No matter how many times she tried, Liz could not wash away the lingering scent of musk, a potent aroma that hovered around her in a cloud so thick she felt enveloped in fog. She spent most of Monday in the Cathedral of Saint Matthew the Apostle. After the evening Mass, Liz made her way to the women's restroom. She stared numbly at her reflection, scrutinizing the cropped brown hair plastered to her skull, unkempt and unwashed; dark circles rimmed the bottom of her eyes as if she had been punched – and it would have served her right if she had been.
Idly, she turned the cold water tap on, cupping her hand in the frigid flow and splashed the water on her face. She gasped at the shock of it, and laughed hollowly at the gesture, a literal affirmation that she was, as so many people claimed, 'ice cold.' The phrase had long been applied to her, ever since she was a freshman at the Catholic all-girls Mercy High School in Omaha. Her emotional reserve, solemnity, and propensity to make excellent grades put her at odds with her peers, leading to her being dubbed 'Sister Somber.'
As a child from a broken home, Liz had early in life become inured to ridicule and verbal abuse. It would have been much more unusual if she had been completely ignored, or if one of the others had tried to befriend her. For four years, she was a loner, never raising her hand in class, never attending sports events, and spending every lunch period tucked away in the library reading one book after another.
For all her efforts, Liz graduated valedictorian and never made a single friend. Twelve years later, the only ones she could remotely claim as 'friends' were a volatile, manic-depressive FBI field agent and his would-be quarry, who was seemingly omniscient and more than a bit obsessed with her – and who she was deeply and immutably in love with.
'Friend' was not the most appropriate word to use in reference to either Ressler or Red. Yet, though she had made love with both of them, the word 'lover' did not seem adequate, either.
She had spent Christmas with Red, whisked away to a hideout halfway across the country, where the two had done a little shopping and made love numerous times. Red had left her at the Cathedral on the 29th, the same place he had spirited her away from. Now, a week later, here she was again.
To her immeasurable relief, Tom had not questioned Liz when she feebly excused her lengthy absence as 'a vital, classified national security assignment.' Though he had sulked for the rest of the evening, the next morning he rose early and made pancakes, returning to their daily routine as though nothing had happened.
In some ways, nothing had happened, at least nothing that should concern him. Tom Keen was Liz's husband in name only. He had been fine for the first year and a half of their marriage, 'the real deal,' but in the last three months he had gradually become a stranger.
So why did she feel so wretched, so deeply stained by sin that she felt she was irredeemably beyond God's grace? Under the letter of the law – both that of the Bible, and of her mother – she was ruined, an adulterer, the lowest sort of sinner. In the days of the Old Testament, she would have been dragged out before the congregation, publicly reproved, and stoned to death.
Women transgressors were always put to death. Liz could not remember what the punishment was for the male lovers. Perhaps they, too, were stoned to death, or perhaps they were simply flogged or had to pay a fine. Liz wished, not for the first time, that she had read her Bible more.
She felt a strong sudden chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. It hit her like a wall of needles, sharp stabbing pain that made her whimper and drop to her knees, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders. What was it? Liz closed her eyes and began to pray:
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name . . ."
She felt a sudden pressure against her hip and felt a buzzing noise. Momentarily she was dumbfounded, wondering what on earth it could be, before realizing she had tucked her cell phone in her pants pocket before leaving the house. She quickly dug it out of her pocket and pushed the green talk button. "Hello?"
"Lizzie, what is wrong?"
Oh, thank God! "What do you mean, Red? What makes you think something's wrong?"
On the other end, Liz heard a high wailing sound – a siren – and strong whistling wind. He could be anywhere. Red chuckled darkly. Liz visualized his face, his lips twisted into an infuriating smirk. "Do not try to be reticent with me, Lizzie. I know that something is bothering you . . . now be a dear and tell me."
"How do you know, though? Are you having me followed?"
"Darling, you are as paranoid as always."
"So is that a 'yes?' "
There was nothing but silence on the other end.
"I'm not a total idiot, Red. If you don't say anything, that means you are having me followed . . . great."
Red cleared his throat, and she heard a loud trumpeting sound that she interpreted as him blowing his nose. "Sounds like it's pretty cold there," she said, stalling.
"Yes, as I suppose it is in the capital. Take care, darling, you might be in for some nasty weather this week."
"Probably. But you know, the cold never bothered me much."
"Is that so?"
"You mean you didn't know that?"
"Lizzie, I may know a lot about you, but even I cannot decipher your thoughts and feelings. I am not God, after all."
"You know, sometimes I wonder."
Red ignored her remark and pressed her to disclose the truth of what was bothering her.
"I'll tell you, but you better be a ready for a downpour; the dam is about to burst."
"I'm listening."
"I feel like I'm gonna go to hell. . . I love you, and I don't regret what we did, but I really do think I'm in trouble – as you so nonchalantly teased me for on Christmas. As blasé as I appeared to be about the whole affair, the truth is now I'm starting to get worried. I'm scared, Red."
Her voice shook, and Red felt his heartbeat accelerate. He had hoped that Liz would be able to relax over the course of their holiday getaway, but it appeared to have done the opposite. He did not want Liz to feel ashamed. Initially, he had not even wanted to sleep with her. But, as was often the case, one thing led to another. He refused to say 'it just happened,' because they were both in full control of their actions. No, he had not intended to embark on a physical affair, but the moment she intimated that she wanted him, all his defenses and inhibitions had fallen away.
He had become addicted to the feel of her beneath him, whimpering his name as he surged against her and released inside of her.
"Lizzie . . ." Red paused to organize his thoughts before continuing.
"Sweetheart, I am sorry you feel this way. Whatever sin we have committed, the blame lies with me, not with you."
"It takes two, Red. Adultery is a cooperative effort, you know?"
"Please, Lizzie, don't think of it that way —"
"What way? Red, it's not like you held me down and raped me, for God's sake!"
Liz heard him gasp and steeled herself for an angry, serious tongue lashing.
It never came.
Liz counted the seconds of silence, listening to Red's agitated, discordant breathing. He was pissed. Yet another abnormal occurrence, Raymond Reddington on the verge of losing his temper while seemingly at a loss for words. Liz counted to 237 before Red cleared his throat again.
"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. . ."
"That's beautiful, but —"
"First John," Red interrupted. "Chapter 4, Verse 18, King James Version."
"Like I said, Red, that's beautiful." She paused a beat before adding, "Why did you tell me all that? I don't particularly care which version of the Bible you use."
"Lizzie, my dear, beloved child . . . do you still not understand? My love for you is unconditional. Ours is a perfect love – not in the sense of being without complication, mind. I love you to a fault. I told you the version because I generally quote from the Douay-Rheims Bible, but today I happen to have access only to the King James Version."
"Would it do any good for me to ask you why?"
"The hotel where I am staying has a Gideon Bible in the chest of drawers – as they often do – and there is no other reading material of interest to me. I have spent a bit of time perusing the New Testament. It is a very interesting read."
Liz yawned and laid down on the hard floor, shifting the phone to her other ear. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly. "Don't interpret that as a comment about what you're saying. I'm getting pretty tired."
"You have not been sleeping well."
"No. I can't sleep in the same bed as my own husband anymore. It's like I told you: you've ruined me for any other man."
"Where are you?"
"Where are you?"
"I cannot tell you that."
"Ditto."
"Are you deliberately refusing to answer me?"
"You catch on quick."
"Your sarcasm hurts sometimes. But no matter; since neither of us will agree to disclose our locations – I am not having you followed after all, you see – it appears we have reached a stalemate."
"I guess so."
"With all sincerity, Lizzie, I do miss you. And I am concerned. You sound absolutely exhausted."
"Yeah," Liz conceded, her eyes burning with oncoming tears. "I am." She exhaled in a deep whoosh of air as if she were trying to blow away negative thoughts that were crowding her mind.
"Listen to me now, Lizzie. Wherever you are, I want you to find a place where you can lay down."
"I'm way ahead of you."
"Good. Listen to me carefully, alright."
"Are you seriously going to sing me a lullaby?"
Liz could literally hear the twitch of his lips as they curved into a signature smirk.
"Not quite. Although I am sure you loved my performance of Puccini's famed aria. . ."
"You can rest assured there."
"Thank you, darling. Now, instead of singing, I am going to read a Psalm."
"Okay . . ."
"Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the LORD imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile. When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. Selah.
"I acknowledge my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the LORD; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. Selah.
"For this shall everyone that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou mayest be found: surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto him. Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah.
"I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye. Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held with a bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee. Many sorrows shall be to the wicked: but he that trusteth in the LORD, mercy shall compass him about. Be glad in the LORD and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart."
Red's diction was impeccable, the words of the Psalm so beautiful Liz almost wanted to cry. The silence that ensued was lengthy but comfortable. Liz meditated on the meaning of the words, as well as she could understand them. In essence, she understood that she should no longer feel guilt or shame for what they had done – and she no longer did. A sense of peace came over her, as did a surge of tender love and gratitude she had felt for the first time in his company, and only then.
This was how she knew that she loved him. It was just as he'd said earlier, she loved him with a 'perfect' love. She no longer feared him, and indeed was consumed with hope and prayers for his safety and swift return. Whatever things she had to face, she would be able to face with him at her side.
"Lizzie?" Red's voice was hesitant and soft. "Are you alright?"
"I am now. Thanks, Red. Please come back soon."
"I will, as soon as I am able. Until then, I have a few things I need to take care of."
"Okay . . . bye."
"Goodbye, Lizzie. Take care."