Read Online Heartsong by Debbie Macomber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debbie Macomber
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Malloy smiled warmly at Skye, and his strong hand closed firmly over hers. “You’re everything Jordan said and more.” He released her hand slowly. His eyes, trapping hers, possessed a mocking gleam.
“Weren’t we on our way to a meeting?” Jordan asked curtly.
“We were.” Bill smiled. “I know how Dan hates to be kept waiting.”
“Then let’s get moving.” Jordan’s voice sounded thin and brittle.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Skye.” Jordan’s friend’s gaze continued to hold hers.
“Yes,” she said in some confusion. Her attention darted from one man to the other. Bill was finding something highly amusing, but what? Jordan was recognizably upset. His lips were firmly compressed, as if he was holding his anger tightly in check.
“I’ll phone you,” he promised Skye, ushering his friend out the door. Gently his hand touched her cheek.
Skye watched them go, thoroughly bewildered. Jordan had never mentioned why he’d stopped by. Although he hadn’t said he was returning to LA, Skye had gotten the impression he was. She honestly hadn’t expected to see him again.
A shiver danced over her skin, reminding her she was wet. She didn’t care to ponder the question of what exactly had caused her skin to quiver.
The bathwater steamed up the bathroom mirror. It was a luxury to linger in the tub. Skye could actually feel the hot water chase away her chill. Scooping the moisture over herself with the washcloth, her thoughts drifted back to her visit with Peggy. It was almost unbelievable that her sister-in-law would talk to her like that. And because the things Peggy said were so untrue, it hurt all the more. Skye had come so far, considering that the grief had been overwhelming at first. It was as if the pieces of her life had crumbled before her. But simply because she was a living, breathing soul, she found herself forced into a resilient, elastic world. Although others cared, they couldn’t know the emotional torture she had endured. Suddenly a gnawing pain swelled inside her until her eyes burned with tears.
Resting her head against the back of the tub, she stared sightlessly at the ceiling, tears streaming unheeded down her face. Could it be that Peggy was right? Had all this grief lain just below the surface, not really being dealt with at all? Skye examined the last eight years of her life. Had she really made a martyr of herself? Deflecting malerelationships and commitment to another man? But Glen had been so special. He was the only man she’d ever loved, ever wanted. Loving another would betray what they had shared. It had been cruel and heartless to take him from her.
It came to her then. Profound and deep. The shock raised goose bumps over her pale skin, although she lay in a tub of steaming water.
She blamed God for taking Glen
. Over the years she had yielded other areas of her life to her Lord but had stubbornly withheld this one facet of her Christian walk. Her faith had been smaller than a mustard seed. Instead of looking upon his death and all that followed as having worked together for her good, Skye had never forgiven God.
Rising from her bath, she wrapped a towel around herself and faced the bathroom mirror. With jerking movements she wiped away the steam to examine herself. Sally was right; her hairstyle—the coiled bun—was harsh and purposely unattractive. With troubled eyes and her heart hammering, she pulled the pins and watched her hair tumble down. It needed to be cut to a more manageable length. Her pale cheeks looked bloodless and waxen. How long had it been since she’d purposely made herself attractive? But perhaps she looked wan because she was seeing herself with new soul-searching eyes.
She dressed quickly, an urgency driving her. Throwing open the doors to her closet, she critically examined its contents. Her clothes were outdated and unappealing—beiges, grays, browns, and blacks. The exceptions were a few colorful outfits her family had given her for
“Weren’t we on our way to a meeting?” Jordan asked curtly.
“We were.” Bill smiled. “I know how Dan hates to be kept waiting.”
“Then let’s get moving.” Jordan’s voice sounded thin and brittle.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Skye.” Jordan’s friend’s gaze continued to hold hers.
“Yes,” she said in some confusion. Her attention darted from one man to the other. Bill was finding something highly amusing, but what? Jordan was recognizably upset. His lips were firmly compressed, as if he was holding his anger tightly in check.
“I’ll phone you,” he promised Skye, ushering his friend out the door. Gently his hand touched her cheek.
Skye watched them go, thoroughly bewildered. Jordan had never mentioned why he’d stopped by. Although he hadn’t said he was returning to LA, Skye had gotten the impression he was. She honestly hadn’t expected to see him again.
A shiver danced over her skin, reminding her she was wet. She didn’t care to ponder the question of what exactly had caused her skin to quiver.
The bathwater steamed up the bathroom mirror. It was a luxury to linger in the tub. Skye could actually feel the hot water chase away her chill. Scooping the moisture over herself with the washcloth, her thoughts drifted back to her visit with Peggy. It was almost unbelievable that her sister-in-law would talk to her like that. And because the things Peggy said were so untrue, it hurt all the more. Skye had come so far, considering that the grief had been overwhelming at first. It was as if the pieces of her life had crumbled before her. But simply because she was a living, breathing soul, she found herself forced into a resilient, elastic world. Although others cared, they couldn’t know the emotional torture she had endured. Suddenly a gnawing pain swelled inside her until her eyes burned with tears.
Resting her head against the back of the tub, she stared sightlessly at the ceiling, tears streaming unheeded down her face. Could it be that Peggy was right? Had all this grief lain just below the surface, not really being dealt with at all? Skye examined the last eight years of her life. Had she really made a martyr of herself? Deflecting malerelationships and commitment to another man? But Glen had been so special. He was the only man she’d ever loved, ever wanted. Loving another would betray what they had shared. It had been cruel and heartless to take him from her.
It came to her then. Profound and deep. The shock raised goose bumps over her pale skin, although she lay in a tub of steaming water.
She blamed God for taking Glen
. Over the years she had yielded other areas of her life to her Lord but had stubbornly withheld this one facet of her Christian walk. Her faith had been smaller than a mustard seed. Instead of looking upon his death and all that followed as having worked together for her good, Skye had never forgiven God.
Rising from her bath, she wrapped a towel around herself and faced the bathroom mirror. With jerking movements she wiped away the steam to examine herself. Sally was right; her hairstyle—the coiled bun—was harsh and purposely unattractive. With troubled eyes and her heart hammering, she pulled the pins and watched her hair tumble down. It needed to be cut to a more manageable length. Her pale cheeks looked bloodless and waxen. How long had it been since she’d purposely made herself attractive? But perhaps she looked wan because she was seeing herself with new soul-searching eyes.
She dressed quickly, an urgency driving her. Throwing open the doors to her closet, she critically examined its contents. Her clothes were outdated and unappealing—beiges, grays, browns, and blacks. The exceptions were a few colorful outfits her family had given her for
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