The Saint

“You have to go soon, don’t you?” Nora asked, once they’d both caught their breaths.

“It’s a long drive back, but I’ll stay until you tell me to go.”

She never wanted to tell him he could go. But she knew his vines waited for him and she cared about him too much to keep him from the land and the work that was his raison d’être.

“I think I’m ready now,” she said.

“I’ll come with you,” he whispered. He knew what she needed and offered first, saving her the indignity of having to ask for it.

They rose from bed and bathed together. Nico put on yesterday’s clothes—he’d brought no others with him. She wore a simple white skirt and sweater.

Nico took the urn off the fireplace mantel and put it in her hands. He held the door open for her and side by side they walked the stone path toward the lake. The sun had risen and God had given them a perfect spring morning—cloudless and cold.

They reached the water’s edge and Nora stood so that the lake lapped at her toes.

“I prepared a speech on the plane ride over,” she told Nico. “Seems stupid now. I tried to say it yesterday and could only get one word out.”

“Say it now. I want to hear it.”

She swallowed and nodded. Then she began.

“Søren …” She paused and let the pain claw at her. The dead felt no pleasure, but they felt no pain, either. Pain, too, was proof of life. “Søren isn’t here. I know you wouldn’t want him here so I didn’t ask him to come with me.”

She stopped again, breathed again.

“You should take that as a sign of how much I love you, that I didn’t ask him to come with me.”

Another breath.

“You never should have hated him. I think I hated you a little because of how much you hated him. But that was unfair of me, and I’m sorry. After all, you’re the reason we’re together. If you hadn’t made me go to church that day, practically tricked me into going to church that day, I would never have met him. But you know what’s funny about you and him?”

Nora closed her eyes. A tear escaped and dropped into the water at her feet.

“I still remember on the way to church that morning, you asked a question. You said, ‘All I ever wanted was a daughter who loves God, goes to church, respects her priest and maybe even respects her mother a little. You think that’s too much to ask?’ Well, Mom, I go to church every Sunday. Did you know that? And I not only respect my priest, I love him with all my heart. And I do respect my mother, too. More than a little. She put up with me for thirty-six years. I think you probably qualify for sainthood at this point.”

Nico stepped forward and with his bare hands wiped the tears off her face.

She looked into his pale green eyes.

“She thanked me, you know,” Nora said. “The mother superior of her order called me two weeks ago and said, ‘Come now if you want to see your mother this side of heaven.’ I left immediately. Got there just in time. She was already going in and out of consciousness. But she woke up enough to recognize me. That’s when she thanked me.”

“For what? For coming?”

“For being a bad daughter,” Nora said, laughing. “Mom smoked until I was eleven years old. She caught me trying to smoke one of her cigarettes. That’s when she quit. That might have given her a few extra years, quitting. By the time they found the cancer, it had spread all over her. She didn’t even have any symptoms. Only a cough.”

“Be grateful you had those few hours. My father dropped dead in the fields.”

“What would you say to him if you could say anything?” she asked.

“Blood might be thicker than water, but wine is thicker than blood,” Nico said.

It was over a cup of communion wine that she’d first looked into her Father’s eyes.

“That is it,” she said.

She turned back to the water before her—the expanse of lake so clear and blue and cold. She wished the water weren’t so cold.

“A nun for a mother. A priest for a lover. Søren, now I can hear God laughing at me.”

“He’s laughing at me, too,” Nico said. They both knew why.

“I wish we could have found a way to be friends,” she said as if her mother could hear her. “I wish we could have known each other better. But you never told me your story. I wish you had listened to mine. If you’d heard the story I told Nico last night you would know that Søren was the best thing that ever happened to me, that he wasn’t the monster you wanted to believe he was. I am glad I left him, though, ten years ago. At least you and I got to spend a little time together.”

She stopped once more to breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe?

“You probably thought I was angry at you all this time,” Nora continued. “And that’s why I stayed away from you. But the truth was I wasn’t angry. I’d worked so hard to become another person and the minute we were together, I was Ellie, your disappointment of a daughter again. I hope the view is good from where you are right now, and you can look down and see that my life is beautiful and rich and full of the love of generous and noble people and that my days are filled with work that is fulfilling and worthwhile and my nights are even better and none of your business.”

Nico laughed softly next to her. She wished she could take his hand, but the box weighed her down. She would let it weigh her down no longer.