The Reverend's Wife

“Christina,” a voice said her name quietly. “Christina, come and eat something.”

She opened her eyes. It was still dark inside- but of course Charles would not have opened the shades while she was sleeping. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. Charles was kneeling at the bed in front of her.

“I’ve got some dinner in the kitchen. Come and have something to eat.”

“You’re probably the only man in town who can cook at decent meal,” she smiled.

“I didn’t say it was decent,” he smiled and kissed her quickly. “Come on. Put your hair up in case someone shows up and meet me in the kitchen.” He stood and left the room.

She rolled out of the bed. She took the black ribbon and tied her hair into a simple bun once again. She stood up straight and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. She opened the drapes to the bedroom and walked out to the kitchen. Charles sat at the head of the table smiling.
“You look wonderful,” he said in slightly sarcastic voice.

“It isn’t my fault all you Puritans won’t let me wear color,” she said quietly. She sat at the table across from him.

“Oh my,” his eyes were huge and he looked disgusted.”

“What is it?”

He looked at his plate and started laughing. “This is terrible, completely terrible.”

She took a bite cautiously. “You’re right. It is terrible.” She picked up her plate and walked over to take his. “I’ll see what I can do.” She walked to the oven. He followed.

“We were talking about it spreading before,” he said, just barely above a whisper. “All I can say is that I hope it doesn’t. You may be a reverend’s wife, but I’m a young reverend, and the fact remains that you are not a Puritan. That never looks good to witch hunters.”

“You think they’ll come for me?”

“I hope not. I don’t think anyone in town is aware that you are not Puritan, and the longer we keep it that way, the better off we are. Most people won’t even think to accuse you because you are my wife, and that’s just how it is.”