Mirror of My Soul by Joey Hill (book club recommendations .TXT) 📕

there, even though people are more psychologically cowed by threats to genitalia, nipples. She was small-boned, like my wife. Delicate hands, like yours.

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Mirror of My Soul

“It’s funny.” He drew a breath. “That’s not the worst thing I’ve done. I’ve taken a lot of lives, buried them where their families will never know what happened to them.

For causes I believed in. Even her… We got the information, we saved lives. But when I touched my wife… Even later, when I’d touch Leila’s hands or her face, or you… When I see Violet’s delicate fingers reach out toward Mac, see how large his hand is over hers… Sometimes I can’t help but remember that woman. I couldn’t do it anymore.

Everyone has their threshold. I did the job that day, but that was the end. I was sick, inside and out. All I knew was I had to come home.”

To the arms of a woman who didn’t have the strength to heal you. Marguerite felt the tears rise in her throat.

He sat down on a stump, still facing away from her. “In this civilized world…” The word came out like a curse through his teeth. “I don’t abuse women. I’d never strike one in violence, would lay my life on the line for any of them in danger. But

somewhere, if she’s still alive, there’s a woman who dreams of me only when she’s in the grip of a nightmare.”

The breeze moved over the pond, creating ripples, making the cattails dance, the lilies drift slowly back and forth. A duck entered the waters, paddling, her tail waddling, dipping her beak.

At length, Marguerite stood up, moved to stand before him. For once it was he who was reluctant to meet her eyes. She watched the lashes raise, the golden brown gaze climb to her face. When he got there, she thought there was nothing that could tear at a woman’s heart like fear in a strong man’s eyes. Not fear of violence or danger. Fear of loss. Fear of rejection, fear of not being loved when he didn’t meet expectations.

Reaching out her hand, she grazed her fingertips over his face and then moved in, nudging until he parted his knees. The position compelled him to wrap his arms around her waist and hips, hold her in close to him. His jaw pressed into her soft breasts, the tips of her braided hair whispering along his neck as she bent her head over his.

“You don’t have to be the one who always takes care of someone else, you know. In a real relationship, so I’ve heard, people take care of each other.”

He drew back and touched her face. “Is that what we have, you and me? A

relationship?”

“That’s a frightening term for me. But I think…we have something.”

He nodded, laid his forehead on her shoulder. “I don’t deserve you. I’m not sure I deserve anyone.”

“Maybe I’m your penance.” She lifted his chin, gave him an arch look. “And that’s why I put you through hell every several days or so. I’m a punishment sent to you by God.”

He chuckled at last. The sound of it released the worry around her heart, made her arms close around his shoulders and hold him tightly to her. After a moment he 123

Joey W. Hill

returned the embrace, burrowing his nose in the tender pocket of her collarbone, breathing her in.

“You’re my salvation, angel.” His grip tightened. “I loved her. But she never got into my soul as deeply as you did the first time I touched you.”

It took a moment for her to register the significance of that statement. When she did, she couldn’t speak. “I felt lonely without you this morning,” he continued. “That’s the main reason I followed you out here.”

“I didn’t want to go, thinking you might have to leave and I wouldn’t see you until Friday night.” She shook her head. “What are we going to do about that? The whole desolate-without-each-other thing.”

“That’s easy. Marry me.”

Her eyes widened in shock. She didn’t ask if he was serious, since she could well see by his expression that he was.

“A reasonable engagement, followed by a marriage ceremony, as quiet or elaborate as you like, anything you want. You want big and opulent, we’ll do it, or something small and lovely, maybe at my house.”

“Tyler.” She simply couldn’t think of anything to say or do to such a proposition. “I barely know you… Okay, yes we know each other.” She rolled her eyes at his raised brow. “But I don’t even know… Do you shave up or down, are you a morning or night person? Do you spend your spare time watching reality TV?”

“Would that be a deal breaker?”

“Absolutely.” She threw up her hands, tried to struggle away, but he held her

securely. “You’re moving too fast.”

“That’s why I said engaged.”

“What if I want to get married in an airplane? Jumping out of an airplane?”

He lifted a shoulder and rose. “I said I’d do anything for you, angel.” Closing his hand over hers, he captured her in his gaze. “It’s soon, if we’re thinking of time, but I love you, Marguerite. That’s not going to stop today, tomorrow, or in a thousand years from now. And I think you need to know that.”

“I need to think about this.”

“Think as long as you need. I shave upward, I’m a night person and no, I don’t watch garbage that insults the hard work and struggles of talented scriptwriters. You think of any other questions, you let me know. Now, let me tell you about this deli nearby that I think we should check out for lunch…”

She resisted the urge to scream as he closed his arms around her in a hug, lifting her off her feet. With his face pressed hard against her hair, he held on to her in a way she knew made it impossible for her to refuse him anything.

In that, they were entirely too alike.

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