The Angel
Page 20
“Of course not. Anything else?”
“Well, I did do blood-play with a priest this evening, after which came much f**king.”
“Those were good works.”
“I’ll say.”
“Eleanor, what else?”
She heard in Søren’s voice an expectation. He knew she had more to confess.
“I lied about something else,” she finally whispered.
“You never have to be afraid to tell me anything,” Søren said, in that priestly tone that coaxed confessions like scared shadows from the darkest corners of hearts.
“You asked me today why I don’t answer the phone when Wes calls. I said it was because you hadn’t given me permission. That wasn’t the truth.”
Nora stared at the floor, unwilling and unable to meet Søren’s eyes.
“What is the truth?”
Swallowing, Nora forced herself to meet his eyes.
“I think,” she began and took a hard breath, “it wouldn’t be good for us if I did.”
Søren seemed to study her through the low and dying light of the fireplace. Her heart ached at the thought of hurting Søren. But he wanted the truth from her no matter what.
“Your penance,” he began and she braced herself.
“Yes, Father?”
“Make your peace with Wesley this summer while you’re away from me. Make your peace and do not return to me until you do.”
Nora’s stomach clenched. Make her peace with Wesley? What did that even mean? Just get over him? Or would she have to talk to him? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.
“Yes, Father” was all she could answer.
She bent her head.
“Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
Nora crossed herself.
“Amen.”
Nora stood up with a heavy heart. She hated that on their last night together before she left, she’d had to confess something so hurtful. But suddenly she was off her feet and in Søren’s arms. Without a word, he carried her upstairs to his bedroom.
“You aren’t angry?” she asked as he stripped her of his shirt and laid her in the bed. He slipped out of his pants and pressed his naked body into hers.
“Eleanor, will you ever learn that when I say ‘I love you’ I mean it?”
“Eventually maybe,” she said and smiled at him through the dark. “I’ll miss you so much this summer. Are you sure I have to go? Running away really isn’t my thing. Not anymore anyway.”
“I’m afraid in this scenario, discretion will be the better part of valor. Eleanor, this isn’t simply about the Church or the public finding out about us. There is more to fear than someone simply discovering that we’re together.”
“You don’t agree with Kingsley, do you? You don’t think it was just an old client of mine who stole my file, right?”
“I’m truly in the dark on this matter.” Søren gazed toward the shadows that lurked outside of the lamplight. “Whoever it is, and for whatever reason…I will not let them harm you. I’d let them cut out my heart first.”
Nora reached out and touched the wound over Søren’s heart. A superficial cut, it would heal in just days. The wounds underneath, however, were old and scarified and likely would never completely heal. Scar tissue, she’d once read, was the strongest of all tissues. Maybe Søren’s heart was so strong because it was so scarred.
“Eleanor? Do you remember my father’s funeral?”
Nora closed her eyes and became suddenly seventeen years old again. She’d faked a good excuse for her mother and accompanied Søren to his father’s funeral. She was there for Claire, his sixteen-year-old sister. Or at least, that was the cover story.
The night after the visitation she’d found Søren sitting in a large armchair in his childhood bedroom—a bedroom that held only the memories of nightmares for him. She remembered walking in and seeing him sitting, praying silently in a pool of moonlight. The white light had illuminated his face, his pale hair. On silent feet she came to him, and he’d taken her in his arms and held her. It had been the first time he’d admitted that he loved her, had loved her from the moment he saw her when she was only fifteen years old. His sadness and grief for the father who’d tried to destroy him came out that night as he told her the horror story that was his childhood. She’d only meant to comfort him. She’d made it to the next morning still a virgin, but just barely.
Nora giggled. “Oh, no. As long as I live I will never forget that night.”
Søren caressed her lips with his fingertips. “I know what you overheard, little one.”
Another memory came to her. This time it wasn’t nearly so pleasant. After leaving Søren that night, she’d headed for the room she and Claire were sharing. The house had over a dozen bedrooms but Søren insisted that neither she nor Claire sleep alone. The minute they’d arrived at the house, Søren changed. He’d always been highly protective of her, but suddenly he’d turned almost paranoid with both her and Claire. He acted as if there was a dangerous ghost haunting his childhood home. And in Søren’s arms that night she learned that wasn’t far from the truth. On her way to the guest room she saw the outline of a woman standing by an open window. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed. Next to her stood Søren, and they whispered back and forth to each other. Nora had slipped into a shadow and hidden herself there. Closer she crept and heard the woman say to Søren three words—I’m not sorry. And she heard Søren’s three-word reply. Neither am I.
“Well, I did do blood-play with a priest this evening, after which came much f**king.”
“Those were good works.”
“I’ll say.”
“Eleanor, what else?”
She heard in Søren’s voice an expectation. He knew she had more to confess.
“I lied about something else,” she finally whispered.
“You never have to be afraid to tell me anything,” Søren said, in that priestly tone that coaxed confessions like scared shadows from the darkest corners of hearts.
“You asked me today why I don’t answer the phone when Wes calls. I said it was because you hadn’t given me permission. That wasn’t the truth.”
Nora stared at the floor, unwilling and unable to meet Søren’s eyes.
“What is the truth?”
Swallowing, Nora forced herself to meet his eyes.
“I think,” she began and took a hard breath, “it wouldn’t be good for us if I did.”
Søren seemed to study her through the low and dying light of the fireplace. Her heart ached at the thought of hurting Søren. But he wanted the truth from her no matter what.
“Your penance,” he began and she braced herself.
“Yes, Father?”
“Make your peace with Wesley this summer while you’re away from me. Make your peace and do not return to me until you do.”
Nora’s stomach clenched. Make her peace with Wesley? What did that even mean? Just get over him? Or would she have to talk to him? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.
“Yes, Father” was all she could answer.
She bent her head.
“Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
Nora crossed herself.
“Amen.”
Nora stood up with a heavy heart. She hated that on their last night together before she left, she’d had to confess something so hurtful. But suddenly she was off her feet and in Søren’s arms. Without a word, he carried her upstairs to his bedroom.
“You aren’t angry?” she asked as he stripped her of his shirt and laid her in the bed. He slipped out of his pants and pressed his naked body into hers.
“Eleanor, will you ever learn that when I say ‘I love you’ I mean it?”
“Eventually maybe,” she said and smiled at him through the dark. “I’ll miss you so much this summer. Are you sure I have to go? Running away really isn’t my thing. Not anymore anyway.”
“I’m afraid in this scenario, discretion will be the better part of valor. Eleanor, this isn’t simply about the Church or the public finding out about us. There is more to fear than someone simply discovering that we’re together.”
“You don’t agree with Kingsley, do you? You don’t think it was just an old client of mine who stole my file, right?”
“I’m truly in the dark on this matter.” Søren gazed toward the shadows that lurked outside of the lamplight. “Whoever it is, and for whatever reason…I will not let them harm you. I’d let them cut out my heart first.”
Nora reached out and touched the wound over Søren’s heart. A superficial cut, it would heal in just days. The wounds underneath, however, were old and scarified and likely would never completely heal. Scar tissue, she’d once read, was the strongest of all tissues. Maybe Søren’s heart was so strong because it was so scarred.
“Eleanor? Do you remember my father’s funeral?”
Nora closed her eyes and became suddenly seventeen years old again. She’d faked a good excuse for her mother and accompanied Søren to his father’s funeral. She was there for Claire, his sixteen-year-old sister. Or at least, that was the cover story.
The night after the visitation she’d found Søren sitting in a large armchair in his childhood bedroom—a bedroom that held only the memories of nightmares for him. She remembered walking in and seeing him sitting, praying silently in a pool of moonlight. The white light had illuminated his face, his pale hair. On silent feet she came to him, and he’d taken her in his arms and held her. It had been the first time he’d admitted that he loved her, had loved her from the moment he saw her when she was only fifteen years old. His sadness and grief for the father who’d tried to destroy him came out that night as he told her the horror story that was his childhood. She’d only meant to comfort him. She’d made it to the next morning still a virgin, but just barely.
Nora giggled. “Oh, no. As long as I live I will never forget that night.”
Søren caressed her lips with his fingertips. “I know what you overheard, little one.”
Another memory came to her. This time it wasn’t nearly so pleasant. After leaving Søren that night, she’d headed for the room she and Claire were sharing. The house had over a dozen bedrooms but Søren insisted that neither she nor Claire sleep alone. The minute they’d arrived at the house, Søren changed. He’d always been highly protective of her, but suddenly he’d turned almost paranoid with both her and Claire. He acted as if there was a dangerous ghost haunting his childhood home. And in Søren’s arms that night she learned that wasn’t far from the truth. On her way to the guest room she saw the outline of a woman standing by an open window. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed. Next to her stood Søren, and they whispered back and forth to each other. Nora had slipped into a shadow and hidden herself there. Closer she crept and heard the woman say to Søren three words—I’m not sorry. And she heard Søren’s three-word reply. Neither am I.
