The Saint
“Eleanor, I told you not to leave your room alone.”
She winced.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go back.”
“No, you can come in. Shut the door behind you.”
She stepped into the room, shut the door and locked it.
Søren started to speak as she proceeded on nervous feet from the door to his chair. She found nowhere to sit but on the floor, so she sat at his feet and found herself at home there. He laid his hand on the back of her neck and twined his fingers in her hair. His fingertips traced circles on the nape of her neck. For a long time she did nothing but rest her head on his knee. She could live at his feet. She could die at his feet. If she’d had more courage, she would have told him that.
Eleanor looked up at him. He raised an arm and crooked a finger at her. She rose off the floor and sank into his lap, into his arms. His mouth found hers and in the dark and the moonlight they kissed for the first time.
The kiss surrounded her like air, held her up like water, supported her like the earth and burned her like fire. She’d read about passion, about hunger, about desire, and had felt them herself. But never had she tasted them in her own mouth.
Søren slid a hand under the back of her shirt and caressed her lower back as he feasted on her mouth. She relaxed into his arms, surrendering herself to him and the kiss. He wore his suit pants and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and Eleanor could finally touch his neck that forever seemed to be covered by his Roman collar. She pressed her fingers into his throat, felt his pulse beating against her hand, hard but steady.
He pulled away and they gazed at each other.
“You can say it now,” she said, her voice low and reverent.
“I love you, Little One.”
She relaxed into his arms and closed her eyes. He held her close, held her tight. She could have died in that moment and regretted nothing.
“What now?” she asked.
“There are things you need to know.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
Søren laid a hand on her knee and slid it up her leg, stopping only when he encountered her hip.
“Eleanor, you have to understand that what I need to tell you will change everything. This is not some sort of melodramatic exaggeration on my part. It will change how you see me, perhaps even how you see the world. Once you learn the truth it can’t be unlearned, can’t be unheard. Please do not make this decision lightly.”
Eleanor raised her hand to Søren’s face and touched his lips. The kiss had torn down whatever was left of the wall he’d tried to build up between them. From his lips she moved her hand to his cheek dusted with the slightest stubble, to his forehead, where she ran her thumb softly over the tips of his eyelashes. She lowered her hand and spoke two words—not a question but a command.
“Tell me.”
21
Eleanor
ELEANOR WAITED BUT SØREN DIDN’T SPEAK. NOT AT first. He stared out the window into the moonlight as if trying to find comfort in that white light.
“You asked me questions,” he finally said. “I’ll answer them now.”
“About goddamn time.”
“Eleanor.”
“Sorry.”
“We’ll start at the end of your questions. Those are easier,” he said.
“You remember all of them?”
He nodded. “All of them.”
She didn’t quite believe he had all her questions memorized. She didn’t even remember them all. Once again he proved himself when he raised his hand and with one finger drew a number twelve in the air.
“Number twelve. Am I in love with you? I already answered that question tonight. If you need to hear it again, then yes, I am in love with you, Little One, and have been since the day we met.”
“Since we met?”
“It would almost be accurate to say I loved you before we met. But that’s another story for another night.”
Eleanor took a few breaths.
“I thought …” She stopped and shrugged. “I fell in love with you the second I saw you. Glad I’m not the only one.”
“No. You’re certainly not the only one. Now question eleven—who am I? By the time I’m finished answering all these questions, you’ll know.”
He drew a ten in the air.
“When will I keep my end of the deal?” he said, reciting her question. “The deal that I’ll give you everything, including but not limited to sex, I assume.”
“Sex specifically, but I’ll take what you’ve got.”
“Not tonight,” he said. “I know it seems parochial to you, but I would prefer we wait as long as possible. There’s so much you still need to experience, so many decisions you need to make. I’ll try to make the waiting as easy as possible. But you’re not even out of high school yet. You should focus on graduating, getting into college. Once you’re on that path, we’ll talk about this again.”
Eleanor sighed heavily. Disappointment warred with the joy of finally getting her answers.
“Fair enough. I can’t say I want to wait. I’ve wanted to be with you from the beginning. But I’m not surprised, either. I know that it’s not easy—you’re a priest and I’m a—”
“Constant temptation.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is. Also, there’s a very good reason for waiting. We’ll come to that with questions four and two. But now question nine, where you confess you’re a virgin and ask me if I’m, and I quote, ‘okay with that’?”