Awakening

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jonathan woke shivering. He had fallen asleep lying naked upon the bed. Light was coming through the window. He heard the pendulum clock in the classroom below strike the quarter hour. But which quarter-hour? He dare not be late for Sabbath Service. Not only would he be fined for not being there on time, he was to meet his parents as usual. His father would not think kindly of his being late. Grabbing his robe, he climbed down the ladder to check the hour: quarter past seven. Service began at nine. He breathed easier.

Remounting the ladder, he pulled on his breeches and put on his shoes. Donning a loose fitting shirt, he descended the ladder once more. Taking a basin from the shelf by the door, he went out into the back schoolyard to the pump and filled it with icy water. While there, Jonathan also used the privy. Taking a moment to look at the signs of early fall in the leaves, he smiled at the memory of Nathaniel’s departing figure through those trees the night before.

He carried the memories of the previous night’s activity back into the schoolhouse, where he washed with the cold water. There was no need to shave. He had shaved what little beard he could grow the day before and would not have to endure that again until the start of the new week. Skipping his thorough washing would not be wise, he needed to remove all odors of Nathaniel’s body as well as his own excretions.

He climbed the ladder and finished his preparations for the morning. He dressed in his Sabbath best shirt and coat. He polished his shoes and tied his hair back with a black ribbon. Descending the ladder into the classroom, he retrieved an apple from the barrel behind the podium to serve as his breakfast.

He sat eating his apple and opened his Bible to begin his morning reading and prayers. The Bible fell open to the first chapter of Paul’s letter to the Romans. Suddenly he was face to face with the doctrines he had repressed with fair success the night before. Doctrines he had not suspected, until then, applied to him. His joy at his newfound identity evaporated like the morning fall mist in the sunshine. He closed his eyes, trying once more to recapture the wonder of the previous day. He was a different man than before. Yesterday he had come to understand what had caused the internal restlessness he had experienced since reaching puberty. He had spent many hours on the wharf, which pleased his father who was a shipbuilder. He now knew why he had always been drawn to the docks where the sailors and crews, immune to the strict Puritan dress taboos, walked around openly with chests bared. He realized too that his attraction to the blacksmith was not the desire to learn the art of iron working, but rather to gaze at the chest hair that curled from the fringes of the apron worn by the huge man behind the forge.

He thought of the previous morning. He had accompanied his father and older brother, Samuel, to the cooperage. There the elder Carver met with Mr. Worthing, the proprietor, to negotiate a contract for barrels, casks and kegs to be used on the vessels he was having built. As Jonathan idly wandered among the men working on the barrels and casks, his eyes caught those of a man working on the hooping of a large barrel. The man’s muscular arms showed even through his long-sleeved shirt. His dark hair was glistening with sweat from his work effort. The man had raised his eyes and the two men made contact.

For Jonathan, it was as if everything went into slow motion. All others in the room seemed to disappear. As the man straightened up and walked toward him, Jonathan took in every motion. His breath came in short bursts. He could not take his eyes off the man. He was not particularly handsome, but his rugged features, the way his smile creased his cheeks and lit up his eyes were mesmerizing. He stopped mere inches from the younger man and placed his hand on his shoulder. Jonathan felt a jolt as if lightning had struck him.

“Forgive me for my forwardness,” the man said with a husky voice, but I must ask if we could share the noon meal together and talk. My name is Nathaniel Morgan.”

Jonathan had nodded dumbly, overwhelmed by the feeling that had burst forth in his body. When he found his voice, he said, “Of course, I…I…”

“That is wonderful,” Nathaniel interrupted Jonathan’s stuttered response. “I feel there is some wondrous good that will come of our becoming acquainted. Will you meet me at the tavern on the wharf at noon? The Figurehead? Do you know it?”

Once more, the young man nodded without attempting to speak.

Nathaniel squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder. Once again the jolt went through his body. It was apparent from Nathaniel’s reaction that he had felt it, too.

“Aha,” he exclaimed. “See, I am right.”

At that very moment Jonathan’s father, Mr. Worthing, and his brother came around the corner. The two older men were talking and did not witness the contact between the two men, but Samuel had. He looked from Jonathan to Nathaniel and raised his eyebrows, then frowned. Immediately the two men stepped back from one another.

The memory of his brother’s reaction brought Jonathan back to himself. He sighed deeply. Was his brother’s reaction to seeing the two men in contact a warning? If it was, Jonathan had not heeded it. He had dined with Nathaniel and then he came to lie with him as with a woman. Jonathan knew that scripture well, too. He had taught from Leviticus that very week at the school. Being it was the beginning of the school year, he had begun Bible study from the book of Genesis. At the time he had made no connection between the restless longing of his spirit and that particular Bible verse, but, in light of what had transpired between him and Nathaniel, he felt guilt rise within him.

Sitting, staring unseeing at the Bible that had fallen open on his lap, he was washed with remorse for what only hours ago had been the most liberating experience of his life. He knew the penalty for such an act was death: physical death here and spiritual death in the hereafter. How could he have allowed this to happen? He felt tears form in his eyes. Were they remorse, or the sense of loss he was feeling, knowing what had transpired on Sabbath eve could never, never happen again? That thought pierced his heart more bitterly than the realization that he had sinned.

The clock struck. Jonathan looked up. Quarter past eight. It was time to leave for Sabbath Services. Torn in a way he had never experienced in his life, he rose, laid the Bible, still open, on the desk nearest him, took his hat from the peg, and left the school.