Something Nice: An Original Sinners Novella Page 5

  “I’m at Sacred Heart’s summer picnic and it turns out you have a lot of admirers at this church. Say hello to the young ladies of Sacred Heart’s Kingsley Edge fan club.”

  “Bonjour, ladies. I’m honored by your devotion.”

  “Oh my Jesus…” Katie breathed.

  “To whom am I speaking?” Kingsley asked. “I need names. I have to put you all in my black book.”

  “Your little black book?” Katie asked.

  “Oh no,” Kingsley said. “I have a very big black book.”

  “This was a bad idea,” Nora said with a heavy sigh.

  “Kingsley, it’s me, Maxine. Hi.”

  “Ah, Maxine. How’s your eye?” Kingsley asked.

  “Good. All healed. Thanks for chewing that guy out for me.”

  “He’s very lucky I let him walk away from that game. He should have been crawling,” Kingsley said. “A grown man having a tantrum at a soccer match between churches. Disgraceful.”

  “He was the worst,” Maxine said. “He was just pissed because our team is so much better.”

  “That’s absolutely true,” Kingsley said. “But no excuse to kick a ball into a girl’s face. Especially such a lovely face.”

  “Aww…thank you, Kingsley,” Maxine said, blushing. “You’re my favorite.”

  “You’re mine,” he said.

  “Kingsley, behave,” Nora said.

  “But…I don’t know how.”

  “Hi, Kingsley, this is Jessika. You helped me with my French oral final last semester.”

  “Did you pass?” he asked.

  “I did. Thanks for your help. I mean, merci pour l’aide.”

  “De rien. Just remember when you speak French, it’s in the lips, not the throat. It’ll improve your pronunciation. Pretend you’re puckering up for a kiss every time you speak it, and you’ll sound like a native.”

  “I think I might need private tutoring,” she said and Maxine high-fived her.

  “It is my duty as a Frenchman to help all young ladies improve their French orals,” he said. What a ham. Nora rolled her eyes.

  “I think I need to hang up right now,” Nora said. “I hear the police sirens. They’re getting closer…”

  “I love you, Kingsley!” Angie shouted.

  “I love you too, darling. Maîtresse?”

  “Yes, King?” Nora asked.

  “Is she cute? She sounds cute,” Kingsley said.

  “She’s adorable,” Nora said. “And underage.”

  “You were underage when I met you the first time. And the second time.”

  The girls screamed again. Nora was going to have to hang up before she lost her hearing.

  “I’m not underage,” Katie said.

  “Bien,” Kingsley said. “Elle, have that one washed and brought to my tent.”

  Katie fainted, very possibly for real. Nora rolled her eyes.

  “That’s it. Hanging up now. Say goodbye to Kingsley, ladies.”

  “Bye, Kingsley!”

  “Enchanté, ladies,” Kingsley said. “Next time you’re in Manhattan, stop by. My address is—”

  Nora ended the call.

  “Well, now are you all happy?” Nora asked the assembled young women of Sacred Heart Catholic Church.

  “I think his accent got me pregnant,” Maxine said.

  “I think I passed out. I need mouth to mouth. Kingsley’s mouth,” Katie said.

  “I think I need a trip to Manhattan,” Jessika said. “And birth control. Lots of birth control.”

  “I think you all need to go jump in the pond,” Nora said. They were all red-faced and fanning themselves, slumped over onto the dock like they’d been drinking.

  “Why did he call you Maîtresse, Nora?” Jessika asked. “That means ‘Mistress,’ right?”

  Nora opened her mouth, closed it again, gave that question a lot of thought.

  “Well, ladies? Did Eleanor give up the goods on Kingsley?” Nora looked behind her and saw Søren striding down the wooden walkway toward them. She’d never been so happy to see him. He was barefoot and had his hands in his jeans pockets. He looked so handsome and relaxed with the sun in his hair and the smile on his face, that it caused Nora real physical pain not to be able to touch him.

  “Yup,” Maxine said, fanning her face with her hand. “As you can see, we are hot messes.”

  “I can see that,” Søren said. “You do realize Kingsley is forty-five, yes?”

  “I told them,” Nora said.

  “Age is only a number,” Angie said.

  “So is sixty-nine,” Maxine said. Then she winced and looked up. “Oops. Sorry, Father S.”

  “If only I had pearls so that I might clutch them,” he said dryly. “If any of you wish to confess to having impure thoughts about Kingsley, please do me a favor and find another priest. Or perhaps no priests. Write them on paper, then burn them.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Katie said. “We confess those thoughts to each other.”

  “Thank God for small blessings,” Søren said. “Eleanor, are you finished corrupting the young ladies of my church yet?”

  “I hope not,” Angie said. “This was the best church picnic I’ve ever been to. I’m glad you came to Sacred Heart, Nora. I remember you used to let me play with your hair during Mass.”

  “That was you?” Nora asked. “I think I still have knots in my hair you put in there.”

  “Sorry about that,” Angie said, grinning.

  “Angie, your grandmother wants to leave soon,” Søren said. “She told me to tell you if you want to swim, do it now.”

  “I definitely need to cool off,” Katie said. “I’m going to be taking cold showers for the next year.” She dragged herself off the dock, stripped down to her swimsuit and dove off the dock into the deep pond water. The other girls followed suit, apparently hoping swimming would keep them from clean-up duty.

  When all the girls were gone, Søren sat on the dock next to her.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Much. Did you know all the girls have read my books?”

  “Someone in the youth group, probably Michael, heard about your books from one of the parents. Word spread like wildfire. I found one book in the choir loft last year with many dog-eared pages. Surprisingly, no one came to my office to claim it.”

  Nora grinned. “That was me when I was a kid. I used to bring naughty books to church to read during Mass. Until you showed up, of course. You were more fun than any dirty book.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Where is Michael anyway? I was hoping he’d come today.”

  “College visit this weekend. Sarah Lawrence. Also, he hates parties.”

  “I can see that about him. He’s still okay, isn’t he?” she asked. “I worry about him.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m watching him closely and so is his mother. And yes, he’s doing well. Much better after a night with you. But then again, so am I.”

  She buried her head in her arms a moment, hiding her smile.

  “I’m going to help Mrs. Maywood clean up,” he said. “You’ll stay here and keep an eye on the girls?”

  “I’ll stay,” she said. “Nobody drowns on my watch.”

  “The girls like you,” he said.

  “I like them. I didn’t have many girl friends when I was a teenager. Maybe I missed out on something.”

  “Is that my fault?” he asked. “I worry sometimes that I kept you from having the normal high school experience.”

  “Like yours?” she asked. He chuckled.

  “Point taken,” he said.

  “Don’t feel guilty,” she said. “My life was already fucked up by the time I met you. I don’t want to think about where I’d be if I hadn’t had you in my life back then.”

  “These girls need someone like you, Eleanor. They can talk to you the way they can’t talk to me or their parents.”

  “You know if I tell those girls the truth about sex and me
n and birth control, I’ll get into huge trouble.”

  “As if that has ever stopped you before,” he said. The smile left his face and he gave her a long serious look. “You do belong here, Little One. The church is better off with you in it.”

  “I just feel like…I don’t know. Like there’s a wall between me and them.”

  “We all feel that way at once time or the other. I know I have. It’s a kind of pride, Eleanor, thinking you’re above these people, set apart. Even Kingsley and Juliette come to the soccer matches and enjoy themselves.”

  “I did maybe have a little bit of fun today. It’s nice being able to have a normal conversation with you in public. I guess now that everyone knows our ‘history’ and that I ‘dated’ your ‘brother-in-law’ they won’t be suspicious of us talking to each other like this. They’ll think we’re friends or something crazy like that.”

  “We are friends. Aren’t we? We used to be. Can we be that again?”

  “Friends,” she said. She held out her hand and they shook hands. Then he used her shoulder to steady himself as he pushed up off the dock. He patted her head.

  “Good doggy,” he said.

  “Asshole!”

  6

  Nora stayed on the dock for the remainder of the picnic, acting as lifeguard and chatting with the girls who kept swimming up to her to ask her more questions about Kingsley and their not-so-sweet priest who was off somewhere kicking a soccer ball around with some of the boys. When the time came to wrap up the party, she was the recipient of more than a few wet hugs from the Sacred Heart Kingsley Edge Fan Club. Nora returned to the farmhouse and found nearly everyone was gone but for a few stragglers who were cleaning Mrs. Maywood’s kitchen for her. Nora grabbed a trash bag and started filling it with empty glass bottles for the recycling bin.

  “You don’t have to do that, dear,” Mrs. Maywood said as she came out to the deck. “I can get it.”

  “It’s okay. I got it,” Nora said.

  “You were always a sweet girl.” Mrs. Maywood patted her face.

  “Tell that to our priest who accused me of being a savage.”

  “I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him to his face.” Mrs. Maywood held the bag open while Nora dumped bottles into it. “It’s funny about Father Stearns.”

  “What is?” Nora asked.

  “How much happier he’s been since you came back to church. He looks ten years younger. Then again, love will do that to a man.”

  Nora froze. Her heart skipped a beat. She tried very hard not to drop the bottle in her hand.

  “He’s always worried about me,” Nora said. “Too much. He’s just relieved he can keep an eye on me.”

  “He worries about the people he loves,” Mrs. Maywood said. Nora’s hand shook as she emptied out a half-drunk beer onto a bare patch of ground.

  “He’s a good priest,” Nora said.

  “That he is. Even if he does have a girlfriend.”

  Nora met her eyes.

  “Mrs. Maywood, I don’t—”

  “It’s all right, dear. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I think you’re mistaken. We just…we’re friends. I used to—”

  “My husband and I were planning a trip to Belgium five years ago. He’d just been diagnosed with kidney disease, and he decided he wanted to see more of the world before he was gone. Father Stearns mentioned he’d been to Belgium, suggested a few places to see, even told my husband about a certain Belgian beer he loved. A Trappist beer, Achel Blond. I made sure to have some in the cooler for Father Stearns. He sent you to get his beer for him. He didn’t say what to bring him but that’s what you got. Out of twenty different kinds of beers in the cooler, you picked his favorite. I had my suspicions before, but that confirmed it.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say,” Nora said. It was the truth.

  Mrs. Maywood patted her hand.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” she said.

  “Are you disappointed?” Nora asked, inwardly cringing. “Angry?”

  “Father Stearns has given his blood, sweat, and tears to this church. If he wants to give a part of him to you, I won’t begrudge him. Genesis 2:18—it’s not good for man to be alone. I’m angry at the Church. That’s who I’m angry at. The Catholic Church is losing priests left and right—to scandal, to wives, to the Anglican Church. They’re closing churches down everywhere because there aren’t enough men to serve the faithful. Stubborn old goats in Rome thinking only of themselves. We need healthy priests, joyful priests. Not bitter, overworked, lonely and dangerous priests. So no, I’m not angry at you or him. I’d rather have a happy priest with a girlfriend than no priest at all.”

  Nora took the bag from Mrs. Maywood and tied it off.

  “I swore to myself I wouldn’t say or do anything stupid today,” she said. “That’s all I wanted to do was get through this day without screwing up.”

  “You didn’t,” Mrs. Maywood said. “It’s not your fault. George would tell me to mind my own business, but he’s not here so here I am, not minding my own business. I imagine it’s a roller coaster, fun and terrifying.”

  “That’s one way to put it. I’m thirty-three,” Nora said. “And he’ll be forty-seven this December. And yet we have to sneak around like Romeo and Juliet hiding from our parents. Fun, terrifying, and very, very exhausting.”

  Mrs. Maywood walked to the deck railing and sighed. She smiled but it wasn’t a happy smile, more wistful, more longing. “It’s not good for man to be alone,” she said. “Or woman.”

  “You miss your husband?” Nora asked.

  “Every day. Here’s a secret of mine, one not even Father Stearns knows. George was my second husband. I don’t tell people that since I take Communion.”

  “Father Stearns has never stopped a divorced and remarried Catholic from taking Communion.”

  “I know, dear. But there are a lot of people out there who’d raise a stink and that would put Father Stearns into a bad position. My first marriage wasn’t even a real marriage. I was barely twenty years old and he was a drunk, a cheater, a liar. But we were Catholic and back then, fifty years ago, a divorced Catholic might as well wear a scarlet D on her chest. I was a scandal back then. A terrible scandal. My own parents didn’t speak to me for two years after I left my husband. And now…half the church is divorced and nobody bats an eyelash anymore. Isn’t that funny how quickly the world changes? I guess you two are waiting for the world to change, aren’t you?”

  “I guess we’re all waiting for that,” Nora said. “But I’m not holding my breath.”

  Mrs. Maywood reached out and patted the back of Nora’s hand.

  “You’re a good little actress. I almost believed you earlier when you said you’d gone through a bad break-up.”

  “That wasn’t an act.” Nora pushed her sunglasses up on her head. She didn’t need to hide her eyes from Mrs. Maywood anymore. “For a while I was living with someone who didn’t really approve of my life. I loved him, but…well, I loved him. No buts. I loved him, and we broke up anyway.” Nora swallowed lump in her throat. “Anyway, the good Father and I can’t seem to stay away from each other. So here we are. I don’t recommend trying to build a new life on top of the wreckage of your old one.”

  “Hard, isn’t it?”

  “Out of the frying pan, into the friar.”

  “That pun is a worse sin than dating a priest.”

  Nora laughed. “I know. I should be ashamed. Sorry.”

  Mrs. Maywood shook her head.

  “After the divorce from my first husband, I was in the same boat as you—building a new life on top of the wreckage of the old. I met George and married him—too soon probably. I can’t tell you how hard it was at first. I didn’t trust George though he’d given me no reason not to. Oh, I loved him, but he was too good to me. After my first husband, it was hard for me to relax, to trust any man, especially the man I loved. Part of me thought it was an act. I thought it would all go away. It was hard for me to believe I was w
orthy of his love and kindness when my first husband told me so many times how worthless I was. He won me over eventually.”

  “What did he do to win you over?”

  “One day right after we’d moved out here, I was looking out at the kitchen window. I told George it was so pretty out here, all that was missing was a pond. By August, he’d dug one out for me. He built a pond where before there had been nothing. Now that’s love, isn’t it?”

  Nora nodded. “That’s love.”

  “George was an atheist—a humanist, he called himself. That’s why he never came to church with me, although he never tried to stop me from going, and he was always happy to host these parties for my friends. His biggest gripe with religion was the concept of heaven, of paradise, that we could only get there after we died. He said any philosophy that cared more about life after death than life before death wasn’t anything he could believe in. That’s why he called this farm Paradise. He said Paradise was ours if we wanted it. It was ours to make in the here and now, not something out there in the future that we had to wait for. I believe in Heaven, but I tell you what—on hot summer days when I was in that pond swimming with George and our girls, that’s when I knew George might have a point about Paradise. Maybe it is ours for the making.”

  “Regina?” Søren walked out the back door onto the deck. “Do you need anything else before I leave?”

  “Everyone else gone?”

  “They are,” he said. “You can have your house back. And thank you again for hosting us.”

  “I need a hug before you go,” she said. “A good one.”

  Søren smiled and came over to her, hugged her and lifted her gently off her feet before putting her down again.

  “Was that good enough?” he asked.

  “More fun than Disneyland,” she said. “You’re a lucky lady, Ellie.”

  Søren’s eyes widened. Nora leaned and stage whispered to him, “She knows.”

  “I know,” Mrs. Maywood whispered. She elbowed Søren in the ribs. “I might be old but the old eyes can still see 20/20.”

  “Well,” Søren said, looking slightly dazed. “If you both will excuse me, I need to find a new career.”