The Saint(42)

AFTER THAT NIGHT OF THE ROLLS-ROYCE, AS ELEANOR had dubbed it, things between her and Søren went back to normal. Or as close to normal as things ever were. Summer passed so quickly that the days blurred like scenes outside the window of a moving car. She almost grieved when the time came to start her junior year of high school. She’d practically lived at church for the past three months and saw Søren nearly every day. Each week she logged almost forty hours of community service. Søren gave her reading assignments from her Bible and made her meditate on them. Even those couple of weeks she worked at a day camp for underprivileged kids she still saw him in the evenings. She’d even made him an embroidered bookmark.

But time wouldn’t be denied. September came and she survived the first day of school without incident. No fights. No arguing with teachers. No accusing beloved saints of having unnatural relations with seraphim. Fuck, she was a saint these days. She didn’t run away to the city to hang out at her dad’s shop anymore. She didn’t sneak out to her friend Jordan’s anymore. She didn’t stay up until 3:00 a.m. reading dirty books with a hand down her panties anymore. Well, she still did that, but only on the weekends. Before Søren, Elle had wanted school to end so she could go home, sleep and read. But now she counted the hours until she could get out of school only so she could go to church.

When she arrived at Sacred Heart after her first day back to school, she changed clothes and got her watering can. Søren’s office door was shut, and she could hear voices inside. Curious, she pressed her ear to the door and tried to make out the words. Søren spoke clearly and loudly enough that she could hear him, but none of the words made any sense. In fact, it sounded like he was speaking a different language. Definitely not German. No, it sounded kind of sexy and romantic. Hearing him talk like that made her thighs quiver. It must be French.

French? Who the hell was he talking to in French?

Next time he was on the phone while she stood outside his office eavesdropping, he should have the human decency to at least speak in English.

Frustrated, Eleanor started toward the fellowship hall when she heard the door open. She turned around and saw Søren’s arm extending from inside the office like some kind of sideways periscope. He crooked his finger at her and Eleanor walked back to him.

“Are you trapped inside your office?” she whispered as she pressed her back flat against the wall by the door. “Some kind of force field and only your arm can escape it?”

“Yes,” he said as his arm disappeared back inside his office. She faced him from across the threshold. “It’s called a dissertation.”

“A who a what?”

“A dissertation.” He sat back behind his desk. Two piles of books flanked him. “I’m finishing my Ph.D. work. I have ordered myself not to leave my office until I have made significant progress on it this evening.”

“What’s a dissertation?”

“If Satan gave you instructions for writing the book report from Hell, it would closely resemble those of a Ph.D. dissertation.”

She scrunched up her face in sympathetic disgust.

“I wrote the book report from Hell last year on Jane Eyre and the wife in the attic. I called it ‘Jane Versus One Crazy Bitch.’”

“An interesting topic.”

“What’s your topic?”

“‘The theology of pain and suffering in the letters of Saint Ignatius.’”

“Is that as boring as it sounds?”

“More.”

“It needs a better title.”

“Better than ‘The theology of pain and suffering in the letters of Saint Ignatius’?”

“How about ‘Hurts So God.’ It’s a riff on that John Cougar song ‘Hurts So Good.’”

Søren rested his chin on top of the nearest pile of books and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Your mind must be the most marvelous playground.”

“I think my mental swing sets are rusty.”

“We should fix that.” He got up from behind his desk, grabbed his Bible and left the office.

“Hey, whoa there, big papa.” She followed him as he strode toward the sanctuary. “You aren’t supposed to leave your office.”

“I made the rule. I can break it.”

“Can I break your rules?” she asked.

“No.” He stared down at her. “Come with me. Bring your Bible.”

She grabbed her Bible from her backpack and made her way to the choir loft in the sanctuary.

“What are we doing today?” she asked once she reached the loft. “Are you going to make me meditate on Jesus again?”