The Taker

were some desirous glances being exchanged between men and women as they spun past each other on the dance floor?), I became aware of the preacher’s sudden presence before me. With his piercing eyes and sharp features, he was beguiling and seemed aware of this advantage, and grinned so that I could see his incisors, sharp and white.

“I thank you for joining me and your neighbors this evening,” he said, bowing his head. “I take it you are a spiritual seeker, looking for greater enlightenment, Miss…?”

“McIlvrae,” I said, edging back a half step. “Lanore.”

“Reverend Judah Van der Meer.” He reached for my hand and gave my fingertips a squeeze. “What did you think of my sermon, Miss McIlvrae? I trust you weren’t too shocked”-here his eyes danced again, as though he was teasing me for his enjoyment-“by the frankness with which I present my beliefs?”

“Shocked?” I could barely choke out the word. “By what, sir?”

“By the idea of spiritual wifery. I’m sure a young woman like yourself can sympathize with the principle behind it, the idea of being true to one’s passions-for if I’m not mistaken, you seem a woman of great, deep passion.”

He picked up vehemence as he spoke, his eyes-and I do not believe I imagined this-running over my body as surely as if he’d used his own hands. “And tell me, Miss Lanore, you look a marriageable age. Has your family already bonded you in the slavery of betrothal? It would be a pity for a fine young woman such as yourself to spend the rest of her life in a marriage bed with a man for whom she feels no attraction. What shame to go through one’s entire life without feeling true physical passion”-here his eyes glinted again, as though he were about to pounce-“which is a gift from God to his children!”

My heart was near to bursting from my chest and I was like a rabbit drawn up in the wolf’s sights. But then he laughed, placed a hand on my arm, sending a tingle straight to my head, and drew close to me, close enough for me to feel his breath on my face and for an errant lock of his hair to brush my cheek.

“Why, you look as though you are about to faint! I think you need some air… Will you step outside with me?” He had my arm already and didn’t wait for me to answer, but whisked me to the porch. The night air was much cooler than the stuffy confines of the house and I took deep breaths until my stays wouldn’t let me draw in any more.

“Better?” When I nodded, he continued, “I must tell you, Miss McIlvrae, I was so happy that you joined us in this more intimate setting. I hoped that you would. I noticed you in the field this afternoon and I knew right away that I had to meet you. I felt a bond with you immediately-did you feel it, too?” Before I had a chance to answer, he took my hand in his. “I’ve spent most of my life traveling all over the world. I have a thirst to meet people. Every so often I meet someone extraordinary. Someone whose singularity can be seen, even across a field full of people. Someone like you.”

He had the glittery-eyed look of a man with a high fever, the wild look of someone chasing a thought but unable to focus, and I started to become frightened. Why had he singled me out? Or perhaps I hadn’t been singled out, perhaps this was an enticement he made to any girl impressionable enough to consider his offer of spiritual wifery. He pressed against me in a way too familiar to be polite, seeming to enjoy my distress.

“Extraordinary? Sir, you do not know me at all.” I tried to push him aside, but he continued to stand stubbornly in front of me. “There is nothing extraordinary about me.”

“Oh, but there is. I can feel it. You must feel it, too. You have a special sensibility, a remarkably primal nature. I can see it in your lovely, delicate face.” His hand hovered near my cheek as though he might touch me, as though he was compelled to do so. “You are full of want, Lanore. You are a sensual creature. You burn to know of this physical bond between man and woman… It is in the fore-front of your thoughts. You hunger for it. Perhaps there is a particular man…?”

Of course there was-Jonathan-but I thought the preacher was angling to see if I fancied him. “This talk is not proper between us, sir.” I stepped sideways and started to dart around him. “I should go inside…”

He put a hand on my arm again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I apologize. I’ll speak of it no more… but please, indulge me for one more minute. I have a question I must ask of you, Lanore. As I took the field this afternoon, and I noticed you, I saw you were speaking to a young man on horseback. An exceptionally good-looking fellow.”

“Jonathan.”

“Yes, that’s the name I was told. Jonathan.” The preacher licked his lips. “I have since been told by your neighbors that this young man might be sympathetic to my philosophies. Do you think you might arrange an audience for me with Jonathan?”

I felt prickling along the back of my neck. “Why do you wish to meet Jonathan?”

He laughed in his throat, nervously. “Well, as I said, from what I’ve been told he seems a natural disciple, the kind of man who can appreciate the truth of what I say. Could take up the cause and, perhaps, be an outpost of my church up here in the wilderness.” I looked into his eyes and saw for the first time a true wickedness about him, a love of chaos and disruption. He meant to sow this wickedness in Jonathan, too, as he tried to sow it in this town. As he’d hoped to sow it in me.

“My neighbors are amusing themselves at your expense, sir, since you don’t know Jonathan as I do. I doubt he would have much interest in what you have to say.” Why I felt I had to protect Jonathan from this man, I don’t know. But there was something ominous about his interest.

The preacher didn’t like my answer. Perhaps he knew I was lying or he didn’t appreciate being thwarted. He gave me a long, intimidating stare, as though thinking about what to do next to get what he wanted, and I felt for the first time in his presence true danger, a sense that this man was capable of anything. Just then, Nevin appeared in front of us with a blazing torch in hand-and for once, I was glad to see him.

“Lanore! I was looking for you. I’m ready. Let’s go!” he bellowed.

“Good night,” I said, breaking away from the preacher, whom I hoped to never see again. His fiery stare bored into my back as Nevin and I left.

“Satisfied with your little outing?” Nevin grunted at me as we headed down the road.

“It wasn’t what I expected.”

“I would say so. The man’s daft, probably made so by the diseases he undoubtedly carries,” Nevin said, meaning syphilis. “Still, I hear he’s had followers down in Saco. Wonder what he’s doing this far north?” It didn’t occur to Nevin that the man might have been driven out by the authorities, that he might be on the run. That in his madness he could be given to visions and grandiose predictions, putting ideas into the heads of gullible young girls and threatening those less than willing to do as he wished.

I hugged my shawl tightly around my shoulders. “I would appreciate it if you’d not tell Father what the preacher said…”

Nevin laughed blackly. “I should think not. I can barely bring myself to recall his blasphemous talk, let alone repeat it to Father! Multiple wives! ‘Spiritual wifery’! I don’t know what Father would do-take to me with a whipping rod and lock you in the barn until you were twenty-one for even listening to the heathen’s words.” He shook his head as we walked on. “I tell you what, though-that preacher’s teachings sure would suit your boy Jonathan. He’s made spiritual wives out of half the girls in town already.”

“Enough about Jonathan,” I said, keeping the preacher’s strange interest in Jonathan to myself so as not to confirm Nevin’s poor opinion of him. “Let us talk no more about it.”

We fell quiet for the rest of the long walk home. Despite the cool night air, I still tingled from the dark look on the preacher’s face and the glimpse into his true nature. I didn’t know what to make of his interest in Jonathan nor what he meant by my “special sensibility.” Was my longing to experience what went on between a man and a woman so obvious? Surely that mystery was at the heart of the human experience; could it truly be unnatural, or especially evil, for a young woman to be curious about it? My parents and Pastor Gilbert would probably think so.

I walked down the lonesome road agitated inside and titillated by all of this open talk of desire. The thought of knowing Jonathan-of knowing other men in the village the way Magda knew them-left me hot and liquid inside. This evening I had awakened to my true nature, though I was too inexperienced to know it, too innocent to realize I should be alarmed by the ease with which desire could be sparked within me. I should have fought against it more staunchly, but perhaps there was no use, as one’s true nature always wins out.