Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)
Read Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Kennedy Ryan,Lisa Christmas
This book is a continuation of book 1, My Soul to Keep,
and should be read after that one.
Thank you for reading!
Down to My Soul
Copyright (c) Kennedy Ryan, 2016
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art:
Cover Photos:
iStock
Dollar Photo
Editing:
Lisa Christman,
Adepts Edits
Proofreading:
Interior Design and Formatting:
Christine Borgford,
Perfectly Publishable
Table of Contents
Dedicated to the readers who fell in love with Rhys + Kai! You encourage me more than you’ll ever know
.
FIRST I’LL THANK GOD. MAYBE AN
odd way to kick off a romance novel, but the prayer I learned as a child,
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord, my soul to keep . . .”
was an inspiration, not only for the heroine’s tattoo, but was a kernel of thought when I started this book. It grew into Rhys and Kai’s journey. I don’t take imagination for granted, and believe it is not only sublime, but in many ways, divine.
Thank you to my little tribe of author sisters who answer my dumb questions, talk me off ledges when I’m on the verge of quitting, and best of all, make me laugh!
Thank you to all the bloggers, tooooo many to name, who have supported this series and me personally. I don’t take it or you for granted—ever. Your passion for and dedication to books is astounding and appreciated.
Thank you to my beta readers who put up with so much on this one! The re-reads and second . . . third . . . fourth passes at the same passages, sometimes only slightly different from the last! LOL! Your honesty and enthusiasm for this story, for this series, buttressed me so often.
Thank you for all your feedback and constructive love.
To my ladies in Kennedy Ryan Books on Facebook! You guys make me smile every day. You are my happy place. The ones always shouting for me and yelling at the top of your lungs for my books. Thank you for being awesome.
And I must always acknowledge the ones who sacrifice the most every time I write a book. Who deal with me being lost in my head for months on end, neglecting too much and paying attention not enough. My lifetime lover and husband of 19 years. All we need is a couple of forevers, baby. And to my son who is the most beautiful challenge I’ve encountered in this life. I’m a better person for raising you.
“Deep calls out to deep . . .”—Psalm 42:7
Glory Falls
8 Years Old
DADDY’S ALWAYS WORKING.
His head is bent over the Bible. It takes him all week to get ready for his Sunday sermons, and Mama says leave him be ‘cause Daddy does the most important work in the world. He shepherds God’s flock.
“Baaaaaaa,” I say softly from the door to his study.
I’m Daddy’s favorite sheep, and when I need him, all I have to say is . . .
“Baaaaaaa.” Louder now ‘cause Mama says Daddy gets lost in the Word sometimes. Daddy says that’s the only place where he’s found. He looks up from his work, frown disappearing as soon as he spots me in the door.
“Look at you, baby girl.” His dark eyes—Cocoa Puff brown—smile at me over the rims of his reading glasses. “I thought the recital wasn’t for a few days. You’re already dressed up.”
I pluck at the layers of the lavender tutu, fluffy as cotton candy, and wriggle my toes in my new ballet slippers.
“I wanted you to see.” My feet shuffle me quickly over to his big, messy desk.
He motions for me to scoot the last few inches forward and sit on his lap, running his hand over the long braids hanging down to my waist.
“Prettiest little thing in Glory Falls.” He kisses my forehead like he does every night before bed. “You’re gonna dance for Daddy at this fancy recital?”
“Yes, sir.” I nod and lean back, hoping he won’t make me go just yet. Sometimes if I sit real quiet, he’ll let me stay while he studies. I hold my breath until he turns back to the Bible, tucking our legs under the desk.
Yellow and pink highlight the thick columns of words on the pages. I want to ask him what he’s working on, but stay quiet because I want to stay.
“I know you want to know, little preacher girl, so go ahead and ask.”
“Why do you call me ‘little preacher girl’?” I smile, flashing the little hole where my front tooth used to be. “I’m gonna be a dancer.”
“Last week it was a singer.”
“I gonna be both! Like Cher.”
A laugh shakes in his chest at my back.
“Your Aunt Ruthie oughta be whooped for making you watch them old tapes. Cher, of all people. Anybody as interested in sermons as you are oughta be a preacher.”
I could tell him that it’s not so much the sermons that interest me as it is him. Spending time with him. Being his favorite sheep, but I don’t. He loves to think of me as his little preacher. And it’s true that the sermons interest me, just not as much as Daddy does.
“What’s this one about?” I point to a line of scripture tucked in the middle of one column, circled and highlighted and surrounded by stars. “
Deep calls out to deep.
What’s that mean?”
“One of my favorites. That’s about . . . well, it’s like . . .” He looks down at me, his eyebrows pulling together. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Mama says you make the hard stuff easy, Daddy.”
Everybody knows he’s the best preacher in town. People squeeze into Glory Falls Baptist’s wooden pews every Sunday to hear him.
“She does, does she? Well, I try.” His face lights up in that way Mama says tells you he’s on to something. “It means that God has a way of connecting the deepest parts of Himself with the deepest parts of us. We try to run. We let things get in the way, but His love is so deep that it can get past everything to reach us.”
His voice drops off and I hear him swallow.
“Even when we make mistakes and we try to hide, his love has a way of finding us.”
“Can people love like that?” I look up at him, past his strong chin and nose that was broken once in a fight before he met the Lord, and straight in the eyes. “I mean, can people love you no matter what? In the deep calls out to deep kinda way?”
Daddy tilts his head, his eyes squinching at the corners, a little bit of a smile on his face.
“Well, we’re made in His image, so I guess we can, baby girl.”
“That’s how you love me?” The thought makes me smile and my heart feels all big and warm behind the tight stretch of my leotard.
“Absolutely.” He tugs one of my braids.
“And Mama? That’s how you love Mama?”