0778318435 (A)

by Tiffany Reisz

  Nora answered in a word.

  “Exhausting.”

  Once in her car, Nora called Juliette and had her dig up Thorny’s address. She arrived a little after nine and prayed he was home and not out on a job with a client. She tried not to think about how much it hurt knowing he’d fucked her solely to blackmail her. He’d used her and Nora wasn’t a fan of getting used. Not like this anyway. She did the using, not the other way around. It wouldn’t have hurt nearly so much except she’d enjoyed it, enjoyed having a boyfriend for a day, enjoyed waking up with someone in her bed and cooking breakfast together and changing the sheets and watching TV on the couch. It had all been an act, but it had been a good act and maybe she was just angry at herself for wanting something she couldn’t have so much she’d fallen for the act.

  She knocked on the door to Thorny’s apartment and waited. He opened it and she saw the fear on his face when he looked at her.

  “Crisis averted,” she said, and handed him his phone.

  “Oh, thank fuck.” He kissed his phone and shoved it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

  “Take this, too,” she said. “It’s Milady’s driver’s license. It’s expired but that’s still her address. Don’t use it to hurt her. She’s agreed to back off all of us. But it’s insurance.”

  “You’re a goddess, Mistress.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I’m leaving? That’s something you don’t know.”

  “Leaving?”

  “I told Nadia what happened. She was freaked out but not angry. She said that the big hospital out in Seattle offered her a job a while back. They still want her. She’s going to take it so we’re moving out there. Fresh start where nobody knows who I am.”

  “Good idea. Seattle’s beautiful. Just watch out for volcanoes.”

  “I already have this waiting to erupt in my head,” he said, tapping his temple. “What’s one more volcano?”

  “I’m glad you’re going with her. Gather ye rosebuds, right?”

  “Well, you know that old Bible verse—I go where she goes—or whatever it is. I haven’t been to church in a long time so don’t quote me on that.”

  “You’re butchering the poor Book of Ruth. She and Naomi deserve better than that.”

  “Were they fucking?”

  Nora pursed her lips at him. “No. Ruth was Naomi’s daughter-in-law. Naomi’s husband died, and both her sons. She told her two daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah—”

  “Oprah?”

  “Orpah. She was a Moabite, not a talk-show host. Anyway, Naomi told Ruth and Orpah to go back to their families and find new husbands and start new lives. Orpah went away but Ruth refused to leave Naomi. What she said to Naomi was, ‘Do not ask me to leave you or forsake you / For wherever you go, I go...’”

  “What?”

  Nora stopped. She cocked her head. She laughed.

  “That’s it,” she said.

  “What’s it?”

  “Nothing.” She looked at Thorny and grinned. “I mean, everything. I just figured something out. Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you, Thorny.”

  “Couldn’t have done what?”

  “I hope you and Nadia have a very long and sexy life together. I have to go.”

  “Don’t go. I owe you...so much. I owe you a ton. I can pay you or something?”

  “You just helped me figure out how to save my priest.” She patted him on the cheek and resisted the urge to slap it just once to punish him for fucking her over. Considering how many men she’d used for sex the past couple of years, she gave him a pass. It had been very good sex after all.

  Nora left Thorny and ran to her car. Tomorrow Søren was taking his Final Vows. The day after he’d leave her for Syria and for the rest of his life.

  She turned on her car but she didn’t drive home.

  Søren had told her two years ago to finish her Ruth story.

  Tomorrow she would finally write the ending.

  33

  Final Vows

  ON THE MORNING of the last Sunday in August, Nora stepped into the two-hundred-year-old Jesuit church in Harlem where Søren and fourteen other veteran Jesuits would take their Final Vows that day. Half an hour before the service began the pews already creaked with the weight of friends and family packed shoulder to shoulder waiting to watch their priests take the last vows they’d ever take in their lives. If they made it this far, they weren’t likely to leave the order. They’d been in it for twenty years at least, each and every one of them, and they’d decided to stay in the Jesuits until the end. Søren would die a Jesuit. That was what she wanted for him, because that’s what he wanted for himself. But he could be a Jesuit here, close to her and Kingsley. He didn’t have to go across the world to a war zone to do it. She’d give everything to keep him here, keep him safe.

  And if everything was what he asked, everything was what she’d give him.

  Nora walked nervously down the center aisle, the red carpet runner beneath her feet muffling the sound of her kitten heels on the hardwood. She looked for a seat somewhere close but not too close, where she could see but not be seen. Too late. A hand snaked out from a pew on the right and grabbed her wrist. Nora started and looked into the eyes of a young woman with dark hair cut in a stylish bob and a wearing a dress that cost more than Nora’s monthly mortgage payment.

  “Don’t you dare act like you don’t remember me,” the woman said, her voice stern and imperious—exactly like her brother’s.

  “Claire.” Nora felt the profoundest sense of relief when Claire wrapped her in a near painful embrace.

  “Elle,” Claire breathed. “Too long.”

  “Way too long,” Nora agreed, swallowing hard.

  “You have to help me.” Claire sounded scared, desperate.

  “I will,” Nora said.

  “You will?”

  Nora nodded against Claire’s shoulder.

  “I do love him,” Nora said. “I didn’t leave him because I stopped loving him.”

  “I know,” Claire said. “No could stop loving him once they start.”

  Claire released her from the crushing hug, but held on to Nora’s hand. She didn’t seem ready or willing to let it go and Nora was grateful to her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Claire said. She had tears on her face. “I can’t do this alone.”

  “I didn’t want to come.”

  “Neither did I,” Claire said. “But I can’t tell him no.”

  “Did you ask him not to leave?” Nora asked.

  “I didn’t ask, I begged.” Claire stared straight ahead. She and Søren both had similar profiles—the same ears, the same cheekbones, the same ironic tilt to the mouth when they smiled. But Claire wasn’t smiling.

  “Did he tell you anything about why he’s going?”

  “One of the priests who visited him after his motorcycle accident is going, too. He’s the one who asked him to go. I can’t believe he said yes.” Claire squeezed Nora’s hand harder.

  “I can,” Nora said. She didn’t want to believe it, but she could. She’d left him. Kingsley had staked his claim on her. She’d refused to return to him. What was keeping him here? Nothing.

  “What are we going to do?” Claire asked.

  “Pray.”

  “Will it help?” Claire asked.

  “It won’t hurt.”

  The music started, a hymn Nora recognized. “Be Thou My Vision.”

  All at once the entire assembly rose to their feet. Nora glanced around as everyone sang the hymn looking for any familiar faces. At last she found a row of them standing in the balcony.

  “Did he pick the music?” Nora asked Claire.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “This is his favorite hymn.”

  “His church seems to know it well.” Claire turned her head and looked up to the balcony. “I can hear them up there singing it.”

  “Who?”

  “Sacred Heart,” Claire said. “Th
ey’re all in the balcony. Over a hundred of them came.”

  Nora looked back and up and saw faces she recognized including Diane’s and Diane’s family. She should be up there, Nora thought. She should be with Søren’s church. But she couldn’t be. She hadn’t just left him, she’d left them, too.

  “That’s a third of the entire church,” she whispered to Claire.

  “See?” Claire said. “Told you. Once you start loving him, you can never stop.”

  Nora did love him and she would never stop loving him, which was why when he and the other fourteen Jesuits walked down the aisle and he turned his head to look at her, she smiled for him. He didn’t smile back, but she could tell he wanted to. She wished Kingsley were here to hold her other hand, but she didn’t blame him for not coming. He’d had to stand idly by and watch Søren marry Kingsley’s sister years ago. He couldn’t and wouldn’t stand idly by and watch the only man he’d ever loved pledge himself to yet another rival.

  The Final Vows ceremony involved a full Mass and all fifteen priests assisted. They looked almost angelic in their off-white vestments lined up side by side. They were a motley crew from all over the world—Africa, Asia, South America, Mexico and the United States. Søren was one of the younger ones but not the youngest. Most definitely the handsomest. At least her in opinion.

  When it came time for Communion, Nora went forward. She hadn’t taken Communion since before she left Søren. So it was fitting that she walked to his line and when he held up the wafer that was the Body of Christ, she let him place it on her tongue. When she swallowed it she felt an old wound she’d forgotten about. Then the old wound was gone, healed. The fissure in her heart sealed itself up and scarred over. The church sang a new hymn and the words spoke to her heart—Come home, come home...ye who are weary come home.

  Old words. Trite words. And yet they cut Nora’s soul to the quick.

  Nora was weary. And Nora did want to go home.

  One by one each of the fifteen priests made their vows. When Søren knelt to speak his vows, Nora breathed in at the sight—the rare sight—of Søren, penitent and humble. When he spoke the vows, his voice was strong and clear and unwavering. His words carried throughout the church like an updraft and if Nora had wings she would have been able to fly.

  “I, Marcus Lennox Stearns, make my profession, and I promise to Almighty God, in the presence of the Virgin Mother, the whole heavenly court and all those here present, and to you, Reverend Father Haas, representing the Superior General of the Society of Jesus and his successor and holding the place of God, perpetual poverty, chastity and obedience...”

  The vow recitation continued until every last priest had said his final commitment. The rest of the Mass passed in a haze. In the heat and the humidity and the fear she would fail at her task, Nora could barely concentrate on the words. Not that it mattered. She knew the Catholic Mass by heart. The words were tattooed on her mind and branded on her soul. She rattled them off without thinking.

  When the final hymn was sung and the time came for everyone to leave, Claire put her arm around Nora’s waist and together they walked down the aisle. A few minutes later the fifteen priests who’d taken their public and private vows appeared on the street to be greeted by their loved ones.

  “Go,” Nora said to Claire. “You’re the only family he has here. He’ll want you to meet his church.”

  “Can I see you again?” Claire asked. “He’s leaving and I don’t...” She stopped and swallowed hard, catching her breath. “I’d like to be around someone who knows him and loves him. I know it’s not the best idea but would you consider it?”

  “Maybe lunch?”

  “I’d like that.” Claire smiled and Nora could see her fighting tears.

  “So would I.”

  “Are you going to talk to him?” Claire asked, desperation in her eyes and hope in her voice.

  “I’ll wait until he’s alone. Go. He needs you.”

  “He needs you,” Claire said. “But I’ll go tackle-hug him in my own special way. He probably needs that, too, even if he won’t admit it.”

  “But be gentle. He’s still recovering from the accident.”

  “I’ll tackle-hug him gently,” Claire said and squeezed Nora’s hand one more time before releasing her. She ran to Søren, and Nora laughed as she saw Claire, now a grown woman of twenty-nine, throw herself into her big brother’s arms the way she had all those years ago when Nora had gone with him to his father’s funeral. Nora was grateful for Claire’s presence in his life. She was Søren’s solid ground, and she had a gift for taking that pompous priest and turning him back into a human being with one tackle-hug and a playful insult.

  “Frater!” Claire said, clinging to him as if she’d die the second she let go of him.

  “Behave yourself, Soror,” Søren said, patting her on top of her head. “Don’t scare my congregation. They’re under the impression you’re the normal one in the family, and we wouldn’t want to disillusion them.”

  From a distance of about twenty feet, Nora watched as Søren introduced Claire to every member of Sacred Heart who’d come to his profession of Final Vows. Nora could see from their faces and hear from their words that none of them knew yet Søren was leaving forever that week. Knowing Søren he’d decided to depart without a long drawn-out goodbye. No going-away parties. No fanfare. Only an announcement from the pulpit made by the interim priest that Father Marcus Stearns had been called to the mission field. He sends his love and asks for your prayers.

  With any help from God and a little luck, no one would be making that announcement.

  When at last the final parishioner had give Søren a handshake or a hug or a kiss on the cheek, Nora stepped out of the shadows and walked to him. Claire said something in his ear and walked away after throwing Nora one last pleading look.

  An eerie calm came over Nora. A calm and a focus that seemed to come from outside herself. She was a woman on a mission and the mission was all that mattered.

  She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a folded rectangle of paper.

  “I’m glad you came, Eleanor,” Søren said. “It’s good to see you in church again.”

  They were in public. The chance of being overheard was too great to speak the truth to each other. They’d hide behind platitudes and code words. But she didn’t have to hide, not with what she wanted to say to him.

  “It was good to be in church again. Maybe I’m not so lapsed after all.”

  “I could have told you that,” he said. “Claire’s taking me to dinner this evening if you’d like to join us. I think you two would get along swimmingly.”

  “I have other plans. Just wanted to stop by and give you something.”

  “You don’t give a gift to a priest upon taking Final Vows,” he said. “It’s not like a First Communion.”

  “What I want to give you is a Bible verse. I memorized it for you. Is that an acceptable gift?”

  “Always,” he said. “What’s the verse?”

  “The Book of Ruth, chapter one, verses sixteen and seventeen.” Nora took a breath and recited by heart. “‘Do not ask me to leave you or forsake you for wherever you go I will go, wherever you stay I will stay, your people shall be my people and your God my God. Wherever you die, there I will be buried. May the Lord do so and more beside if anything but death separates us.’”

  Then she handed him the folded piece of paper from her pocket, the one she’d acquired on her very special errand.

  “Eleanor, this is an airplane ticket in your name.”

  “Destination Syria,” she said. “Where you go, I go. If you go to Syria, I go with you. And I won’t come home until you come home. I will not leave you. I will not forsake you. Where you die, I will be buried. And those are my Final Vows.”

  Then she took her ticket out of his hand, turned and walked away.

  She meant every word of her vow. If he was going into a war zone, she would go, too. Nothing could stop her. Going with
him to Syria was the one trump card left in her hand. She’d made the largest bet of her life, and she wasn’t bluffing.

  Nora went to Kingsley’s town house and found him sitting in his office, staring out the window at nothing, nothing at all.

  Kingsley glanced over his shoulder at her and then turned back to the windows.

  Nora sat on the desk behind him and waited. A moment later Kingsley turned in his chair and rested his head in her lap. He’d fired her two days ago but none of that mattered now. She combed her fingers through his dark hair as if he were a sick child who needed a mother’s touch.

  “How long have you been sitting here brooding?” she asked.

  “For hours.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,” she said, tugging his earlobe.

  “I forget sometimes you need a life outside of work.”

  “I do. But you’ll be happy to know I will never ever be seeing Thorny again during work or after hours.”

  Kingsley took a heavy breath. She felt his chest moving against her knees.

  “That doesn’t make me happy. Relieved, yes. But not happy. I do want you to be happy.” He looked up at her with wounded eyes, open and vulnerable, and she caught a glimpse of the teenage boy he’d been when Søren had first loved him.

  “By going back to Søren?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Why?” Nora touched Kingsley’s face, brushing her fingers over his cheek.

  “It’ll keep him here.”

  Nora tilted his chin up to meet her eyes, dominant talking to submissive now.

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “I miss him,” Kingsley said, whispering the words like a confession. “I miss how things used to be with the three of us. And I know how much he loves you. I wish I could imagine you with someone other than him, but I can’t. I wish I could imagine the three of us moving on and having our own lives without each other, but I can’t. Fuck, I even miss getting shit-faced with him at the rectory. We ended up on the roof once, and I still don’t remember how we got down. I miss him, Elle. It’s not even the sex. We haven’t had sex in over ten years. It’s him. It’s us. It’s our friendship. No, not that.” Kingsley looked up at her with sorrow in his eyes. “He’s all the family I have. If he leaves, he’ll take my family away from me.”