The Saint
Page 51
“Fuck,” she breathed, and buried her head in her arms.
“I didn’t want to do this, Eleanor. I never wanted to do this. Not like this anyway. But perhaps the Bible was right in this instance—spare the rod, spoil the child.”
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
“You going to hit me?”
“Not tonight,” he said simply. “The night we made our little bargain, I told you there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I meant it. Which is why you’ll have to forgive me doing this now.”
“Doing what?”
“Raro solus, nunquam duo, semper tres.” Søren sounded as if he were quoting something.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s an old Jesuit rule they beat into us. Figuratively, of course. It means ‘rarely alone, never two, always three.’ The Jesuits have rules against what they call particular friendships. In seminary we were to talk in groups of three or more. It’s considered dangerous to be alone with another person, even another priest.”
“Why? They thought you’d start having crazy g*y sex the minute you were alone together?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No. Although I was propositioned more than once.”
“Color me surprised.”
“But still, I thought it a pointless rule. I understand it now. You and I have a particular friendship. And it has to end.”
“End?” Her voice broke on the word.
“I told you if you watered that stick every day for six months, I’d answer your questions. You failed in this task. You will not be rewarded. I told you that you had to obey me forever, and I would give you everything. You disobeyed me and went to your father and now you’re suffering the consequences. For the foreseeable future, Diane will monitor your community service. This particular friendship of ours will cease until that day comes that I’m certain you are mature enough to be in an adult relationship. And by adult I do not mean sexual. I mean a relationship between equal partners.”
“What do you mean? We can’t be friends anymore?”
“Unfortunately, yes, that is what I mean. Of course, I’ll still be your priest. And if and when you need a priest, I’ll be here for you, but only in that capacity. Go, Eleanor. Go be a normal teenager for a year or two. Go grow up.”
“A year or two?” It sounded like the worst prison sentence imaginable. No more long talks in the choir loft? No more help with her homework? No more cocoa when she was fighting with her math homework?
“I’m your priest, not your babysitter.”
Eleanor only looked at him. Even in the faint light of a passing streetlamp, she could see how hard his eyes had turned. His face was as cold and stony as granite. All affection, all concern, all mercy had drained from his expression.
“You’re a cold bastard,” she said, refusing to let another tear fall. “You know that, right?”
“I do. And it is for the best you know it now, as well.”
The Rolls-Royce pulled up at the end of her street, far enough away her mother wouldn’t see where she’d come from, close enough she’d only have to be in the cold a minute or two.
She wanted to say something more to him, wanted to beg him to change his mind, wanted to tell him how much she hated him. Instead she simply opened the door.
“Eleanor,” Søren said before she left the car.
She looked at him and saw the faintest look of anguish in his eyes.
“What?”
“This will hurt me more than it hurts you.”
“Good.”
She left him alone in the back of the Rolls.
As quietly as she could, she took the spare key from under the mat and unlocked the back door. She locked the door behind her and started when she heard a voice in the dark.
“Do I even want to know where you’ve been?” her mother asked.
Eleanor slowly turned to face her mother, who flipped on the kitchen light. Once more Eleanor was bathed in the fluorescent lights of an interrogation.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to stay out so late.”
Her mother stood in the doorway wearing her dingy white bathroom and slippers. Disappointment lined her mouth.
“That’s not an answer.”
Eleanor weighed her words and decided to try the truth, at least half of the truth.
“Dad called. He said he was about to get sentenced. This might be my last chance to see him.”
“You went to see your father? Oh, Elle.”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m sorry. I missed him. But it was stupid. He didn’t want to see me. He wanted me to lie for him. I ran out and left my coat behind.”
“I could have believed that once. But this doesn’t really help your case.”
She pointed to the side of Eleanor’s neck, where Lachlan had bitten her earlier. She must have a hickey the size of Delaware from how hard he’d bitten and kissed her.
Fuck.
“Mom, nothing happened. I swear I didn’t—”
“I don’t care.” Her mother raised her hand. “I don’t care anymore. I told you the night you got arrested that if you pulled something like that again I was done with you. Now I come home from work and you’re gone. No note. Nothing. I call Jordan’s and you’re not there. School. Church. Gone.”
“I got lost in the city. It took me a while to figure out how to get home.”
“I didn’t want to do this, Eleanor. I never wanted to do this. Not like this anyway. But perhaps the Bible was right in this instance—spare the rod, spoil the child.”
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
“You going to hit me?”
“Not tonight,” he said simply. “The night we made our little bargain, I told you there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I meant it. Which is why you’ll have to forgive me doing this now.”
“Doing what?”
“Raro solus, nunquam duo, semper tres.” Søren sounded as if he were quoting something.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s an old Jesuit rule they beat into us. Figuratively, of course. It means ‘rarely alone, never two, always three.’ The Jesuits have rules against what they call particular friendships. In seminary we were to talk in groups of three or more. It’s considered dangerous to be alone with another person, even another priest.”
“Why? They thought you’d start having crazy g*y sex the minute you were alone together?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No. Although I was propositioned more than once.”
“Color me surprised.”
“But still, I thought it a pointless rule. I understand it now. You and I have a particular friendship. And it has to end.”
“End?” Her voice broke on the word.
“I told you if you watered that stick every day for six months, I’d answer your questions. You failed in this task. You will not be rewarded. I told you that you had to obey me forever, and I would give you everything. You disobeyed me and went to your father and now you’re suffering the consequences. For the foreseeable future, Diane will monitor your community service. This particular friendship of ours will cease until that day comes that I’m certain you are mature enough to be in an adult relationship. And by adult I do not mean sexual. I mean a relationship between equal partners.”
“What do you mean? We can’t be friends anymore?”
“Unfortunately, yes, that is what I mean. Of course, I’ll still be your priest. And if and when you need a priest, I’ll be here for you, but only in that capacity. Go, Eleanor. Go be a normal teenager for a year or two. Go grow up.”
“A year or two?” It sounded like the worst prison sentence imaginable. No more long talks in the choir loft? No more help with her homework? No more cocoa when she was fighting with her math homework?
“I’m your priest, not your babysitter.”
Eleanor only looked at him. Even in the faint light of a passing streetlamp, she could see how hard his eyes had turned. His face was as cold and stony as granite. All affection, all concern, all mercy had drained from his expression.
“You’re a cold bastard,” she said, refusing to let another tear fall. “You know that, right?”
“I do. And it is for the best you know it now, as well.”
The Rolls-Royce pulled up at the end of her street, far enough away her mother wouldn’t see where she’d come from, close enough she’d only have to be in the cold a minute or two.
She wanted to say something more to him, wanted to beg him to change his mind, wanted to tell him how much she hated him. Instead she simply opened the door.
“Eleanor,” Søren said before she left the car.
She looked at him and saw the faintest look of anguish in his eyes.
“What?”
“This will hurt me more than it hurts you.”
“Good.”
She left him alone in the back of the Rolls.
As quietly as she could, she took the spare key from under the mat and unlocked the back door. She locked the door behind her and started when she heard a voice in the dark.
“Do I even want to know where you’ve been?” her mother asked.
Eleanor slowly turned to face her mother, who flipped on the kitchen light. Once more Eleanor was bathed in the fluorescent lights of an interrogation.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to stay out so late.”
Her mother stood in the doorway wearing her dingy white bathroom and slippers. Disappointment lined her mouth.
“That’s not an answer.”
Eleanor weighed her words and decided to try the truth, at least half of the truth.
“Dad called. He said he was about to get sentenced. This might be my last chance to see him.”
“You went to see your father? Oh, Elle.”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m sorry. I missed him. But it was stupid. He didn’t want to see me. He wanted me to lie for him. I ran out and left my coat behind.”
“I could have believed that once. But this doesn’t really help your case.”
She pointed to the side of Eleanor’s neck, where Lachlan had bitten her earlier. She must have a hickey the size of Delaware from how hard he’d bitten and kissed her.
Fuck.
“Mom, nothing happened. I swear I didn’t—”
“I don’t care.” Her mother raised her hand. “I don’t care anymore. I told you the night you got arrested that if you pulled something like that again I was done with you. Now I come home from work and you’re gone. No note. Nothing. I call Jordan’s and you’re not there. School. Church. Gone.”
“I got lost in the city. It took me a while to figure out how to get home.”
