The Original Sinner: The Saint Part 6

"Lucky for me, it all happened at the back of the bus and the driver didn't see it. Otherwise Vice Princ.i.p.al Wells would have my a.s.s. He told me if I got sent to his office one more time I'd be publicly crucified as an example to the rest of the school. I think he was kidding?"

"Did you deserve such a threat?"

"Maybe. I said in cla.s.s that St. Teresa didn't have a mystical experience but was, in fact, having an o.r.g.a.s.m. It's not like I didn't prove it. She said the angel 'penetrated' her with his 'flaming arrow' right to her 'entrails' and that it gave her 'ecstasy.'" Elle used air quotes for emphasis. "That was not a mystical experience. That was a big O. V.P. Wells didn't appreciate my theology."

"I appreciate your theology."

Eleanor opened her mouth and then closed it again. She had zero words. None. Nothing. She had no idea what to say to that.

"I'm going to go away now," she said.

"Why?"

"You want me to stay?"

"I do."

She looked at him askance.

"No one ever wants me to stay. You know, after I start talking."

"I want you to stay," he said. "And I'd like you to keep talking."

"I'm not interrupting your golf game?"

"Golf?"

"All priests play golf, right?"

"Not this priest."

"What do you play?"

"Other games."

Something in the way he said the word games made Elle's toes curl up inside her combat boots.

"Then I should let you get back to your other games."

"Do one thing for me before I leave."

"What?"

"Take your hair down."

This time she didn't even argue or ask why. She simply pulled the elastic out of her hair, ran her fingers through the messy waves and dropped her hands to her side.

"Give me your right hand."

He held out his hand again and he took her unburned wrist in his fingers. From her left hand he took her ponytail holder and wrapped it around her wrist.

Slipping two fingers between the band and her wrist, he lifted it high and let it go, snapping the sensitive skin so hard she flinched.

"f.u.c.k ... Jesus, that hurt. What did you do that for?"

"Those burns on your wrist will take months to heal completely. There are other ways of inflicting pain on yourself that don't leave scars. You should learn them."

Elle looked down at her wrist. Her skin still reverberated with the pain of the vicious sting, but the redness had already started to fade.

"Did you ... You just ..."

"Your body is a temple, Eleanor. You should treat it like the priceless and holy vessel it is. I learned one thing and one thing only from watching my father's wife. If you're going to redecorate, either learn how to do it properly, or hire a professional."

He took his helmet off the handlebars and started the motorcycle. Its impressive engine roared to life and Eleanor felt the vibrations from the ground up to her stomach.

"You're not a normal priest, are you?"

He gave her a smile that hit her like a slap to the face and a kiss on the mouth all at once.

"My G.o.d, I hope not."

With those final words, he put on his helmet and kicked out the stand with his heel. Eleanor took three giant steps back. He rode out of the parking lot and left her standing there alone.

She watched him until he disappeared from view. And then she listened until the sound of his engine retreated into silence.

"I'm yours, S0ren," she said to no one but G.o.d, and didn't know what she meant by it. She only knew it was true.

She was his whatever the consequences. She was his.

Amen. Amen.

So be it.

6.

Eleanor ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT, THE MIRACLE ELEANOR prayed for happened. Her mother had to go into work early. She'd be gone from five until midnight. Eleanor could leave the house for a couple of hours without anyone noticing.

She'd seen on the church bulletin that someone was holding a Lenten prayer service at six that night. Perfect excuse. For twenty minutes, she worked on her hair until it resembled human hair and not her usual lion's mane. She put on clean clothes-tight jeans and a V-neck sweater. In all her life she'd never walked so fast to church.

When she arrived at Sacred Heart, she didn't find anyone praying. She should probably ask someone where the service was. Maybe S0ren would know?

Eleanor tiptoed up to the door and found it ajar. Inside the office she spied a lamp on the desk and shadows moving.

"Knock knock," she said without actually knocking. The door opened all the way, and Eleanor took a step back.

S0ren stood in the doorway clad in his clerics and collar. He didn't seem displeased to see her.

"h.e.l.lo, Eleanor. Nice to see you again." He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

She peeked around his shoulder and peered inside. Books sat stacked on the desk and chairs.

"You're moving in?"

"Father Gregory's sister has asked for his things."

Eleanor took a step back. Standing so close to him meant she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"He's really not coming back?"

S0ren slowly shook his head.

"You have to understand that a stroke is a serious condition. Once he's out of the hospital he'll be staying with his sister and her husband."

"Are they nice people?"

He seemed momentarily taken aback by her question.

"His sister and her husband? I haven't met them, but she and I spoke on the phone. She seemed very kind and concerned."

"That's good."

Eleanor bit her bottom lip while trying to think of something else to say.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry. I was going to go to this prayer thing but I can't find it. I saw-"

"I mean with your lip."

"I don't know. I bite it sometimes. Habit."

"Stop it. The only girls I've ever seen doing that are either not very intelligent or are trying to look not very intelligent. I refuse to believe you're either."

"Really? You don't even know me."

He smiled and took a step back into the office.

"I know you."

Eleanor started to enter the office.

"What do you mean you know me?" she asked, but when she crossed the threshold, he held up a hand.

"Out."

"Out?"

"Out of my office."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Eleanor took a step back into the hallway.

"I'm not allowed in your office?"

"No one under the age of sixteen is allowed in my office without a parent present. No one over sixteen is allowed alone in my office unless the door is open. These are my rules."

"That's kind of strict."

"I'm strict."

He pulled a book off the shelf and added it to a pile on the desk.

"Why are you so strict?"

He paused while removing another book from the shelf and gave her a searching look.

"Can I talk to you like an adult?" he asked, s.h.i.+fting books on the shelf.

"I'd be p.i.s.sed if you talked to me like a child."

He glanced at her as he put an empty file box on the desk and one by one started piling books inside.

"Last year an expose was released regarding child s.e.x abuse by Catholic priests and the churchwide cover-up by the bishops, the archbishops and even the Curia."

"Mom says those people, the victims, they're after the church's money."

"Your mother is wrong."

"So the s.e.x abuse is as bad as they say?"

"Eleanor, do you know why I'm here?" S0ren asked.

"I know Father Greg is retiring, and there's a priest shortage in the diocese so they had to call the Jesuits for a loaner. You're the loaner."

"It isn't as simple as that. Recently, I returned to my community after my ordination. Things were tense. A Jesuit in our province had recently been convicted on s.e.x abuse charges stemming from his a.s.signment at an inner-city school."

A chill pa.s.sed through her body.