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At four-o-clock she will pray. This time she will. Martha had never been much of a catholic. She went to the church on holidays and not much more, but she had always thought herself faithful regardless.
Her faith may have been faint, but she had not realized, until now, just how frail it was.
Martha coughed, the dust of the old farmhouse closet filling her lungs, and bent down to search for the box she was looking for. She vaguely remembers it being on the right. For righteousness, Karen had joked all those years ago.
She smiles at the memory and runs her hand along the box. She takes the rosary beads out of the box and sees the bible and small wooden cross underneath untouched.
Neither Karen nor her had bothered or thought to put up symbols of their faith at the school. It wasn’t something they had talked about much. They had both been raised in the catholic church, but Martha was very private about her belief, and was not entirely sure if Karen believed at all.
Now, she wasn’t too sure herself.
She clutches the beads to her chest and steps out of the closet.
The muscles in her fingers stay strained to the beads the whole walk to the church. If she is killed in the light of day, may her soul be saved. If it can.
Her eyes skirt around the street she knows well, the possibility of recognition terrorizing her every move. Finally, the church is in her eyeline.
She finds a tree to hide behind and gets on her knees in the wet dirt of the spring. She prays.
And then she gets to the hard part. The part where she begs for forgiveness. For her wicked thoughts to be healed. She promised she would never surrender to temptation.
“Martha.”
She whips her head around and knows her prayers had not been heard. All she can feel when looking at Karen Wright is love and relief.
“What are you doing here?” She moves to stand.
“I followed you. It’s quite dangerous for us to be outside, you know.”
“I do, that’s why I went alone.”
Karen’s eyes drift down Martha’s body, she can feel them inch by inch. Her eyes linger on her legs and Martha quickly realizes the dirt has stained her skirt along the knee and calf.
“I was just praying.”
“Oh, that’s good, probably. We could use a miracle, couldn't we.”
Curiosity gets the better of her.
“Have you prayed? Since all of this?”
Karen hesitates to answer. “No, I haven’t.”
“Are you going to?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so,”
Martha is visibly scattered, looking from tree to tree, anywhere but to Karen.
“I suppose we should head home.”
Martha wipes a stray tear from her upper cheek, hoping she caught it in time to be indiscreet. “I suppose we should.”
Martha had ceased her tossing and turning what felt like hours ago. Her insomnia was now between her, and the ceiling she stared at.
The way Karen had taken care of her rung throughout her sick mind. She had pulled off Martha’s dirty skirt and scrubbed it down in front of her, purified and forgiven.
Martha had never felt so dirty.
She had put on the fire and moved Martha in front of it herself. The heat had blossomed so in the cavity of her heart, and soured over the course of the night like a cavity in a tooth.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
She tossed the sheets aside and surrendered. She opened the door and startled in surprise.
Karen stood at the end of the corridor, just as surprised as she.
“Karen? What are you doing up?”
“I was just getting a glass of water.”
“Oh, me too.”
They stood parallel, each watching the other carefully. Slowly Karen’s surprise warped into understanding, to pity.
Martha recoiled at the sight.
“Are you alright?”
“No, of course not.” Martha said, more stern than intended.
“Let’s sit in the parlor.”
Martha couldn’t argue, could never argue, so she nods. Karen leads them to the sofa and pats the space next to herself.
“If I could take all of this away from you I would.” Karen looks up into Martha’s eyes.
“I would too, take it all from you.” Martha breathes out.
“On the other hand it’s nice to share it, we are used to that sort of thing after all.”
“I suppose.” Martha closes in on herself.
“Martha what is it?”
Martha mumbles through her knees. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
“How could this possibly be your fault?”
“The more they say it, that we are sinners, the more I start to believe it. I’ve been praying that all of this will go away, but I am starting to understand. My prayers will do no good in this realm, they may only save my soul. If I am lucky.”
Karen stares at her, stunned.
“You couldn’t possibly believe that.”
Martha laughs through thin tears. “Oh but I do.”
“We have done nothing wrong!” Karen argues.
“You haven’t.” Martha corrects.
Karen tries to put the pieces together.
“That’s a horrible way to think.”
“I know.”
“No no, I mean about faith. If this god refuses to save my life, he so refuses ownership of my soul. This god of yours is no true God, not to me.”
“Karen, I must repent-”
“Repent for what! Martha Dobie you are the closest thing this cruel town has to a saint. I watch it, the care and empathy rings through you when you look at people. Your love pulses so deeply within you. You forget yourself! Try to see what I see within you, just try.”
All Martha feels when she looks at her is want.
The next time Martha tries to pray near the church, she is spotted by a woman and her daughter. They stare at her from the bottom of the hill with a look of contempt. As if her presence had run down and corrupted the soil below.
So Martha once again distances herself from faith. Karen in the parlor, Karen in the parlor. It is all she can think about when she kneels to pray anyways.
Besides, she wanted to move on and be more practical, for Karen’s sake. She could tell by the way Karen fidgeted while looking out the windows. They needed to get out of here. It was all Karen talked about anymore, running away.
She had taken it upon herself to buy two tickets for the train next week.
Karen was thrilled and immediately hugged her tight. It all clicked into place. How could her love be a sin, when it caused such happiness. Karen always pushed her to be the best version of herself, something the church nor god had never bothered to try.
“I’m in love with you.” She whispered honestly.
Karen froze in her arms. “You’re what?”
“I- I’m in love with you Karen.”
Karen pulls back, Martha immediately misses the warmth.
“And so?” Karen follows up with a brief pause.
“And so I had to tell you. You seem very calm.”
“I do?”
Martha nods.
“You’ve been sorely misled.” Karen slowly grabs Martha’s hand and places it over her heart. Martha feels the quick pulse under her fingertips.
Their foreheads fall together in sweet harmony.
“Is that what you’ve been trying to pray away?”
Martha gives a somber nod in response.
“Honestly, I’m not a believer, but I am glad it didn’t work.”
“Me too.” Martha looks to her lips.
“My church has failed me, but you, you have always been my savior haven’t you?”
Karen grins. “You think so highly of me.”
“I do.” Martha caresses her cheek. Karen nudges forward, noses brushing.
And their lips slip together. They tug back and forth like waves of a full moon. Coming home. Home. Home.