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“I wasn’t the violin out of tune anymore. It was like he suddenly came to the piano and played the A so I could tune my string. It felt so right to be next to him, so comfortable. My rapid-beating heart began to slow, and I let my exhausted body lean closer to him. I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. He stroked the side of my face until, at last, my mind and body gave up the fight of the last two days and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.”

Quote by Robin M. King

Book:Remembrandt
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Remembrandt

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Robin M. King

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“We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.” “André Berthiaume,” I said. “What?” he asked. “The French writer who said that.” Mr. Daly smiled and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by now that you’ve read that somewhere. What he meant is that being an operative is a mask we wear, a job we do. It’s not exactly who we are, but it’s always a part of us too. If I stopped being a handler tomorrow, some piece of me would always be on a mission.” I thought about that for a minute. “So what you’re saying is now that I’m an operative, there’s no turning back?” “No.” He sat up straight and leaned closer to the railing. His voice came out with a quiet intensity. “What I’m saying is that it was already a part of you before you even got here.”

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“I said, "Jesse, don't flatter yourself that I did this for you. I mean, it has been nothing but one giant pain in the neck, having you for a roommate. Do you think I like having to come home from school or from work or whatever and having to explain stuff like the Bay of Pigs to you? Believe me, life with you is no picnic." He didn't say anything. He just kept pulling me along. "Or what about Tad?" I said, bringing up what I knew was a sore subject. "I mean, you think I like having you tag along on my dates? Having you out of my life is going to make things a lot simpler, so don't think, you know, I did this for you. I only did it because that stupid cat of yours has been crying its head off. And also because anything I can do to make your stupid girlfriend mad, I will." "Nombre de Dios, Susannah," Jesse muttered. "Maria's not my girlfriend." "Well, she certainly used to be," I said. "And what about that, anyway? That girl is a full-on skank, Jesse. I can't believe you ever agreed to marry her. I mean, what were you thinking, anyway? Couldn't you see what she was like underneath all that lace?”

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“Well, I guess slave-runners aren't really my cup of tea. That is who you married instead, right? A slave-runner. Your father must have been so proud." That wiped the grin right off her face. "You leave my father out of this," she snarled. "Oh, why?" I asked. "Tell me something, is he sore at you? Your dad, I mean. You know, for having Jesse killed? Because I imagine he would be. I mean, basically, thanks to you, the de Silva family line ran out. And your kids with that Diego dude turned out to be, as we've already discussed, major losers. I bet whenever you run into your dad out there, you know, on the spiritual plane, he doesn't even say hi anymore, does he? That's gotta hurt." I'm not sure how much of that, if any, Maria actually understood. Still, she seemed plenty mad.”

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