Hæra had said Jonathan was “a shite fiddler,” which had seemed harsh. Tonight, before the cottage fireplace, Madeleine had to concede she’d been correct. Jonathan’s bow was less than precise, the fiddle’s notes high and screechy as he played traditional Scottish folk songs “to welcome an American lass properly.”

It was still delightful. She, Hæra, and Jonathan all sat together in the cottage’s little living room, with a fire going to keep out the evening chill. Hæra had pulled the couch back and sat farther away from the heat, but she insisted she was fine, if Madeleine and Jonathan needed the fire to stay warm.

There was a space at Hæra’s side. Madeleine looked longingly at it from where she sat on the floor with her back to the fire. Maybe once she warmed up, she’d sit with Hæra for a few minutes, and next time she was in town she’d buy a blanket from Annie’s Crafts. Then they could sit together.

At least looking at Hæra was its own reward. Hæra lounged on the couch in her usual posture: legs spread, arms draped over the back of the couch, casual and confident. She’d let her hair out of its ponytail. Now it fell, long and straight, around her face and over her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp, her mouth tilted in a thoughtful little smile as she watched Jonathan.

Madeleine smiled too. Hæra had said she loved him as if it was the greatest shock she’d ever known. Meanwhile, Madeleine had had something of a shock herself. The scales had fallen from their eyes today, as they had from Saint Paul’s.

Paul had harsh things to say about homosexuals—things that had tormented her for her whole life. He had also said, If I have not love, I gain nothing. Catholics weren’t overly fond of Pauline theology, but you couldn’t just discount that kind of declaration from an apostle of Christ.

She didn’t have to throw it away entirely, nor the other teachings that had sustained her through good times and bad. She did, however, have to think about them in new ways. And if that made her a cafeteria Catholic after all, picking and choosing what seemed right to her, then maybe it wasn’t the worst fate in the world.

Becca had agreed. They’d spent most of their conversation talking about Hæra and the kiss—with a few key details left out, obviously. But Becca had agreed it was high time for Madeleine to embrace a new way of thinking.