THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Forgiveness
The church was empty.
Nora had arrived early, before the morning service, before the crowds, before the light. The stained glass windows were dark, the pews were bare, the altar was cold. She sat in the front row, her hands clasped, her head bowed.
She was not religious.
She had never been religious.
But she needed somewhere to go. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere still. Somewhere she could sit with her thoughts and not be interrupted.
The door creaked.
Footsteps echoed on the stone floor.
Someone sat beside her.
She did not look up.
“I thought I might find you here,” Miles said.
“I didn’t know you were out.”
“I’m not. They granted me a temporary release. For the anniversary.”
“The anniversary?”
“Of the day you forgave me.”
She looked at him.
His face was pale. His eyes were red. He had been crying.
“I haven’t forgiven you,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I need to forgive myself.”
The words hung in the air.
The church was silent.
The light was dim.
“How do you do that?” Nora asked.
“I don’t know. I’m hoping you can tell me.”
“I can’t even forgive myself.”
“Then let’s figure it out together.”
They sat in silence.
The minutes passed.
The light grew brighter.
“I’ve been thinking about what Lena said,” Nora said.
“In your dream?”
“In my dream.”
“What did she say?”
“She said love is being afraid and doing it anyway.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“It’s terrifying.”
“Same thing.”
Miles turned to her.
His eyes were wet.
“I’m sorry, Nora.”
“I know.”
“For everything. For the Bellman. For the victims. For the pain I caused you.”
“I know.”
“Can you forgive me?”
She was silent for a long moment.
“I’m trying.”
He took her hand.
His fingers were warm.
“That’s all I ask.”
They sat together in the silence.
The light grew brighter.
The shadows faded.
The church was no longer cold.