Part 20 (1/2)
”He's also dangerous, Little One, and I don't use the word lightly.”
She suppressed a smile. When he called her Little One, her fingers trembled and her feet itched and her thighs tightened.
”I like him already. He's your friend?”
”Yes. Now put the card away. Keep it safe. Emergency use only. Understood?”
”Understood.”
She slipped the card into her back pocket.
”Okay, now you can have my story.”
”Thank you.” S0ren stuck the folder under his arm. ”Before I take full possession of this fine piece of erotic satire, might I ask you one question?”
”I really wish you wouldn't.”
”Why does the king tie Esther to the bed?”
Eleanor c.o.c.ked her head to the side. That wasn't the question she'd expected him to ask.
”I don't know. I've been reading these books by Anne Rice and there's a lot of stuff like that in them.”
”I think you do know why he did it, and it isn't because you read about it in a book. Tell me the truth.”
She pondered the question a moment.
”I think he tied her to the bed for the same reason a smart man who is not an idiot would put a lock on his Ducati.”
”Because he doesn't want it stolen?”
”No,” she said, and knew she had the right answer. If this was a test she'd show up to take it with nothing but a pencil.
”Then why?”
”Because he loves it.”
14.
Eleanor THANKSGIVING BREAK ARRIVED AND ELEANOR nearly cried with relief. Finally she would have her answers from S0ren. She'd watered that G.o.dd.a.m.n stick in the ground for six straight months without missing a single day. She'd been sick in bed, and she'd gone to water it. It had stormed, and she'd watered it. It had even snowed last week, and she'd trudged through six inches of white powder in her beat-up combat boots and watered it. That day, it had been so unnaturally cold the water had turned to ice the moment it touched the ground. The day after Thanksgiving equaled exactly six months from the day she'd begun. She had twelve questions ready for S0ren. He'd better be ready to answer them.
1. What's the second reason you're helping me?
2. What's the third reason being with me is problematic?
3. Why will your friend help me?
4. Why does a priest have his own handcuff key?
5. Whose feet should I be sitting at?
6. Why does everyone at church think your name is Marcus Stearns and your Bible says your name is S0ren Magnussen?
7. Why do you want me to obey you forever?
8. Are you a virgin?
9. I'm a virgin. Are you okay with that?
10. When will you keep your end of the deal?
11. Who are you?
12. Are you in love with me?
If she had the answers to all these questions, she knew she would know everything she needed to know about S0ren.
She spent Thanksgiving Day alone with her mom. They had turkey and mashed potatoes and a chocolate pie Eleanor had begged her mother to make. Eleanor slept for four straight hours after their dinner. She blamed the turkey for her coma but she knew it was simple exhaustion. Going to school five days a week and then spending seven days a week at church had worn her out. She couldn't complain, though. Better than juvie.
The day after Thanksgiving dawned bright and cold and painfully beautiful. She had to squint to see the sky for all the light s.h.i.+ning down and reflecting off the snow. Her mother had to work that day, so Eleanor had the house to herself. Bliss. Utter bliss. She ate leftovers, wrote, read and tried not to obsess over the answers S0ren would have to her questions. She would go to Sacred Heart this evening on the pretense of working on something. She'd water that f.u.c.king stick for the final time, go to S0ren's office and hand him her list of questions. And then she'd have something truly to be grateful for.
She lay down to take a nap. What if their conversation went late into the night? She needed to be ready for that. But as soon as she lay down on her bed, the phone rang.
With a curse and a groan, she dragged herself to the phone.
”h.e.l.lo?” she said, trying not to sound 100 percent irritated.
”Happy Thanksgiving, baby girl.”
”Dad?” Eleanor's heart dropped.
”Of course it's your dad.” He laughed, but Eleanor couldn't.
”Why are you calling me?”
”Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I love my daughter and miss her? Maybe because I haven't heard her voice in months and I knew her mom would be working today.”
”Dad, we're not allowed to talk to each other.”
”Who said?”
”Mom. My lawyer. My ... Everybody.” Her father definitely didn't need to know about S0ren.
”We're not breaking any laws. A man has a right to see his own child.”
”What do you mean, see?”