“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Elle said. “Only welts and bruises.”

“Did the man who got you pregnant do this to you?”

“Yes,” Elle said. It wasn’t a lie. Søren had been in Rome ten weeks, and Kingsley had been her only lover in that time. No doubt who the father was.

Sister Aquinas placed her hand gently on the top of Elle’s head. It felt like a blessing although what she’d done to deserve a blessing, Elle didn’t know.

“God sees the heart,” Sister Aquinas said again. This time it didn’t sound like a platitude. This time it sounded like an apology.

Sister Aquinas applied some sort of cream to her bruised back and gave her a week’s supply of a mild painkiller. Elle accepted the pills with gratitude. It would be nice to be out of pain again. Even better than drugs, Sister Aquinas brought her a tray of food. Last night’s leftovers warmed up, but Elle ate every single bite of it.

“Feeling better?” Sister Aquinas asked when she came for the tray.

“Much better. Almost human.”

“Good. We like humans around here,” she said with a smile. “Sister Mary John will be back soon. Lie down and get some rest.”

Rest sounded heavenly. And rest was heavenly. The pillow under her head felt like a cloud. The plain white cotton sheets might as well have been silk. She was safe, safe at last. And now, now she could finally sleep.

Elle closed her eyes.

Then she heard a noise.

She sat straight up in the cot, her heart hammering against her chest.

Seemingly of its own volition, her body forced her onto her feet, her feet forced her forward. Her steps brought her to the window in the infirmary. It was well after 2:00 a.m. and all was dark for miles around. Elle could see the moon and the stars and the slight reflection of them both on the rolling hills, the fields and forests that surrounded the abbey. She saw nothing else. But she didn’t have to see it. She heard it.

“What is that?” Sister Aquinas asked, coming to stand next to her. “Is that a car out there?”

“No,” Elle said, her voice hollow and scared. “It’s a motorcycle.”

“How can you tell?”

“I know cars,” she said. “And I know motorcycles. That’s a 1992 907 I.E. Ducati. Black.”

Sister Aquinas laughed. “You know the color?”

“That’s the only year they came in black.”

The nun narrowed her eyes and peered out onto the black night.

“Someone you know?” she asked, looking at Elle with a curious light in her eyes.

Elle took a step back away from the window.

Then another step.

Then another. She shook her head.

“No.”

8

2015

Scotland

“I DIDN’T KNOW,” Kingsley said, and Nora turned to look at him.

“What didn’t you know?” she asked.

“I didn’t know it was that hard for you.” Kingsley’s back rested against a bedpost at the foot of the bed and his eyes searched her face. “I didn’t know about the pain.”

“It was fine after a couple days. Bad cramps, that’s all. Women are used to that.” She shrugged it off. The past was past. She still remembered the pain, but there was no reason for Kingsley to know how well she remembered it.

“We should have been more careful, you and I,” Kingsley said.

“We were fluid-bonded. It’s what we do. That’s the risk we take,” Nora said. “I don’t blame you. Or myself. Not anymore. Accidents happen, right?”

“I’m sorry you went through that alone,” Kingsley said. “I should have said that a long time ago.”

She smiled at him, grateful for the words. “You wanted kids and I knew it. It would have been too sadistic, even for me, to make you hold my hand during the whole process.”

“I thought...” Kingsley began and stopped.

“Go on,” Søren said. “We’re talking about it finally. Talk.”

“I thought I’d lost my only chance to be a father¸” Kingsley admitted. “I convinced myself of that, which is why I wasn’t there for you the way I should have been.”

“You did the best you could.” Nora stretched out her leg and touched her bare toes to Kingsley’s. “We both did.”

“I didn’t,” Søren said.

“You were in Rome.” She turned to look at him. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“Somewhere along the way I did something wrong. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been scared to tell me,” Søren said.

“I wasn’t scared to tell you,” Nora said, not entirely truthfully. “I didn’t want to drag you into this. And I didn’t need to talk to anyone about it. As soon as I knew, I knew what I wanted to do. No reason to talk to you about it.”

“Except you belonged to me, and you were going through a difficult time,” he said. “I would have liked to have been there.”

“And I would have liked my privacy,” she said.

Søren took her hand and kissed the back of it. His way of saying “You win this round.”

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Nora asked. “The motorcycle I heard?”

“It was.” He gave her a penetrating stare as if trying to see the woman she’d once been and reconciling her with the woman in front of him.