Mirror of My Soul

Page 53

And Brendan?”
“Sir?” He kept the polite, formal address and Tyler didn’t disabuse him of it, though he appreciated the man’s sensitivity, underscoring his presence was not intended to usurp his host’s.
“Follow that instinct that brought you here. Don’t worry about territory and bullshit. I’ll deal with whatever I have to deal with, but she’s the most important thing.” Brendan nodded. Cleared his throat. “She loves you, Master Tyler. It was obvious to everyone the other night. Obvious to those who know how to really see. I have no intentions of pretending otherwise. You’re right. She’s the most important thing.” There was a hammock down near the water, strung between two of the live oaks.
Sarah had gotten Marguerite ensconced in it, a glass of tea and a book of Japanese poetry Gen had brought over close at hand should she show interest in anything other than staring or sleeping. Marguerite’s back was to them, her hair whispering back and forth over the curve of her shoulder as the breeze played off the water, rocked the hammock. Robert rose at their approach, nodded. At Tyler’s glance, he left them.
Resisting impulse, Tyler took his place in the chair, nodded at Brendan to go forward.
The man ducked under the hammock tie and knelt facing her. Taking the small duffel bag he’d brought off his shoulder, he put it on the ground next to him.
Her eyes were open and they shifted slowly to him. It startled Brendan, for he remembered the distance that had been in them when she was a teenager at the orphanage. When he’d met her again twenty years later, it had been much improved.
The reserve had still been there, which was perhaps why he’d hesitated to identify himself to her, but she’d become more present in her own life. The eyes he looked into now were the eyes of that fourteen-year-old. Once again indifferent to life, careless of death, waiting for it. Maybe not even having the energy to embrace it. But he had to believe it was surface, a haven of retreat. Twenty years did not disappear in a day.
“Mistress.” He said it with soft reverence. “Great lady. I understand you’ve been performing great deeds of late.”
She blinked.
“I don’t want to offend you by being here, but I felt I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he pressed on. “One I can’t ever repay, but I’m hoping you’ll allow me one gesture at least.” He opened the bag, removed a much worn and well-loved teddy bear from it.
Around its neck was a faded ribbon that might have once been blue. Thinking of it clasped in a boy’s arms, Tyler expected it to be bigger, rather than the small toy that Brendan held easily.
“You remember this?”
He took Marguerite’s hand and laid it over the bear. When her fingers curled into it after a moment, Tyler leaned forward. She drew it out of Brendan’s grasp, brought it in to her body where he could no longer see it from the back. He wished the chair were over where he could see her face, but he didn’t want to move and interfere. From watching Brendan’s changing expressions, he sensed that it would be beneficial for him to stay quiet, unobtrusive.
“I didn’t think you remembered me. But I remembered you. I know you’re tired of all the awfulness. I don’t know why wonderful people sometimes have to deal with so much evil. But sometimes you meet a person who’s gone through so much that she never forgets what’s really important in this life. Who makes everyone around her feel privileged to know her. Who refuses to keep a little boy’s teddy bear, even though he knows now she had more need of it than he did. Who made him take it because she thought he might suffer one less pang of fear or loneliness if he had it with him.
“Do you know the lone survivor syndrome? You’re the only one who survives, so you wish you had died with your family. You know there’s nothing you could have done or will do that will make their deaths worth it, that will explain why you survived and they didn’t. As the years go on, you realize you won’t be the person who finds the cure for cancer or ends poverty. But I want you to think about what you gave me. What you’ve given to Marius, all the subs at The Zone.” He nodded, apparently responding to something he saw in her expression. “You look doubtful. But maybe it isn’t important that you’re saving masses or even saving one person. It’s that you make the effort to save anyone, because when you reach out to save anyone, you’re saying that person is important, worthwhile, they’re needed. That they’re an intrinsic part of all of us.”
His eyes full of open, unconditional love for her, he reached out, apparently put his hands over hers on the bear.
“I want you to have this as a reminder of how you changed my life. There are reasons to stay here. Not just because we need you, but I think because you need us. I know you’ve been thinking about having another session with me.” His tone changed, became teasing. He actually winked, his demeanor as comfortable as if she’d been fully herself. “Or at least, I hope you have. And Master Tyler, he’s like a puppy around you.
What other woman could beat him up and have him come back for more?
“Now there’s a hint of a smile.” Brendan glanced up, exchanged a look with Tyler.
The man reached forward, uttered a quiet murmur that came to Tyler on the breeze.
“With your permission, lady.”
Brendan stroked her hair from her temple, laid his palm against her cheek. “We love you, Mistress. Very much.”
It got quiet, just the wind from the water and the cry of a heron drifting to them.
Then Tyler heard Marguerite speak.
“Water.”
Brendan leaned toward the iced tea, but he stopped as she spoke again. “Water.” Brendan glanced behind him, at the banks of the Gulf, then over at Tyler. Her right arm lifted, pointing.
Tyler rose, his concern propelling him to his feet. “Watch her collarbone and the left arm,” he said. The other man inclined his head, put his arms into the hammock and lifted her out. Her arms were folded up against herself, her skirt fluttering over his tanned arm. Turning carefully, he moved toward the water’s edge, Tyler right behind him.
“Down there… On the bank.” Marguerite’s voice again.
When Brendan set her down at the water’s edge, Tyler stood within arm’s reach behind her, Brendan in front of her, both men wary, protective. Tyler didn’t have to convey his concern; he was sure it was obvious in his eyes. And perhaps because of Brendan’s memories of her, he understood immediately where Sarah had not and stayed just as close to her.
Marguerite stood, looking out at the movement of the water, the blue sky, a formation of pelicans soaring above.
“Your adopted parents were good to you.” She spoke as succinctly as if they’d been having an interactive conversation all along, though Tyler saw her lick her dry lips, swallow.
“Yes, Mistress. I love them.”
“That doesn’t matter. Children will love a monster if we think it’s family. We love against everything that says don’t love.” She stared at the water moving around her ankles. “Did you know I’ve spent years donating my grandparents’ inheritance to different charities, not in spite of, but for love of my family? I wanted to help pay their karmic debt, to hope they find healing and peace together sooner, become who they were…before. Even though I can’t bear to look at a photo of them.” Her gaze turned to him briefly. “But your adopted parents were good to you. I’m glad. I was worried.”
She nodded, as if settling something with herself, then began to unbutton the front of the dress clumsily with her right hand. She stopped, impatience in her gaze. Glanced toward Brendan. “I want this off.”
The tone, so close to that of the imperious Mistress they knew she could be, startled both men. Brendan’s gaze shifted to Tyler. “With your permission…?” She looked at Tyler. “Will you trust me?”
He studied her quiet expression, the weak sway of her undernourished body. “To a point,” he said at last. “My heart wants to trust you, but my fear for you…” Breathing a sigh through his nose, he gave Brendan a curt nod. “She can’t lift the left arm.”
Brendan moved before her, unbuttoned each button carefully. She was completely naked under it except for the clavicle brace on her upper body and she lifted her chin as the dress fluttered back, showing that she was feeling the breeze on her skin, perhaps even enjoying it. Brendan eased her arm out of the sling so he could guide the dress off her entirely, as she’d demanded. He was as slow and patient as Tyler could wish, but Tyler saw the press of Marguerite’s lips, the tremor run through her. It made him wonder if he should have given her more pain medication this morning, since he’d been too shook up from last night to give her more than the bare minimum.
“My deepest apologies, Mistress,” Brendan said. When he began to guide her arm back into the sling, she shook her head and moved forward, taking a step sideways to move around him. When she stumbled unsteadily, both men moved in, their hands brushing as they made sure she didn’t fall. But she proceeded forward into the water.
Wearing only the necklace and the brace, she took one step deeper, then another.
The men stayed right with her. Marguerite’s eyes remained on the horizon, but she felt them around her, their concern and caring a bulwark on either side. She was absently surprised that Brendan hadn’t backed away when Tyler had moved closer, but both were apparently determined to keep her safe. Her mind rolled the thought around, but was curiously blank, peaceful. The cool touch of the water on her skin soothed as she felt it slide over everything she was. Blood, muscle, sinew, scars, beliefs… Marie Peninski. Marguerite Perruquet. A trusting child, a scarred teenager and now a woman who had lived an interesting life, to say the least. As her mind moved over the memories Brendan had stirred, they brought her forward to more recent images.
Chloe’s laughter, the children playing in her park. Tyler’s amber eyes, his easy touch. Brendan’s beauty. His devotion. The tea combination that Mr. Reynolds would bring in next. The embrace of the sky as she leaped out into the vastness of it. The impatiens she had decided to plant by the kitchen door in that bare shady spot that needed it, that was now only a mud puddle. A life without fear. A life filled with love and friendship. And suddenly, she found she wasn’t quite so tired anymore. He was gone. And she was free. Perhaps always could have been free, the moment she decided she was.