The Mistress

“No wonder it was love at first sight.”

“Love, lust, fear, wonder and joy—such joy. I considered it my mission in life to make sure she survived her teenage years to become the woman I saw in her.”

“Survived? I recall being a teenager as rather difficult, but certainly not life-threatening.”

“Eleanor’s were not the typical teenage years.”

“I don’t believe Nora has had a typical anything her entire life.”

“That would be an accurate statement.”

“If it helps any, I think you did a good job with her. She’s a rather impressive person.”

“I tried not to fail her. Everyone else in her life had—her father was a criminal, her mother considered Eleanor a mistake. It gave me great pleasure to take her from them. More pleasure than I should admit to.”

“You smiled. Would you like me to take the handcuffs off now?”

“I would like that, but I’m still picturing Kingsley in the morgue. And of course, I’m only focusing my anger at him because he’s here. I know I’m not actually angry at him. I keep trying to tell myself that.”

“He was trying to save you from yourself. You are a priest, after all. Can’t be telling the police and the FBI and the whole wide world that someone has your lover.”

“I couldn’t begin to care less what the whole world thinks of my relationship with Eleanor. All that matters is getting her back.”

“Of course,” she said, smoothing her skirt over her knee. “But will the police help? I’m asking a genuine question. If you think they could help, I’ll call them myself and Kingsley be damned.”

Father Stearns turned his eyes from her and exhaled.

“No, they won’t help. They can’t. It’s been thirty years, but I haven’t forgotten what Marie-Laure was like. Obsessive nature. Clearly she wants revenge. On me. On Kingsley. Eleanor will be that instrument of revenge. She’s not trying to steal a jewel and abscond in the night. She wants to hurt us. She’s died before. I don’t think she’s afraid to die again. My fear is that she plans to take Eleanor with her. Police involvement will only put Eleanor’s life at greater risk.”

“Marie-Laure … Kingsley’s sister was your wife?”

“Was … is my wife apparently. Kingsley missed her terribly back when we were in school. After their parents died, he and Marie-Laure had little but each other and even then they were separated by an ocean—she in Paris, he in America. I thought it would make him happy to see her again.”

“She came to your school?”

“I arranged to bring her over. It had been over a year since they’d seen each other—brother and sister. And yet less than a week after being reunited, Marie-Laure simply announced that she was in love with me.”

“That must have been something of a shock. For you and Kingsley.”

“It was an unpleasant shock. My heart was very much elsewhere, but I didn’t want to hurt the girl. Kingsley seemed so happy to have her back with him. I remember that day like yesterday. I’d gone for a walk alone. Marie-Laure followed me, asked if she could join me. We’d barely gone a mile when she stopped and confessed she’d fallen in love with me. I tried to stay calm, rational. I said to her that I was sorry, but I didn’t feel the same. But she shouldn’t take it personally. I told her I wasn’t capable of loving her like someone else could. She said she didn’t care.”

“She cared. I promise, she cared.”

“I told her that if she wanted, we could be married, but it would be a marriage in name only. I told her about the trust fund I’d receive if I married. She and Kingsley could have every penny of it. God knows I didn’t want a cent from my father. I would ask nothing in return from her. She could be as free as she wanted to be with anyone she wanted. All I asked was that she let me finish out the school year at Saint Ignatius. For legal reasons I thought it would be best if we at least lived together for a few months.”

“She agreed to that?”

“Readily. She said she understood, and that it was kind of me to offer. Kind, she said. More like stupid and foolish. I’m not stupid very often, Grace. That was stupid.”

“You were in love, not stupid. They’re two very different diseases with identical symptoms.”

“I was in love. I’d never felt anything like that before. I wanted to tell her but Kingsley wanted to wait. I thought she’d understand eventually.”

“But she didn’t understand.” It wasn’t a question. If Marie-Laure had kidnapped Nora, clearly the woman didn’t understand.

“I didn’t even allow us to kiss at our wedding. That was one of the conditions. I knew it would hurt Kingsley too much to see. And yet, on our wedding night, as soon as we were alone, she threw herself at me. Everything I told her, everything she’d agreed to, she pretended like it hadn’t happened. She acted as if the only words I’d said to her that day in the woods were ‘We can be married.’“

“Love can give you tunnel vision. I know I had it with Zachary. I only saw the possibilities, never the danger.”

“Love made Marie-Laure very dangerous. She touched me constantly. I hated it. Especially being touched in my sleep.” Something flashed across his eyes—an old memory, perhaps, and a very bad one at that.

“Was it difficult to rebuff her advances? After all, if she looked anything like Kingsley, she must have been beautiful.”

“Many thought her so. Some who saw her declared her the most beautiful girl they’d ever seen. But she held no interest for me. None whatsoever. All her beauty was on the outside. I cared for her because Kingsley did. That was all.”

“I’m sure she thought you’d change your mind eventually. Women do that, convince themselves men will change when they won’t. If Marie-Laure believed in the power of her own beauty, I’m sure she thought she could change your mind. Must have been a great blow to her ego when she couldn’t.”

“She was less than pleased, obviously.”

“I’ve known my fair share of women like that. Beautiful, dangerous girls. Any man who didn’t fall at their feet … they considered it an insult and a challenge.”

“You speak of beautiful women as if you weren’t one. I assure you, you are. The freckles are an especially nice touch.”

Grace hoped the low light in the room masked the blossoming blush on her face.

“I’m not sure I agree with you. My husband would, but Zachary’s a freckle fetishist, if there is such a thing.”

“Your husband and I have excellent taste in women.”

The blush deepened at the insinuation. Grace took a deep breath. Show no fear, Nora had cautioned. Now she knew why.

“Nora was right about you.”

“About what?” Father Stearns asked. “Or do I not want to know?”

“She told me you’d play with me, play with my mind. You intimated that you know my husband has slept with Nora. Trying to gauge my reaction?”

“Perhaps. It’s not typical wifely behavior to show such concern over a woman who her husband has been with.”

“You can play all the mind games you want with me. I do care about Nora. My marriage is better than it’s ever been because of her. It’s the two of us in our marriage for the first time ever. Me and Zachary. Not me and Zachary and his guilt.”

“Doth the lady protest too much?” Father Stearns narrowed his eyes at her and Grace found herself squirming under the intensity of the gaze.

“No, I’m simply speaking the truth. I love Nora. She’s a dear friend, and considering I slept with someone even before Zachary had his night with your Nora, I think all is forgiven between us and then some. And Nora was absolutely right about you.”

“Was she?”

“She told me to show no fear around you. Said you’d play with it like a cat with a catnip toy.”