The Original Sinners: The Red Years

She smiled slyly.

“Gotta be prepared. We guttersnipes are always ending up in trouble with the coppers.”

“You know, I should apologize for being so rude about you. The work is going rather well.”

The tiredness temporarily disappeared from her eyes.

“Thanks, Zach. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We aren’t even close to the finish line.”

“I know. That’s why I came here. This is a good place for praying and meditating.”

“Praying? Really?”

“I grew up in the Catholic Church, believe it or not. Cradle Catholic, they call us. I was probably born in a pew. Knowing my father I was probably conceived in one, as well. I don’t attend Mass much these days, but I do get homesick now and then.”

“They must stand in line to hear your confessions.”

Nora released a hollow, joyless laugh.

“No,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t go to confession anymore.”

“So what brings you here then if you’re no longer practicing? Faith or just nostalgia?”

“Maybe it’s nostalgia for my faith.” She shrugged and laughed again. “I still believe. I do. My life has been too blessed not to believe. Faith just isn’t as easy as it used to be. Not since I left Søren anyway.”

“Was it easier with him?”

Nora nodded. “It’s easy to believe in God when you wake up every morning knowing you are completely and unconditionally loved. Søren gave me that.”

“But still you left him. Why?”

“There are only two reasons why you leave someone you’re still in love with—either it’s the right thing to do, or it’s the only thing to do.”

“Which was it?”

Nora exhaled slowly. “The right thing. I think. You?”

Zach turned his head and saw an icon of the Virgin Mary holding the infant Jesus in her arms.

“The only thing. I think. Suffice it to say Grace and I never should have been together to start with.”

“Sounds like me and Søren. We definitely shouldn’t have been together.”

“Why?” Maybe if he could find out why Nora left the man she loved so deeply, he could begin to understand why Grace had pulled away from him.

“He had—” Nora paused and seemed to search for the right word “—other obligations.”

“Is he married?”

She raised her hand and touched her neck. He followed her eyes. She gazed at a small iron Jesus impaled on his cross.

“Something like that.” She shook herself from her reverie and met Zach’s eyes again. “Come on. Let’s get back to the house. You can look over my new chapters.” Nora gave Zach her hand and he let her pull him up. But she didn’t stop with up. She pulled him straight to her.

Face-to-face, their bodies were only separated by a hairbreadth. Nora looked down and back up again.

“Oh, dear. No room for the Holy Ghost.”

“You are incorrigible, Ms. Sutherlin.” Zach’s smile died as he noticed the dark circles under Nora’s eyes. “You look exhausted. Are you not sleeping?”

“I’m fine. But last night I kept waking up every hour and going in to check on Wes. You know, I got an IUD so I would never have to do the ‘is junior still breathing?’ thing. This is very unfair.”

“IUD—you are a bad Catholic, aren’t you?”

“The birth control is the least of my worries if I ever have to answer to the pope,” she said, taking a step back. “I do as Martin Luther instructed—I sin boldly.”

He followed her down the steps and along the rows of pews to a side entrance he hadn’t seen when he came in. Inside the door was a foyer where Nora had left her coat.

“Do they make the sinners use the side door?” he asked.

“We’d all have to use the side door then. ‘All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.’ Romans 3:23.”

“A Bible-quoting erotica writer—you are quite the oxymoron,” Zach said.

“And a Moxie Whore-On sometimes.” Nora winked at him. “If it helps, Søren used to say Catholicism was the perfect faith for someone into S&M.”

“Why?”

Nora opened her mouth and closed it again as if she started to say something and then thought better of it.

“Show, don’t tell,” she said, taking his arm.

Together they walked back into the sanctuary taking another doorway on the opposite side that opened up to a long corridor. The walls of the corridor were adorned with framed prints of biblical scenes. Scenes from the Hebrew Bible were on his right—images that he remembered from his childhood in Hebrew school; he recognized Ruth and Naomi, Jacob’s Ladder, the Crossing of the Red Sea, among others. On his left were scenes from the New Testament—images far less familiar to him. Nora brought him to the end of the hall and stopped in front of the third print from the end.

“This one’s my favorite,” she said, still holding his arm. “Antonio Ciseri’s Ecce Homo. That’s ‘Behold the Man’ if you aren’t up on your Latin.”

“A tad rusty. Is this from the Crucifixion?”

“From the Passion. This is when Christ is being presented to the angry mob.”

“Ah, yes. When we bloodthirsty Jews killed Jesus, right?”

Nora smiled and shook her head. “You kidding? Jesus died for the sins of the world. Everyone who ever lived killed Jesus.” She paused and smiled sadly. “I killed Him.”

Zach said nothing as he studied the painting, struck by the artist’s choice of bright colors to paint such a dark scene.

“Søren has this impressively twisted theology of the Trinity, you know. God the Father inflicted the suffering and humiliation, God the Son submitted to it willingly and God the Holy Spirit gave Christ the grace to endure it.”