The Mistress
“That’s what it is exactly. You put all the sins of the husband and wife, of the marriage, onto the head of the other woman. You pray she will go away forever and take all that misery with her and leave your husband behind.”
“You wanted to reconcile with Zachary?”
“Yes. So much. Which is why, at first, I was angry with everyone but him. There were dozens of other women. The job was another woman I blamed. Zachary’s boss, John-Paul Bonner. I blamed him. He knew we were having problems and he took advantage of that. America...she was the trollop that had seduced my husband away from me.”
“The whole country?”
Grace grinned. “Yes. I blamed the entire country. Typical bitter wife behavior. And then he mentioned Nora Sutherlin on the phone, one of his writers, he said. But he said it with heat. I looked her up, saw a picture of that beautiful woman. Then I hated her. But that didn’t work for me, the scapegoat game. The sins were still there in the marriage. They couldn’t be driven out so easily simply by blaming J. P. Bonner or Nora or the entire bloody country. I knew that if I wanted Zachary back, and I did, I couldn’t blame anyone but us. Our problems were my fault. Our problems were his fault. Our problems were our fault, not hers.”
“It takes a wise person to realize this. I’ve counseled many married couples who never see the truth of that. They blame everyone but the real culprit.”
“I didn’t want to see the truth of it. But I had to. Made a fatal mistake when I came rushing to New York.”
“You met Eleanor.”
Grace raised the glass in a salute.
“I met Eleanor. And instead of the ‘other woman,’ she was Nora to me. Beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, understanding Nora. She’s impossible to hate. My God, I showed up at her house like a madwoman hunting down my husband, and she gave me tea and told me Zachary was still in love with me. You asked me why I don’t hate her. All I wanted was my husband back. I got him back. That’s all any wife wants.”
Søren stood up and looked away from her, looked into the darkening woods around them. And as if someone else had said them, Grace heard her own words.
She’s the scapegoat... We know she’s not the one to blame... All I wanted was my husband back...that’s all any wife wants.
“Marie-Laure,” Grace said as a terrible realization dawned on her. “She doesn’t want Nora at all, does she?”
At first Søren said nothing to her question.
“No,” he finally answered.
“She would have kept Laila if Nora hadn’t volunteered to stay. She didn’t care if it was your lover or your niece she had as long as it was someone you loved.”
Søren’s mouth tightened into a hard line.
“What did the note say?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. What did it say? Tell me, please.”
“It said something to the effect of ‘Dear Husband, Have you missed me? I’ve certainly missed you. I have someone here you love. If you want this loved one of yours to keep breathing, I would highly suggest you and I mend this rift between us. It’s a big decision. Take your time. But don’t take too long. You have until noon on Friday. Love always, Your devoted wife. P.S. Tell my brother, Love thy sister.’”
Grace couldn’t speak for a moment. She had to let his words sink in.
“She wants you,” Grace said at last.
“She does.”
“How were you supposed to find her? I know Laila told us but what if she didn’t recognize the room?”
“‘Love thy sister...’ Last week someone broke into my sister Elizabeth’s house and wrote those words on my childhood bedroom wall in ashes.”
“You knew from the note where Nora was, not from Laila and her locket. Marie-Laure wanted you to know.”
“She wants me to come to her. If anyone but me goes, she’ll kill Eleanor.”
“You can’t go. This woman has killed before. Wesley told me she murdered a teenage girl. She’ll kill you, too.”
“Or worse.”
“What’s worse than being killed?”
Søren held out his hand and Grace gave him the glass of wine. He raised it to his lips and drank it down in one swallow.
Grace waited. Søren never answered the question.
23
THE QUEEN
In all her twenty years on God’s green earth, Eleanor had never been so nervous. Not even waiting for the judge to hand down a sentence on her for five counts of grand theft auto had been as terrifying as the prospect of sex with someone other than Søren. She’d met Søren, and her teenage plan to lose her virginity as soon as humanly possible hit a six-foot-four, blond wall of celibacy. No amount of flirting, begging or attempted seduction could entice Søren into divesting her of her virginity at age fifteen or sixteen, seventeen...eighteen. She had high hopes for nineteen but even then he held back. Years later she finally realized what he’d been doing by making her wait so long. He’d given her a reason to leave him. A very good reason. He loved her enough to let her go even before he’d had her. And she’d loved him enough to wait for him.
Waited for him she had, and now she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Her first night with Søren felt as natural as breathing, so natural that she couldn’t imagine that she’d ever feel comfortable being with anyone else. His hands belonged on her, his mouth on her mouth. He was the only man she wanted inside her...but Søren was adamant, unyielding.