The Mistress

“And she went back. She loves you. She told me how much she loves you.”

“She loves Wesley, too. They can be together. He can give her everything. She’ll want for nothing.”

“She’ll want for you.”

Grace broke on the last word and the tears poured from her like wine from a broken cask. Søren held her again, held her close.

“Listen to me,” he said into her ear. “I need you to be strong for her. I’m not sure what will have happened to her while they had her. Make her tell you, make her take care of herself. She hates going to the doctor. Take her even if it’s against her will. Promise me you’ll do that for her, for me.”

“I will,” she pledged. How could she ever say no to him?

“Laila’s here for a reason. For Laila, Eleanor will stay strong. She’ll take care of Laila so you have to take care of Eleanor for me.”

Grace nodded, her face buried against his shoulder. Now she knew why Søren had insisted Wesley and Laila and even she should come along with him and Kingsley. Søren had known he would do this, known all along. He wanted Nora to be surrounded by love after Søren had died for her. They were plan B.

“When the time comes, tell her that she and Wesley...they have my blessing. He’s a good man, a good person, and he’ll love her. That’s all that matters...that he loves her.”

Grace clung to Søren’s shoulders, felt the smoothness of the black fabric under her fingers, the muscle in his arms under the fabric. She wanted to tell him something, wanted to tell him that she loved him, too, although it made no sense, none at all. This love went deeper than affection or attraction or romance or family. Something stranger, stronger, wilder... It felt like faith.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you. Let me walk with you, please. At least a little while.”

Søren said nothing at first. He closed his eyes and Grace could do nothing but cling to his hand.

“Would you? I would like that.”

They left the house and stepped out into the newborn morning. They walked along the road and no cars passed them. At first Grace tried not to cry, tried to stay strong for him as he’d asked. But she couldn’t stop the tears.

“I’ve always wondered if it would come to this,” Søren said after twenty or thirty minutes of walking. “When I was in seminary in Rome, I had a friend. She taught me everything I know.”

“Everything?” Grace tried to smile, tried and failed.

“She could kill a fly with the tip of a whip. After a few months under her tutelage, so could I.”

“Who was she?”

“She ran an order of women.”

“A convent?”

He smiled.

“A brothel.”

Grace laughed. It hurt to laugh.

“Her name was Magdalena. That’s what she said it was. I didn’t believe her. I never asked her real name, never told her mine. I would run away to her house of ill repute at least once a week. Can you imagine? A young seminarian, a Jesuit-in-training, spending his evenings surrounded by the most notorious prostitutes in Rome. Her young ladies catered to a very specific clientele. I received quite an education in that house.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“When it was time for me to leave Rome and come to America, Magdalena took me aside. She always claimed to be part-Gypsy. It might have been true, not that it mattered. She got paid to tell lies to men. She said she would miss me, although she would be glad to see me go. Apparently some of her clients were not pleased to have a Jesuit hanging about.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“But Magdalena, she wanted to tell me my fortune before I left.”

“What did she tell you?” Grace tightened her grip on his hand, knowing the moment she let him go would be the moment she let him go forever.

“She said that I would go to America and I would be sent somewhere I didn’t want to go. But there I would meet a queen in disguise. And it would be a very good disguise, so good only I would recognize her. And she said this queen would be two things to me. She would be my heart. And she would be my penance.”

He stopped walking and Grace knew this was where he would leave her. She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him everything in her heart. But she had no words, none for him. She would have rather seen every stained-glass window in the world shatter into shards, every church, every cathedral, fall into ruin, and see every holy book in the world dissolve into dust, than see any harm come to this man. As long as he lived there would be God in the world even if all the temples burned.

“I left a note for Kingsley in the library,” Søren said as casually as if he’d said he needed his dry cleaning picked up. “Please see that he gets it. Don’t tell them where I’ve gone. I don’t want Laila...” He paused then, as if he couldn’t bring himself to speak the next words.

“I’ll take care of your girl...both of your girls.”

Søren nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

He started to pull away but Grace couldn’t quite let go yet. She grabbed his hand again and held it to her heart.

“I have to tell you something,” she said, and he met her eyes.

“Last call for confessions.”

“I love my husband more than life itself. And there’s no one in the world other than Zachary who I want to grow old with. I want to have his children and be his wife and stay with him for the rest of my days. But the truth is...” She paused for courage and found it in him. “I would have sold my soul for one night with you.”