Good!!! So you talked to him?

Not as much as she’d planned to. After Jonathan had returned from speaking to Hæra, they’d touched on what had happened that night on the shore, but he seemed reluctant to go into much detail. Madeleine wondered how much he remembered; he’d been pretty drunk. He might be embarrassed to admit it. Mostly, he’d wanted to apologize for Hæra’s behavior.

And when he’d driven her back to the hotel, Madeleine hadn’t been up to saying much of anything. Hopefully their meeting tomorrow would be more productive.

Yes. He’s very nice.

Did you figure anything out?

Madeleine hadn’t figured anything out except one thing she hadn’t wanted to. And she wasn’t ready to tell Becca, “Yes. I am incontrovertibly, incurably homosexual.”

For her whole life, she’d avoided thinking that word, applying it to herself. If she didn’t say it, she didn’t have to live with it. She could call it something else: a condition, an affliction, a cross to bear. It was all those things. It was also more.

After Hæra had held her so closely, Madeleine couldn’t use any other word. Homosexual. Sexual. So sexual that, even through the hostility and confusion, Madeleine’s body had responded wholeheartedly to Hæra’s long, wiry frame. And, God help her, to those strong hands that had gripped her as if Hæra never intended to let go.

It hadn’t felt unnatural at all. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world, something Madeleine was meant to do, to…have.

That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

Not yet. I’m going back tomorrow. He’s got a sheep farm.

Lol. Get a wool sweater for me

Will do.

Be safe, hon. Call me if you need me. We miss you

There followed a picture of the cat, Booster, sitting on the end of Madeleine’s bed with an unimpressed look on his face. In spite of herself, Madeleine chuckled.

I miss you too. Going to bed now. It’s been a long day.

I bet. Night night

Madeleine sent a heart back. Then she slumped forward, her chest pulling her down with the weight of the stone inside it. She propped her elbows on her knees and closed her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled, and she set her jaw to stop it. That didn’t stop one tear from rolling down her cheek at the slightest flutter of her eyelashes. It didn’t stop the second one either.

Homosexual. The word summoned her parents’ stern teachings. Her priests’ solemn sermons. The nuns’ policies against special friendships. Everything she’d been taught and had dedicated her life to following.