The Mirror Man, стр. 92
They listened in silence to a few muffled sounds coming from the bedroom, none of them as worrisome as they thought they ought to be. They exchanged anxious glances, but everything that needed saying between them had already been said.
It was only a few minutes before Natalie emerged from the room, struggling with the slumping body of Parker against her shoulder. He looked awake, but zombie-like, and was able to walk uneasily under her guidance. She nodded back toward the room.
“You take care of him,” she said. “I’ll get this one in the car and then I’m leaving.”
“Did it work?” Jeremiah asked. “Is it all done?”
She shook her head slightly. “I hope so. I did my best. But you should both be prepared for some overlap in memory. Some gaps. You’ll just have to work with it.”
She started slowly down the stairs with her burden and turned when Jeremiah spoke again.
“Natalie. You should know that I have evidence about all of this. I plan to turn it in. If I were you, I’d get far away before this all comes out. You may still have a chance.”
She nodded.
“Good luck, Jeremiah,” she said. “Both of you.”
Jeremiah and his clone went into the bedroom where they found Parker’s clone limp in a chair, his head lolling uncomfortably to one side. Together, they lifted him up and laid him carefully onto the bed, each of them pulling off one shoe and positioning a leg.
They stood there, sharing a long, silent exchange, and Jeremiah held out his hand to his double. It felt strange to shake his hand, but appropriate somehow.
“I don’t know if I can leave you out of this when the truth comes out,” he said. “I can try, but you need to be prepared for it. People may come looking for you.”
“If everything you’ve told me is true, then they’ll have no reason to believe I’m not who I say I am. And you won’t be here to dispute it. Where will you go now?”
“I don’t know. A fresh start. Somewhere new.”
Jeremiah started out of the room, leaving his clone to pick up the pieces of the shattered life he was walking away from. He turned back then, a final question occurring to him.
“Will you ever tell him?” He nodded toward Parker’s clone on the bed.
The clone hesitated for a moment and then looked back at the boy with a thoughtful expression.
“No,” he said finally. “I don’t think I will. I really don’t see the point.”
At the car, Parker was in the back seat now, looking slightly dazed. His head leaned heavily against the window and Louie’s head lay contentedly in the boy’s lap. Jeremiah breathed a sigh of real relief at the sight.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Let’s just go, Dad. I’m okay.”
Jeremiah nodded, turned the key and adjusted the rearview mirror. Before he drove away toward a future that held as much hope now as it did uncertainty, he took a moment to peer into his own eyes. It seemed to him that it was the first time he ever really understood what he was looking at; all at once, he saw the man he’d been, the man he had become and, more importantly, the man he was going to be. He actually smiled.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Acknowledgments
Writing a novel is a task done mainly all alone. Bringing it from a wisp of an idea to a solid thing you can hold in your hand, however, takes a small army. There are many I have to thank:
My agent at The Gernert Company, Will Roberts, for his meticulous eye, sustained encouragement and enthusiasm, and the ability to gently keep me on the right track. Margot Mallinson, my editor at Mira, for her belief in this story, in me as an author, and her amazing capacity to make a book shine. Libby McGuire, whose expertise I was so fortunate to enjoy during her time as an agent. Michelle Meade, who helped to polish my story in ways that truly mattered. Thomas Hess, Leanna Hamill and Jennifer Harris, collectively known as The N.I.P.s—the best and most demanding writing group ever—and good friends, to boot. Stacie Julian and Linda MacKinnon—you know what you did, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. My incredible group of girlfriends for all the laughs, good times, and so much encouragement. To my father, Charles Arena, and my whole gigantic family, but especially to Isabelle, Julian and Greg, who supported me, cheered me on, and probably heard 27 different iterations of this book. They never once said “no” when I asked if I could read them just one more scene—even though I’m sure they really wanted to. You should know it made a difference. And thanks, finally, to Louie, who made sure I was never really working all alone. I miss you more than words can say, buddy, so I’ll just leave it at Woof!
My apologies to anyone I may have omitted. It’s never intentional.
ISBN-13: 9781488056123
The Mirror Man
Copyright © 2020 by Jane Gilmartin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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