Kingsley lifted his chin and looked into her eyes.

“Do you even care why I came over here?” he asked. “Do you want to know why I called you twenty times?”

“Do I?” she asked, caring but not wanting to, not when Kingsley was acting like a madman.

“Our priest takes his Final Vows in a few days.”

“I know.”

“He asked me to go,” Kingsley said.

“He asked me to go, too. Is that why you freaked out? Because he’s taking Final Vows?”

“No, it’s not,” he said, biting off the words. “I don’t want him staying in the church but that’s the least of our worries now.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s leaving after he takes his vows.”

“Leaving? What do you mean he’s leaving?”

“He came by yesterday and asked me if I would send someone to pick up his steamer trunk. I asked him why. He told me he’s been offered a new church assignment, helping troubled youth who live on the streets.”

“What youth?” Nora asked. “What streets?’

“The troubled youth of Syria. Syria—one of the most dangerous countries in the world. A few days after he takes his Final Vows he’s going. That’s why he wants us there. Because it’s the last time we might ever see him.”

“No.” She raised her hands as if to push away his words. “No way. He paid them a massive amount of his father’s money so they’d keep him at Sacred Heart. He would never let them send him away.”

“He’s not letting them send him away. He volunteered,” Kingsley said. “He’s leaving, and he’s not coming back.”

Nora’s legs couldn’t support her anymore. Her knees shook, her heart pounded, her head swam and she sat down on the ottoman by the foot of the armchair.

“He’s leaving us,” she said, looking up at Kingsley.

“I suppose it’s only fair considering you and I both left him.”

“He wouldn’t leave us only to punish us. He might leave a week or two to punish us but not...not forever.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Kingsley said.

“He said...”

“What? What did he say?”

“I asked him if things would change if he took his Final Vows,” Nora said. “He said yes, he’d keep his vow of chastity from now on. I never thought... I never thought he’d leave me. Us.” She looked at Kingsley, her hand over her mouth. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Possibly for the same reason you didn’t tell him when you left for a year without a word to either of us.”

Nora winced but didn’t defend herself. She had no defense.

“What do we do?” she asked. “How do we make him stay?”

“I don’t think we can. I’m sending someone to his house Sunday evening to pick up the trunk.”

The steamer trunk stood at the foot of Søren’s bed. Underneath one layer of innocent-looking linens and quilts was a black leather toy bag that contained the finest collection of canes, whips, floggers and spreader bars in Connecticut. The second-finest collection was in her closet upstairs.

“He’ll go nuts without someone around to play with,” Nora said. “Even when he was in seminary he had his friend Magdalena.”

“I imagine he’ll be going on a lot of long runs. Probably dodging bullets the entire time.”

“I’ll stop him from going,” Nora said, standing up. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Bonne chance. I already tried every argument I could think of to talk him out of it. Unless you’re willing to go back to him...”

Nora didn’t answer.

“Are you?” Kingsley asked.

“Not to manipulate him into staying,” she said.

“Then I suggest you see him today and kiss him goodbye. I doubt you’ll have another chance for a very long time.”

Kingsley put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. But he didn’t open the door.

“I was wrong to have gone through your things,” Kingsley said. “I was angry. Juliette is visiting her mother, and I needed you. I had no one to talk to about it, no one who would understand. I panicked. I overreacted. I apologize. I’ve lost him twice before, and I can’t lose him again. I won’t survive it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“If he were to die over there... I wouldn’t be able to live without him. I’d last three days without him before I put a bullet in my brain.”

“Kingsley, you—”

“You’re stronger than I am. You can make it without him. I can’t. That place they’re sending him is a war zone. He’s a fucking pacifist. What’s he going to do? Pray his way out of a bullet to the back of the head? I prayed when they pulled guns on me and that didn’t stop the bullets from ripping me open. God won’t save him, either.”

“I’ll save him,” Nora said.

“You will? How?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll figure something out.”

“You stop him from going, and I’ll give you your job back.”

“What if I don’t want it back?”

“Then have fun paying for this little house of yours without a paycheck.”

With that, Kingsley walked out the door, slamming it behind him and leaving her alone and aghast and in shock.

Nora was at a loss. She couldn’t think, couldn’t act, could barely breathe. Kingsley had fired her like he’d threatened he would and she couldn’t care less. She’d care later, but not now. Not yet. Søren had accepted a new church assignment. And not in New York or Massachusetts or Maine or even fucking Florida. Syria? An ocean away from her in a country on the brink of civil war. How like the Jesuits to send priests there—God’s soldiers, God’s marines, God’s fools, in Nora’s estimation. Arrogant men who thought they could save the world out of sheer faith and willpower. Years ago she’d thought Søren’s sister Claire crazy when she said she worried every single day that her big brother would meet his end like the Jesuits in El Salvador, slaughtered by guerrilla soldiers in 1989. Was this suicide? Did Søren want to die? Was this PTSD from his motorcycle accident? Was he punishing her for leaving him by leaving her? Was he punishing himself for his own sins he couldn’t forgive? Why?

She flagellated herself with these questions for ten minutes or more to no avail. Her phone—where was it? She needed to call Søren and hear it from him. Or she should go to him, look him in the eyes, make him look her in the eyes and say it to her face, say that he was leaving her forever. Dare him to say it to her.

But she didn’t dare to dare him. She knew he would.

A knock on the door interrupted her near hysteria. She ran downstairs, opened it and found Thorny on her porch.

“The coast is clear?” he asked.

“Yeah. King’s gone.” She held the door open for him.

“Nora? You okay?” Thorny asked as he tried to take her in his arms. She pulled back, her hand pressed to her stomach to quell the rising panic.

“King’s pissed.”

“I expected that.”

“And he’s...”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you talk about it?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Let me run up and get my stuff. Sit. We’ll talk when you can. Or I can go and give you some alone time if you need it.”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t what I need.”

Thorny said nothing. He kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand.

“Be right back,” he said.

He came right back downstairs with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his overnight bag in his hand.

“I got a call. Client emergency. Do you mind?”

“No, you should go. King and I are having our own little emergency.”

She walked over to the door and opened it for him.

“We’ll hang out again. Right?” he asked.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.” Nora leaned in and kissed him, kissed him hard, hard enough it seemed to surprise him but he kissed her back just as hard.

“Later, Mistress,” he said and walked out of her door. She watched him go, watched him slip his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, watched him pause in confusion.

“Looking for this?” she asked as Thorny turned back, an expression of unmistakable guilt on his face. She held the flash card in her hand, the tape that they’d made last night, the tape he’d tried to leave with.