubborn manner, as he plants himself defiantly in front of me, knowing I’d never use any sort of brute force to move him. But I also know I don’t need to. If I ask it, he will go. For my sake. And if that’s taking unfair advantage of his feelings for me, then so be it; in the long run it’s for his own good.
“Judas, please.” I lean in to him, whisper into his ear. I can feel him shiver at the warmth of my breath. “Please, Jude…for me? You know I wouldn’t ask, if it weren’t necessary. Please understand.”
I can feel him begin to weaken, he cannot resist my entreaty, and he closes his eyes in anguish. I can feel the tears he’s fighting, and it takes all of my strength not to simply collapse and give in to this treacherous tide that urges me to forget it all, forget everything, take him and run now, run far away where no one can find us.
Wherever that might be. Is there such a place? But we can’t do that, and I know we can’t. So I kiss his cheek softly, and murmur, “Come back to me tomorrow, as soon as you can, please. I need you so very much.”
And he promises he will, and with a final kiss—this time upon his pretty lips—
I send my love away for now, although it almost kills me to do so.
Mrs. Kaplan returns at dinnertime, with food for her husband, and for me. I thank her for her trouble, but I’ve no appetite. While her husband and child eat, the gentle woman comes into my cell and sits with me, as the evening shadows begin to climb upon the wall. I think Lucifer’s group has gone to their dinner as well, for I hear nothing from outside. The town must be settling down for the night. It’s a welcome respite from their earlier vitriolic ramblings.
“No,” she’s saying, in response to my query as to whether Kaplan always takes his meals here, “no, not usually. I knew he wouldn’t leave you here alone, so I decided to bring him his dinner. And yours, even though you haven’t eaten.” She offers me a reproachful smile, much as my mother would, were she here, and I find myself smiling at her in return.
“I’m sorry to disrupt your lives so,” I murmur, “but it won’t be for much longer, then you’ll have your husband back at home, where he belongs.”
“Two days.” She nods. “And then you’ll be released on bail. Don’t think he won’t watch out for you then, Mr. Stone, because he will. He’s a good man, and he believes in doing the right thing.”
“Please, call me Joshua,” I insist, “Mr. Stone is a bit formal, considering, don’t you think?”
She chuckles her agreement. “You’re right. Joshua. But then you have to call me Kathy, not Mrs. Kaplan. Deal?” She holds out her slender hand.
“Deal,” I agree, shaking her hand firmly.
“I meant what I said before, I’d love to attend your next show, with Sarah,” she continues. I make no response, casting my eyes upon the floor. I feel the bed shake as she takes a seat beside me, clasping my hands in hers. “What is it?” she asks me, concern blossoming in her voice. “What is wrong, Joshua? I want to help you. We only want to help you. Please tell us how we can do that?”
“There’s nothing you can do, thank you, Kathy.” I offer her a smile; perhaps it comes out a bit sadder than I’d intended. I’ve always found it difficult to dissemble, especially now. My emotions are too close to the surface to be hidden, and yet I must do so.