The Mistress
CHECKMATE
46
THE QUEEN
December 21, eighteen months later
Nora tied a red ribbon around the box and using scissors and tape fashioned an elaborate bow. Céleste showed much more interest in the boxes than the presents so Nora made sure to give Kingsley’s daughter the best boxes in the world. Christmas was so much more fun this year now that she had children to buy presents for. Kingsley and Juliette’s little girl had come screaming into the world only two months before Zach and Grace’s son, Fionn. A boy and a girl. Perfect. She was already planning their first date.
“So I got my tickets to Paris. I leave the day after Christmas. You’re not going to miss me too much, are you?”
Søren turned around on the piano bench to face her. He’d been playing Christmas music all morning while she decorated the tree and wrapped the gifts. Hard to believe it would be Søren’s last Christmas at Sacred Heart.
“I’ll try to survive your absence. No promises.”
“Be strong. I’m only gone one week.”
“Are you going to tell me why you’re going back to France?”
Nora didn’t answer at first. She hadn’t told anyone about Marie-Laure’s revelation that Kingsley had an illegitimate son living somewhere in the south of France. Marie-Laure might have been lying, playing with Nora’s emotions. She didn’t want to set Kingsley up for disappointment. Instead, she’d quietly hired a detective to find Nicolas. She’d seen a few pictures and he certainly looked like he could be Kingsley’s son. But she wouldn’t know for certain until she looked him in the eyes. Kingsley had taken to fatherhood better than anyone could have dreamed. Céleste had the most doting French papa in the world. Why not give the little girl the gift of a brother? Anyway, she had to try. From the moment she’d learned about Nicolas she felt possessive of him as if he were her own. The day after Christmas she’d meet Zach in Paris and together they’d hunt the kid down. Zach had lived in France a few years and knew the country much better than she did. Plus Grace had promised her a week with him. She planned to cash that chip in and find Kingsley’s other progeny.
“I’m looking for something,” she said to Søren, and left it at that.
“Something?”
“I’ll tell you when I find it. If I find it.”
“You’re being mysterious.”
“Entirely on purpose and mainly to annoy you.”
“It’s working.”
“You know I’m a writer. I can’t tell you everything in the beginning. Then there’s no point to the story.”
“But you will tell me?”
“Eventually, I promise. Soon as I get back.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Søren came over to the tree and surveyed her work. “Very good work on the tree. I see you managed to avoid any inappropriate ornaments this year.”
“I’m still putting the Christmas shark up on the tree when I find it. What is Christmas without the Christmas shark?”
“I can’t even begin to answer a question of such theological import without at least a week of prayer and fasting first.” He raised his hand to the little plastic hart that hung on a silver string from one of the higher branches. She’d given him the little hart years ago as a Christmas gift. Every year it had found its way onto his Christmas tree.
“Can you hand me that box over there? I have to wrap Fionn’s last gift.”
Søren handed her a small box and Nora shook her head.
“The other one please.”
“No...I think that’s the right box.”
Nora looked up at him suspiciously. She put her scissors down and studied the small box wrapped in red paper.
“It’s your birthday, not mine.”
“Open the box, Eleanor.”
“I’m supposed to give you presents.”
“You’ve already given me your present. Now it’s your turn.”
“What is it?”
“I have no idea,” Søren said. “I suppose you’ll have to open it to find out.”
Nora removed the red paper and found to her delight, and horror, a tiny black box on the inside.
“Oh, my Lord.”
“Open it, Little One. Don’t be scared.”
She opened the box and found a silver necklace on a bed of velvet. On the chain hung two silver bands.
“Søren, not this again...” she warned.
“They’re wedding bands.”
“I know they are. We can’t get married. We get married and you get excommunicated. That’s how it works. I’ve been excommunicated before. It’s not fun.”
“You are worth the risk.”
Nora picked up the rings and noticed the engraving on the bands. One word on each ring. Her ring said Forever. It was the promise she’d made him that night so long ago when he’d pulled her ass out of the fire. She didn’t even have to look to know his ring bore the promise he made her. Everything. The fire of her teenage infatuation with Søren had burned itself out years ago. In its flames a love made of iron had been forged. It could survive any blow, any trial. Even this trial.
“I made God a deal a long time ago,” she said, meeting Søren’s eyes. “If I didn’t take you from the church He wouldn’t take you from me. That’s the one promise I’ve ever made I will die before I break.”