“She was not religiously inclined.”
SØREN KIERKEGAARD
“I was by nature religiously inclined.”
REGINE OLSEN
For her confirmation, Regina wore white. Her body trembled with the sweetness of the essence of lily of the valley her father had given her that morning as a present. But as Regina gave herself to God, as the flames flickered on the tall white candles lining the pews, as the scent of incense cascaded through her, Regina searched for Søren Kierkegaard’s pale face in every dark corner of the simple wooden church.
“I see many beautiful young souls before me,” the priest said. His long, white beard reached his collar, and his large bony hands hung at his sides. The row of ten girls in white stood up taller, each hoping to be thought the most beautiful soul. Parents and friends nodded, smiling from the pews.
“I see many beautiful young girls, each pining for love, each wishing for marriage.”
The girls shifted. “Not I,” their faces seemed to say. Each girl looked askance at her neighbor. Perhaps she was the desperate one.
“Young ladies, beware. There is a pale horse, whose rider is death,” the priest said. “Do not open the door to him. There is only one who can satisfy you in the way you want.”
Peering out over the tops of the bonneted heads of the women and the uncovered heads of the men, Regina sought the one she wanted. He was not there.
“Jesus is the brave warrior for whom your heart clamors. Jesus is the rider on the white horse, the one whose name is Faithful and True. He alone knows you in the way you long to be known, and yet loves you still. He is the one who finds you altogether lovely, who is ravished by your beauty.”
No one would be ravished by my beauty if they really knew me, Regina thought. It’s lucky I don’t let them in.
“Jesus is the bridegroom, the one who has given up everything for you. He died so that you might live. Girls, on this day when you marry the church, I urge you to seek one thing and one thing only. Satisfy yourself with the Lord, and He will give you all the desires of your heart.”
Yes, Regina thought. Yes. I will satisfy myself with God so He will give me Søren. God, I seek You.
She filled her mind with the rectangles of the pews, the tiny squares of blue sky visible through the windows, the intersection of the simple wooden cross on the altar. There. I’ve done it. I’ve sought God. I wonder when I’ll get Søren.
The priest paused, his eyes scanning each girl.
“But do not think … ,” he said, so quietly that Regina felt as if he were talking directly to her. “Do not think that if you satisfy yourself with God, your desires will remain as they are now. No. Your desires will be for the Lord, for intimacy with Him, for His will. Only when God is at the center of your heart will your other relationships be healthy. And who else could you trust? God is the only one who will never leave you, never forsake you.”
The priest chanted the blessings over the line of girls. The organ struck up a refrain. Lord, forgive me, Regina prayed. Help me love You and You alone. Make me pure.
But she found it hard to listen to anything but the beating of her heart. Sø-ren-Kier-ke-gaard. It beat louder and louder, drowning out the service, causing her to stumble over her prayers and muting whatever answer God was trying to give her.
A small, single-hearted prayer crept out of the heartbeat. Lord, make Søren Kierkegaard propose before Fritz does. As the prayer wound its way up the candle smoke, Regina Olsen ceased to be. In her place, stood only a girl in white who loved a man named Søren.
That afternoon, Regina had just sat down at the piano to sing for her family when the doorknocker called. Let it be him, Regina thought. It couldn’t be him.
“Søren Kierkegaard,” Anna announced. She stood in the hallway, her soft, downy face unsure whether to usher him in to the family gathering.
“I am interrupting,” Søren said, holding his hat poised above his head.
The Councilor dragged him in by the elbow. “You must hear Regina,” he said. “She sings like an angel.”
“He’s heard me before,” Regina said.
“I will stay for only one song,” Søren said.
Regina felt her stomach quake as she sang. “Do oh na. No oh bis. Pa ah chem. Pa chem.” Regina wasn’t really watching Søren, of course, but she did notice that he closed his eyes while she sang, as if drinking in the sound of her voice.
She finished and swung round on the piano bench. As Søren stood up and approached her, something strange happened to her vision. Her parents, Olga, Jonas, Cornelia, Marie, and Marie’s husband Johan all faded into the background; only Søren stood out in sharp relief. A narrow beam of sun poured down on him through the tall windows of the drawing room.
Regina’s heart throbbed in her chest.
“You looked beautiful in white this morning,” Søren said.
“That’s impossible. I didn’t see you anywhere.” She halted abruptly. Had she given away the fact that she’d been looking for him?
“I lurk only in the darkest corners,” he said. He leaned closer. “Is that enticing scent lily of the valley?”
“My father gave it to me,” she said, picking at the edges of her dark gown with her fingers, “for my confirmation.”
“It is my favorite,” he said. Then he bowed to leave.
Don’t go, she thought.
“I will call on you tomorrow,” he said, “because I always have your permission.”