The Saint

“Eleanor?”

“Sorry. I was trying to remember when you’re supposed to use lay versus lie,” she lied.

“Lay requires a direct object and lie does not.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense. Thank you. Also, no. You can’t close the rectory. You’re going to piss off the entire church.”

“I had a feeling. Your prayer service you’re supposed to be at is meeting at the rectory right now. A sanctuary, a chapel, and for some reason neither of those will work.”

“The rectory is cozier. Father Greg always had snacks.”

Søren tapped his knee. “That’s unfortunate, but I’ve made up my mind. It’s important for a pastor to have strong boundaries with his church. I’ll do my best to explain my logic to them.”

“Logic? You’re going to use logic on Catholics?”

“Do you have a better idea?” From anyone else, the question would have sounded sarcastic or like a challenge. But instead from Søren it sounded like a genuine question. If she had a better idea, he wanted to know it.

“Look, I know these people. I grew up with them. They don’t really like outsiders. Everyone’s already freaking out that you’re a Jesuit instead of a regular priest.”

“They’re afraid of Jesuits?”

“They say Jesuits are really …” Eleanor waved her hand to beckon Søren forward. He leaned in and she put her mouth at his ear. “Liberal.”

Søren pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

“I have to tell you a secret.” She leaned in again toward Søren and inhaled. In that inhale she smelled winter, clean and cold, and briefly she wondered if someone had left a window open. “We are liberal.”

He sat back in the pew again and brought a finger to his lips.

“But you didn’t hear that from me,” he said and gave her a wink. Eleanor’s body temperature, already running a low-grade fever from being in the same room as him, shot up even higher. “But that’s beside the point. You were going to give me a better idea than logic.”

“Yeah … no. Logic won’t work. What might work is if you trick the church into thinking closing off the rectory was their idea.”

“How so?”

She shrugged and raised her hands. “I don’t know. Tell them you heard from concerned members of the church who want more rules and safety procedures or whatever?” They were always talking about safety procedures at school. “And you can say you heard the cry of the people and have decided to take their advice and add some new rules so you can keep everyone safe and avoid all appearance of evil. Nobody wants to be in a church with a scandal, right? You’re doing what they asked.”

Søren raised his fingers to his mouth and slowly stroked his bottom lip. It seemed an unconscious gesture, as unconscious as her lip-biting. But whereas her lip-biting apparently made her look like an idiot, his lip-caressing made her want to straddle his lap, wrap her arms around him and put her tongue down his throat.

“So you’re telling me I should manipulate the church into thinking that closing the rectory was a suggestion they made me?”

“Or just flat-out lie. Or lay. Whatever.”

“I could lie. That would be a sin, but I appreciate that suggestion.”

“You don’t sin?”

“I try not to.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t sin?” Søren sounded so skeptical she would have been insulted if he weren’t entirely right to be that skeptical.

“No, I don’t try to not sin.”

Søren closed his eyes and shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

He held up his hand, indicating his need for silence.

“What?” she whispered.

“Do you hear that?”

She tilted her head and listened.

“No. I don’t hear anything. Do you hear something?” she asked Søren.

“I do.”

“What?”

“God laughing at me.”

Eleanor rested her chin on her hand. “You hear God laughing at you?”

“Loudly. I’m quite surprised you can’t hear it.”

“He’s laughing at you, not me,” she said.

“Excellent point. And you made another excellent point about handling the church. I’ll consider your suggestion.”

“You will?”

“It’s a wise and Machiavellian strategy.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. It’s biblical. Matthew 10:16. ‘Behold, I send you forth as a sheep among wolves—be therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.’”

“Sheep among wolves. That makes the church sound dangerous. You think we’re dangerous.”

“I think you’re dangerous.”

Eleanor sat back on her heels. They’d been joking the entire time they’d been in the sanctuary, but what he’d said and how he’d said it? That was no joke.

“Me? Dangerous?” she repeated.

“You. Very.”

“Why?”

“Because you want to be. That’s part of the reason.”

“I also want to be six feet tall and have straight blond hair, but wanting something doesn’t make it real. I’m not dangerous.”

“I’d explain my reasons for saying you are, but I have to get back to packing. I promised Father Gregory’s sister I would have all of his things ready to pick up tomorrow.”