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"Eleanor," he said "Tell ht now"

She felt the force of his will like a wall pressing against her

"No You won’t even tell me your name"

"If I tell you my nao and she pulled her arm back and held it to her stomach Her entire body fluttered from the touch of his hand on her hand, and the unrepentant way he studied her

She stood still and silent while he stared at her face until she reluctantly met his eyes

"Will you tell anybody what I tell you?" She wasn’t wild about telling anyone so so private about herself, but for some reason, a reason she couldn’t name, she trusted this man, this priest

"Not a soul"

"Okay Fine Na on his motorcycle and pulled out what appeared to be a Bible in soe He flipped opened the orn cover to a page where he’d written his na

Søren Magnussen

She reached out and with the tip of her finger traced the letters in the naht?"

"You say it like an American"

"How am I supposed to say it?"

"I like the way you say it You should know, that’s not the name anyone here will ever call me That’s what o by what my father named me--Marcus Stearns"

"So no one here knows your real nanussen in his Bible seemed to hint that he considered Søren his real name, not Marcus

"Only you And now that you know it, I believe you owedeal"

"Eleanor--"

"I go by Elle, not Eleanor"

"Eleanor is the name of queens Elle is merely a French pronoun that means she or her I will call you Eleanor And now, Eleanor, tell me how you arrived at the burns on your wrist Then we’ll discuss the knees"

"Curling iron"

"Self-inflicted or is so you?"

"Self-inflicted"

"Why did you do it?"

"For fun"