Mirror of My Soul Joey Hill (best books to read for women txt) 📖

Sarah thought he might have aged a decade since she saw him last. In his eyes she saw what was worrying him as clearly as if he’d shouted it. What was compelling him to call the counselor.

Not again. Not another one I’ve failed.

Tyler squeezed her hand. “Please keep her safe for me, Sarah. I’ll be right back.” He walked two steps down the stairs, turned back, his knuckles white on the rail, the harshness of his voice catching her attention. “If she stirs at all, Sarah, I don’t care, to go to the bathroom, whatever, don’t let her out of your sight. And call me immediately.”

“Mr. Winterman, she wouldn’t—”

He shook his head. “Nina’s last performance, when I intended to go to her, there was a look in her eyes. And I knew it then, in my gut. It wasn’t my fault, I know that, Sarah, but I know she did it because I couldn’t be what she needed. Didn’t matter if no one could or should have been asked to be so much, that’s the simple fact of it. I can’t lose Marguerite. And she’s got that same look in her eyes right now. So be as dramatic as you need to be to get me back in the room if she gets off that bed.”

He turned, continuing down the stairs, not able to bear the tears that sprang to Sarah’s eyes.

He dialed Komal’s number, explained the situation when the woman answered,

was grateful when she said she’d leave now. He had the presence of mind to offer to send a cab for her, but was told she would drive her own vehicle because she could get to him faster.

He went back to Marguerite. When he relieved Sarah of her duty, he lay down on the bed, curled around Marguerite’s cold body and put his arm over her, twining his fingers in her hands, clasped up against her chest. He rested his head just above hers, felt the signs of life and closed his eyes. I don’t deserve her, but she deserves to know there’s 188

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more to life than this. Please bring her back to me and I’ll never take her for granted. I’ll make every day about loving her, pleasing her, being with her… The ache was unbearable and he had to cut the prayer short. He pressed his lips to her ear. “Come back to your Master.

He’s going to fall apart without you in his life. Don’t leave me, angel.”

He tucked himself more closely around her, tried to give her his heat and

everything she needed to crave life, hunger for it again. Though he despairingly wondered if it would not be “again”, but for the very first time, if he succeeded at all.

* * * * *

Sarah’s hand on his shoulder told him when Komal had arrived. Rising, he kissed Marguerite’s temple and straightened his clothing. His hand lingered on her still hip.

She didn’t move and he had to force himself to turn away, to slide out the door where the quiet woman waited in the hall.

“I don’t know what to do for her. I don’t know what’s best. Please help us. Help her.”

Komal listened as he answered her questions, then she nodded. “Why don’t you go eat the meal Sarah has laid out for you and I’ll join you in a while? I’ll send Sarah out. I need some time to observe her, check some things, focus on what’s happening.”

He couldn’t quite make it down the stairs. He paced, ended up at last sitting on the landing, his feet through the slats, head against the rail, half dozing. Listening to Komal’s murmuring voice, he strained to hear a response from Marguerite.

Sarah brought him out of his concentration with a touch on his elbow. She sat the tray containing a sandwich, iced tea and an attractive bowl of fruit salad next to him. It all looked fresh like summertime and it hurt him to look at it. It made him imagine walking down his back steps in the morning to see Marguerite in summer white cotton, her head bent in concentration over a book, considering her tea samples. He wanted her to move in with him. He wasn’t so far from her business at his Tampa home and he could renovate it, make it more like the Gulf home if she liked it better. He’d hire security to keep an eye on her park twenty-four hours a day. He simply could not countenance being without her, not having her body next to him while she slept. She’d never wake alone from nightmares, never have to go to sleep worried or without someone to talk about those worries with. He was moving far too fast, he knew. He was scaring her with how quickly he was moving into her life. But she’d kept the ring. She had. No matter what else had happened, she’d kept it.

He put his hand into his pocket, felt the smooth touch of it there. The bastard had taken it off her finger, died with it clutched in his filthy hands. Mac had retrieved it for him. He’d have it cleaned, the prongs retightened, make sure it was perfect before he put it on her finger again. He pulled it out, stared at it.

“You should put it back on her.”

“He’s touched it.”

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“So have you.” Sarah put the sandwich in his other hand. “Eat.” She held up her ring hand. “It becomes a part of you and you feel its absence. Keenly. She’ll feel better with it on.”

Tyler swallowed a bite that he was sure was as delicious as anything Sarah made, but it had no taste. “I can’t right now. He broke her fingers. The knuckle’s all swollen.”

She lifted her arms, unlatched the silver chain of the cross she always wore, held out her hand.