She felt like the b.u.t.t of a joke today. Nearly one year ago S0ren had dismissed her from his life, erected a wall around himself and ordered her to stay behind it. Go be a normal teenager, he'd said. So she'd left him. They hadn't spoken one word to each other in months. And now she stood at the altar as he performed a wedding ceremony for someone else.

She had no one to blame but herself for this pain she felt watching S0ren perform his secretary's wedding. Diane needed a fifth bridesmaid to even out the numbers with the groomsmen. Eleanor had told her no at first, knowing how painful it would be, but Diane had begged and cajoled and since she'd given Eleanor rides for the past year, Eleanor felt like she owed her something. She couldn't give her gas money so she put on the d.a.m.n dress, pasted on a fake smile and walked down a church aisle toward the man she loved more than life itself, knowing with every step that she would never have her own wedding with him.

Walking on broken gla.s.s would hurt less than walking down that aisle.

As S0ren began the ceremony, quoting Bible verses of love and devotion that caused everyone in the church to sigh and weep, Eleanor tuned him out. She'd gotten good at that in the past year.

During the reception, Eleanor sat with the youngest two groomsmen, drank champagne and pretended to flirt. S0ren stayed for an hour and talked to people. He ignored her, of course. Ignored her as much as she ignored him. She knew he ignored her because she watched him ignore her for the entire hour he ignored her.

"I need another drink," Eleanor said, and the bride's younger brother, who had apparently fallen in love with her cleavage, hurried to fetch her another gla.s.s of champagne.

S0ren left the reception and Eleanor danced with the groomsman. She wanted to go home and sleep, but she promised to stay to the bitter end.

The party finally broke up at one in the morning. Diane and James ran through a hail of birdseed on their way to the waiting limousine. Ten minutes later the fellowship hall had turned into a ghost town. About G.o.dd.a.m.n time.

Eleanor went into the pantry of the food bank she'd set up last year and dug through the bag of clothes she'd stashed there. She yanked the flowers out of her hair and tossed them in the trash before shimmying out of the skirt of her two-piece bridesmaid's dress. She pulled on her jeans and slammed her feet into tennis shoes, sighing with relief at getting rid of her high heels. The bodice of her sleeveless dress proved a bit trickier. She couldn't get the zipper unstuck. d.a.m.n Diane and her "two-piece A-line dress with Empire waist-oh, my G.o.d, it'll look so good on you, Elle" bulls.h.i.t. They should have all worn jeans and T-shirts.

She growled loudly, swore violently. And in the silence that followed, she heard a man laughing.

"Do you need some help in there, Eleanor?"

S0ren? What the h.e.l.l? She rolled her eyes and made another failed attempt to get the zipper down.

"I'm stuck in my dress. Do you have scissors or knives or guns or anything?"

"You need a gun to remove your dress?"

"Once I get it off, I'm putting it out of its misery."

"Is it that serious?" S0ren came back to the pantry. She glanced at him over her shoulder. He'd already beaten her to the jeans-and-T-shirt punch. In all the time he'd served as pastor at Sacred Heart she'd only seen him out of his clerics twice before. If the pope ever saw S0ren in a pair of jeans His Holiness would probably order all the clergy to switch to that new uniform. Church attendance would skyrocket.

"I'm trapped."

S0ren c.o.c.ked his eyebrow at her. "Turn around."

"Are you going to cut it off? Do we need to call an ambulance?"

"Lift your hair up and hold still."

She dug her fingers into her hair and held it while S0ren gripped the fabric of the dress and pulled it out from her skin. After a few seconds of tugging, the zipper finally budged.

Eleanor tried to take over for him, but he seemed intent on pulling it all the way down. Who was she to argue with him, especially when his fingertips brushed the bare skin of her lower back?

"Better?" he asked.

"Thank G.o.d. I thought I'd die in this stupid dress." S0ren turned his back to her while she pulled the rest of her dress off, put on a bra and slithered into her white T-shirt.

"It's not a stupid dress. You looked lovely in it."

"Lovely? That bustier top pushed my t.i.ts up to my neck."

"But in such a lovely way."

Eleanor stuffed the dress into her bag and pulled her hair up into a ponytail all while glaring at him. She wanted to be happy he was here talking to her but she couldn't get over her anger. Over a year of the cold shoulder could not be forgiven with one compliment on her t.i.ts.

"What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be all snuggled up in bed with Jesus?"

S0ren watched her as she pulled out garbage bags from under the sink.

"I have company. I noticed the lights were still on. What are you doing here?"

"Cleaning."

"Cleaning?"

Eleanor took the bags into the fellowship hall and started dumping plastic plates and paper cups into the trash bag.

"Diane's been nice to me," Eleanor began. "She's sweet. Drives me places since I can't get my license until I'm off probation. I couldn't afford to get her a real wedding gift so I said I'd clean the hall up so her family wouldn't have to."

She balled up a paper tablecloth.

"What?" she demanded.

"I didn't say anything," he said.

"You're staring at me, Father Stearns," she said with sarcastic emphasis on his t.i.tle.

"I am."

"Why?"

"I'm staring at you because entirely without intending to you've become a very kind and generous person."

"You can shove kind and generous up your a.s.s."

"And I'm staring at you because you are stunningly beautiful."

Eleanor dropped the bag on the floor.

"S0ren. Seriously." Her stomach churned. She wanted to cry and scream and kiss him and kill him all at once.

"When you aren't trying to look beautiful, you look beautiful. When you are trying to look beautiful, you are stunning."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Maybe not, but I'm trying to."

"I don't blame you, Little One." He stepped closer and Eleanor fought the urge to retreat.

"So we're back to this now?" she asked, sitting on the edge of a table and crossing her arms over her stomach.

"Back to what?"

"Back to us being honest with each other? You snap your fingers and the past year goes away just like that?"

S0ren held out his hand and snapped his fingers by her ear. She flinched at the sound.

"Just like that," he said.

"You've been acting like I don't exist for months. Why tonight?"

"Two reasons," he said. "First, there is something you need to know. Second, I have an entire bottle of wine in me."

Eleanor gaped at him.

"You're drunk?"

S0ren raised his hand. An inch separated his thumb from his index finger.

"That much?"

S0ren slightly widened the gap.

"That would be slightly more accurate," he said.

"Great. It'll be easier to seduce you, then," Eleanor said, seeing how much she could push him.

"Later. We should talk first."

"You talk while I clean." So what if he was drunk and here and gorgeous and she'd missed him so much her hands were shaking from simply speaking to him again? She had a job to do.

"Can I help you?"

She picked up her bag.

"This is my gift to Diane, not yours. I have to do this myself or it's cheating."

"I feel useless simply standing here."

"You are useless."

"Is there anything I can do to be less useless to you?"

"f.u.c.k me on the gift table?"

S0ren glowered at her so hard she laughed.

"Fine." She pointed to the corner of the room. "You can put on some music."

"This is a job I can do." The DJ, otherwise known as the bride's cousin Tommy, had left all the equipment and music behind. He'd come by in the morning to haul it all away. "Or not."

Eleanor watched him as he flipped through stacks of CDs.

"What's wrong?"

"The music selection is shameful. What is this?" S0ren held up a CD with a familiar-looking cover.

"Dr. Dre."

"Is he a licensed medical professional?"

"He's a rapper."

"And this?" he asked.

"4 Non Blondes. Obviously you would not be allowed in that band."

"I didn't want to join their band anyway," he said in a tone so dry her face hurt from swallowing her laughter.

S0ren dug through a few more CDs.

"How does anyone dance to any of this music?" He sounded horrified.

"It's drunken reception dancing, not waltzing." She knew it was a weak defense, but she didn't have it in her to defend modern music tonight. Not when she'd been listening to the cla.s.sical station every night in bed trying to learn something about the music S0ren played so lovingly on piano. The last CD she bought had been a collection of baroque pieces.

He held up a CD.

"Finally," he said. "Decent music."

"What did you find? Bach? Beethoven? Vivaldi?"

"Sting."

Eleanor burst out laughing.

"You like Sting?"

"Who doesn't? He's a musician's musician."

"I can't believe you've even heard of him."

"I spent ten years of my life in seminary, Eleanor, not in a cave."

The music started and filled the room with cool blue sounds and Sting's arching voice that always managed to speed up her pulse and lower her blood pressure simultaneously.

"Music," S0ren said as he walked to her, "has melodies and themes. It's not simply a collection of profanities and noise set to a ba.s.s line."