2015 Scotland
“IT WAS A dark and stormy night,” Nora said as she came to stand next to Søren at the window. She gazed out on the summer storm tearing up the Scottish sky.
“Please tell me that isn’t the first line to your next book.”
“Oh, but it’s such a good first line. Classic even.” She tucked her hand into his and watched the light show with him. Wind and rain lashed the trees and the moors. A flash of lightning set the night afire for a split second and the hills revealed their colors before fading into black again. “How about this—‘It was a dark and stormy night in the castle, and a woman named Nora was determined to seduce her priest.’”
Søren smiled slightly.
“An improvement. A minor improvement.”
“Everyone’s a critic.” Nora squeezed his hand, and he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. He’d arrived this morning but she’d been so busy with her work here that they hadn’t had more than five minutes together. At last the day was done, her work was over until tomorrow, and they could hold hands and simply be.
“Do I want to know what you’re thinking?” Nora asked him.
“Merely watching the storm,” he said, but she could tell he had something on his mind, on his heart. They both did.
Tomorrow was the big day... Everything between her and Søren would change tomorrow. It was happening finally and there was no going back.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked.
“Should I be?”
“I am,” she admitted. “Big day for us.”
“I’m at peace,” he said. “Although I will admit the peace is hard-won.”
“We’ve waited a long time to do this.”
“It’s time now,” he said. “We’ve waited long enough.”
A clap of thunder interrupted their conversation and together they peered into the storm outside the oriel window.
“What are you thinking?” Nora asked.
“Thinking about Job, chapter thirty-eight,” he said. “It’s every priest’s dream to have God come and speak to him face-to-face. Even if it is to tell him how little he knows about the world. Storms always remind me of those verses. God says, ‘Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place?’”
Nora looked up at the sky. “‘Can you raise your voice to the clouds / and cover yourself with a flood of water? / Do you send lightning bolts on their way? / Do they report to you / Here we are.’”
“It’s comforting to know God is so powerful. Comforting to know we aren’t,” Søren said.
Perhaps only a priest could find comfort in his powerlessness. Perhaps only Søren.
“Are you coming to bed?” she asked Søren.
“Not yet. I won’t be ready to sleep for hours.”
In Scotland, it was nine-thirty. In New Orleans,
