what i liked: “when he smiled at me, i felt it all the way down to my toes.”
lucky passed on the stew in favor of the bottle of red wine. “if a pock-marked midget from nantucket smiled at you, you would feel it all the way down to your toes” (p. 72).
“i want to fill your life with color and warmth. i want to fill it with light” (p. 140).
“are you crying? for me?” she said weakly.
“don’t you think you’re worth it?”
something inside her cracked. she writhed inside to escape the feeling, but it was there nonetheless, growing with the light touch of his hand on her shoulder, with every soft word he spoke. she was sure if she put her hands against her heart, her palms would come away covered with her own blood. was that what this man wanted? for her to bleed for him? (p. 152).
“because for some of us, one mile can be farther to walk than thirty” (p. 164).
“i know what i am. i never pretended to be anything else. not once. not ever!” she put her hand on the edge of the wagon seat. “and here you are, borrowing michael’s wagon and his horses and his gold and using his wife.” she laughed at him. “and what do you call yourself? his brother” (p. 186).
she destroyed his dreams, and he made her windchimes (p. 284).
you are all fair, my love;
there is no flaw in you.
song of solomon 4:7 (p. 305).
“i’m not your father! i’m not duke! i’m not some gent paying for half an hour in your bed!” his hands tightened on her arms. “i’m your husband! i don’t take what you feel lightly” (p. 307).
“show me this father of yours, michael,” she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.
“i am,” michael said quietly.
“where? i don’t see him. maybe if he stood before me, i’d believe he existed.” and she could spit in his face for everything that had happened to her and her mother.
“he’s in me. i’m showing him to you every hour of every day, the only way i know how” (pp. 315-316).
what sucked: the length. good heavens, ms. rivers is verbose, especially in the last hundred pages or so.
having said all that: i liked it. there’s good stuff here.