Ice Cold

We are yours, O Lord. Fruitful is your flock and bountiful your harvest.

The voices faded, and the organ suddenly played a fanfare. The congregation turned to look at Katie Sheldon, who stood frozen in the doorway, blinking in confusion at all the eyes staring at her. She wore the lace-trimmed white dress that her mother had sewn, and her brand-new white satin slippers peeped out beneath the hem. On her head was a maiden’s crown of white roses. The organ played on, and the congregation waited expectantly, but Katie could not move. She did not want to move.

It was her father who forced her to take the first step. He took her by the arm, his fingers digging into her flesh with an unmistakable command. Don’t you dare embarrass me.

She began to walk, her feet numb in the pretty satin slippers as she moved toward the altar looming ahead. Toward the man whom God Himself had proclaimed would be her husband.

She caught glimpses of familiar faces in the pews: her teachers, her friends, her neighbors. There was Sister Diane who worked in the bakery with her mother, and Brother Raymond, who tended the cows whose soft flanks she loved to pet. And there was her mother, standing in the very first pew, where she had never stood before. It was a place of honor, a row where only the most favored congregants could sit. Her mother looked proud, oh so proud, and she stood as regal as a queen wearing her own crown of roses.

“Mommy,” Katie whispered. “Mommy.”

But the congregation had launched into a new hymn, and no one heard her through the singing.

At the altar, her father at last released her arm. “Be good,” he muttered, and he stepped away to join her mother. She turned to follow him, but her escape was cut off.

Prophet Jeremiah Goode stood in her way. He took her hand.

How hot his fingers felt against her chilled skin. And how large his hand looked, wrapped around hers, as though she were trapped in the grip of a giant.

The congregation began to sing the wedding song. Joyful union, blessed in heaven, bound forever in His eyes!

Prophet Goode tugged her close beside him, and she gave a whimper of pain as his fingers pressed like claws into her skin. You are mine now, bound to me by the will of God, that squeeze told her. You will obey.

She turned to look at her father and mother. Silently she implored them to take her from this place, to bring her home where she belonged. They were both beaming as they sang. Sca

A room where no one heard, where no one wanted to hear, a thirteen-year-old girl’s silent shrieks.

2

SIXTEEN YEARS LATER

THEY HAD COME TO THE END OF THE AFFAIR, BUT NEITHER OF THEM would admit it. Instead they talked about the rain-flooded roads and how bad the traffic was this morning, and the likelihood that her flight out of Logan Airport would be delayed. They did not speak of what weighed on both their minds, although Maura Isles could hear it in Daniel Brophy’s voice, and in her own as well, so flat, so subdued. Both of them were struggling to pretend that nothing between them had changed. No, they were simply exhausted from staying up half the night, trapped in the same painful conversation that was their predictable coda to making love. The conversation that always left her feeling needy and demanding.

If only you could stay here with me every night. If only we could wake up together every morning.

You have me right here and now, Maura.

But not all of you. Not until you make a choice.

She looked out the window at cars splashing through the downpour. Daniel can’t bring himself to choose, she thought. And even if he did choose me, even if he did leave the priesthood, leave his precious church, guilt would always be in the room with us, glaring at us like his invisible mistress. She watched windshield wipers beat away the sheeting water, and the somber light outside matched her mood.

“You’ll be cutting it close,” he said. “Did you check in online?”

“Yesterday. I have my boarding pass.”

“Okay. That’ll save you a few minutes.”

“But I need to check in my suitcase. I couldn’t fit my winter clothes in the carry-on.”

“You’d think they’d choose someplace warm and su

“ Jackson Hole ’s supposed to be beautiful.”

“So is Bermuda.”

She ventured a look at him. The gloom of the car hid the careworn lines of his face, but she could see the thickening silver in his hair. In just one year, how much older we’ve grown, she thought. Love has aged us both.

“When I get back, let’s go someplace warm together,” she said. “Just for a weekend.” She gave a reckless laugh. “Hell, let’s forget the world and go away for a whole month.”

He was silent.

“Or is that too much to ask?” she said softly.

He gave a weary sigh. “As much as we might like to forget the world, it’s always here. And we’d have to return to it.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

The look he gave her was infinitely sad. “You don’t really believe that, Maura.” He turned his gaze back to the road. “Neither do I.”

No, she thought. We both believe in being so goddamn responsible. I go to work every day, pay my taxes right on schedule, and do what the world expects of me. I can babble all I want about ru

He pulled up outside her departure terminal. For a moment they sat without looking at each other. Instead she focused on her fellow travelers waiting at curbside check-in, everyone bundled in raincoats, like a funeral gathering on a stormy November morning. She did not really want to step out of the warm car and join the dispirited throngs of travelers. Instead of boarding that flight, I could ask him to take me back home, she thought. If we had just a few more hours to talk about this, maybe we could find a way to make it work between us.

Knuckles rapped on the windshield, and she looked up to see an airport policeman glaring at them. “This is only for unloading,” he barked. “You have to move the vehicle.”

Daniel slid down the window. “I’m just dropping her off.”

“Well, don’t take all day.”

“I’ll get your luggage,” Daniel said. He stepped out of the car.

For a moment they stood shivering together on the curb, silent amid the cacophony of rumbling buses and traffic whistles. If he were my husband, she thought, we would kiss each other goodbye right here. But for too long, they had scrupulously avoided any public displays of affection, and although he was not wearing his clerical collar this morning, even a hug felt dangerous.

“I don’t have to go to this conference,” she said. “We could spend the week together.”

He sighed. “Maura, I can’t just disappear for a week.”

“When can you?”

“I need time to arrange a leave. We’ll get away, I promise.”

“It always has to be someplace else, though, doesn’t it? Someplace where no one knows us. For once, I’d like to spend a week with you without having to go away.”

He glanced at the policeman, who was moving back in their direction. “We’ll talk about it when you get back next week.”

“Hey, mister!” the cop yelled. “Move your car now.”

“Of course we’ll talk.” She laughed. “We’re good at talking about it, aren’t we? It’s all we ever seem to do.” She grabbed her suitcase.

He reached for her arm. “Maura, please. Let’s not walk away from each other like this. You know I love you. I just need time to work this through.”