The Virgin

“And I would have liked my privacy,” she said.

Søren took her hand and kissed the back of it. His way of saying “You win this round.”

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Nora asked. “The motorcycle I heard?”

“It was.” He gave her a penetrating stare as if trying to see the woman she’d once been and reconciling her with the woman in front of him.

“Why did you come to me there?” she asked.

“I had to,” he said simply. “If there was any chance, any chance at all I could speak to you or even see you, I had to take it.”

“How did you know where I went?” she asked. “I was gone one day and by the next night, you’d found me.”

“I knew where you would go because you did what I would have done in your place,” Søren said. “If I were scared and in pain and on the run.”

“You would have gone to a convent?” she asked, smiling at the idea.

Søren smiled. “No. To my mother.”

“I would have loved to have gone to your mom’s house,” Nora said as she glanced at Kingsley who watched them both with quiet intensity. It had been her first instinct to leave the country and hide out at Gisela’s house in Denmark. She’d rejected it out of hand.

“She would have taken you in,” Søren said. “You know how much she loved you. It didn’t matter I was a priest. She considered us married.”

“I know. And I know she would have taken good care of me,” Nora said, recalling in an instant a thousand memories of Søren’s mother. Her Æbleskiver pancakes she’d made in winter. Listening to her and Søren playing piano together. The long talks she and Nora had while Søren was outside playing with his nieces. Nora sensed Gisela wanted Søren to leave the priesthood, get married and have children, but she never said a word about it. His mother respected their life together, their choices, even with all the risks they took. And Nora always loved her for not trying to change either of them.

“You might have been happier with my mother than you were with yours,” Søren said, knowing how fraught her relationship with her own mother had been. Fraught until the day Nora’s mother died over two years ago.

“Probably. But I loved your mom too much to make her pick sides between her only son and me. That wouldn’t have been fair to her,” Nora said.

“Considering how I behaved that night, it’s safe to say she would have sided with you,” Søren said. Nora wondered how her life could have changed if she’d chosen to run to Søren’s mother instead of her own. That year at her mother’s convent had changed everything, and if she’d gone to Gisela’s she probably would have returned to Søren as his submissive in a week. “He sided with you against me.” Søren nodded toward Kingsley.

“You can’t blame me,” Kingsley said without any hint of contrition. “You fucked up, and I wanted to rip your heart out with my bare hands. It feels good to say that out loud.”

Nora laughed, and shockingly so did Søren.

“I wasn’t very happy with you, either,” Søren said. “You left without a word. Didn’t tell anyone where you went, not even Calliope.”

“That was the point,” Kingsley said, rolling onto his back. “How could anyone tell you where I went if I didn’t even know where I was going? I got to the airport and bought a ticket for the next international flight out.”

“Where did you go?” Nora asked.

“Greece,” Kingsley said. “Then Japan. I spent a month in Hong Kong, a month in New Zealand. New Zealand gave me island fever. I went to the Philippines next, and after that, the French Caribbean.”

“Meanwhile I’m in upstate New York in a convent. Next time I split town, I’m going to your travel agency, King,” she said.

“No more leaving,” Søren said. Nora crawled across the bed and kissed him.

“Never again, I promise,” she said, meaning every word. They kissed again, Søren’s hand resting lightly on the side of her neck, pressing into her collar so she could feel it against her throat. She hadn’t wanted to talk about that year ever, but now that they’d opened Pandora’s box, she felt better, as if the last and final wall between the three of them was tumbling down at last. They should have talked this out years ago. She and Kingsley hadn’t ever talked about the pregnancy they’d ended, but Søren was right as he usually was. Ignorance wasn’t bliss. Ignorance was cowardice.

“Stop kissing him,” Kingsley said. “Get to the nun-fucking already.”

Nora turned her head and glared at Kingsley.

“I’ll tell you about my first night with Juliette if you tell me about your nun. It’s a good story,” Kingsley said. “Deal?”

“Fair trade,” Nora said, and held out her hand. Kingsley shook it. “But my nun didn’t show up for about eight months. Let’s see, I got there in June. It was almost spring when I saw her the first time.”

“That’s when I met Juliette, too. February in Haiti on the beach. I don’t remember the day of the week, but I know it was Valentine’s Day. Someone told me that.” He laughed at something and didn’t tell them what.

“You start,” Nora said as she slid over Søren and got out of bed. “I’m opening the wine.”

“We’re saving that for the reception,” Kingsley reminded her.

“If this storm doesn’t stop, we’ll all drown by morning and all that wine will have gone to waste.”

“You make a good point, Elle,” Kingsley said. “I’ll have a big glass. I’ll get in trouble with Jules for hiding from her. I might as well get in trouble with her for drinking, as well.”

“Why would she be mad at you for drinking?” Nora asked.

Kingsley grinned broadly. “Because she can’t have alcohol again for seven more months.”

Nora almost dropped the wine bottle.

“Juliette’s pregnant?” Nora asked.

Kingsley raised his finger to his lips. “Only you two know now.”

Nora ran to Kingsley and embraced him. “You slut,” she said, planting a kiss on both cheeks.

“She wanted two,” Kingsley said. “And le prêtre doesn’t look a bit surprised.”

“I’m trying to look surprised,” Søren said with a sly smile.

“You knew?” Nora asked.

“Juliette and I were working on something together recently. She got light-headed and almost fainted. She told me why she wasn’t feeling well in exchange for me not calling an ambulance for her.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Nora asked, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pointing at his nose. “You jerk.”

“I’m a priest. Keeping secrets is my job,” he reminded her, taking her hands off his shirt and kissing them. He looked from her to Kingsley. “I’m very happy for you. And relieved you finally said something so I could tell you that.”

“Are you happy?” Nora asked Kingsley, already knowing the answer.

“Is the pope Catholic?” Kingsley asked.

“Pope Francis is a Jesuit,” Søren said.

“And Catholic,” Kingsley said.