Page 23 of Grift

Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon

looking toward Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel,

the hair of your head like purple cloth—

a king could be held captive in your tresses.

How beautiful you are and how pleasant,

my love, with such delights!

Your stature is like a palm tree;

your breasts are clusters of fruit.

I said, “I will climb the palm tree

and take hold of its fruit.”

May your breasts be like clusters of grapes,

and the fragrance of your breath like apricots.

There’s uncomfortable shifting around the church, but Catriona brings it home with a flourish.

Come, my love,

let’s go to the field;

let’s spend the night among the henna blossoms.

Let’s go early to the vineyards;

let’s see if the vine has budded,

if the blossom has opened,

if the pomegranates are in bloom.

There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes give off a fragrance,

and at our doors is every delicacy—

new as well as old.

I have treasured them up for you, my love.

She smiles broadly, and graciously waves the minister back, who can’t seem to speak until she’s back in her seat in the front row. I should kill him, but he’s looking at me again.

“The rings,” he says.

Callan efficiently produces the ring I chose at the last minute. A delicate gold band was delivered for me to give to Jessica, but it looked so damn plain. It didn’t go with the engagement ring I’d insisted on buying her, either. She seems like a woman who would appreciate rings that match. So I’d gotten a delicate eternity band, circled in diamonds. The irony’s not lost on me. She’s not wearing the engagement ring yet, either, something I need to fix.

Hell, I’m a pragmatist.

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