Mirror Image

by Sandra Brown

  Tate, acknowledging that Eddy had every right to be perturbed with him, cleared his throat and sat up straighter in the leather easy chair. He stopped mindlessly twirling a pencil between his fingers.

  They were spending the day at home, holding a powwow to outline campaign strategy for these last few weeks before the primary.

  “Exactly where did you drift off?”

  “Somewhere between El Paso and Sweetwater,” Tate answered. “Look, Eddy, are you sure that sweep through West Texas is essential?”

  “Absolutely essential,” Jack chimed in. “With the price of Texas crude where it is, those folks out there need all the pep talks you can give them.”

  “I’ll tell it like it is. You know how I feel about false hopes and empty promises.”

  “We understand your position completely, Tate,” Nelson said. “But Senator Dekker is partly responsible for the fix the oil business is in. He favored that trade agreement with the Arabs. Those unemployed roughnecks need to be reminded of that.”

  Tate tossed the pencil onto the conference table and stood up. Sliding his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans, he went to stand in front of the window.

  It was a spectacular day. Spring was still a fledgling chick, but redbud trees and daffodils were blooming. Grass in the pastures was gradually turning green.

  “You don’t agree with Nelson’s observation?” Eddy asked.

  “I agree wholeheartedly,” Tate replied, keeping his back to them. “I know I need to be out there citing Dekker’s bad judgment and doling out optimism, but I also need to be here.”

  “With Carole.”

  “Yes. And with Mandy.”

  “I thought Mandy’s shrink said all she needed was time, and that after Carole returned home, Mandy would naturally improve,” Jack said.

  “She did.”

  “So, whether you’re here or not won’t matter a whole hell of a lot to Mandy. There’s not a thing you can do for Carole, either.”

  “I can be with her,” Tate said impatiently. Feeling defensive, he turned to face them.

  “Doing what? Just standing there and staring at those two big, bruised eyes,” Jack said. “Jesus, they give me the creeps.” Tate’s face grew taut with anger over his brother’s insensitive remark.

  “Shut up, Jack,” Nelson snapped.

  Tate said crisply, “Just standing there staring might be all I can do for her, Jack, but it’s still my responsibility to do it. Didn’t I make that clear to you weeks ago?”

  With a long-suffering sigh, Eddy lowered himself into a chair. “I thought we had all agreed that Carole was better off in that private clinic than here at home.”

  “We did.”

  “She’s treated like royalty there—better than she was in the hospital,” Jack observed. “She’s looking better every day. I was just kidding about her eyes. Once the redness goes away and her hair grows back, she’ll look great. So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that she’s still recovering from trauma and serious physical injury,” Tate said testily.

  “No one is arguing that point,” Nelson said. “But you’ve got to seize every opportunity, Tate. You’ve got a responsibility to your campaign that can’t be neglected any more than you can neglect your wife.”

  “Don’t you think I realize that?” he asked the three of them.

  “You realize it,” Eddy said. “And so does Carole.”

  “Maybe. But she doesn’t do as well when I’m away. Dr. Sawyer told me she becomes very depressed.”

  “How the hell does he know whether she’s depressed or laughing her head off? She still can’t say a goddamned—”

  “Jack!” Nelson spoke in the tone he had frequently used during the course of his military career to reduce cocky airmen to groveling penitents. Every inch the retired air force colonel, he glared at his older son.

  He had rarely spanked his children when they were growing up, resorting to corporal punishment only when he felt it was absolutely necessary. Usually a single, quelling look and that harsh tone of voice would whip them back into line. “Have a little consideration for your brother’s predicament, please.”

  Parental respect silenced Jack, but he flopped back in his chair with obvious exasperation.

  “Carole would be the first to tell you to go on this trip,” Nelson said to Tate in a quieter voice. “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it.”

  “I agree with Nelson,” Eddy said.

  “And I agree with both of you. Before the accident, she would have been packing right along with me.” Tate rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out some of the tension and fatigue.

  “Now when I tell her I’m leaving, I see panic in her eyes. It haunts me. She’s still so pathetic. I feel guilty. Before I leave for any extended time, I have to take into account how she’s going to respond to my being away.”

  He took a silent inventory of their reactions. On each of their faces was an argument wanting to be spoken. Out of consideration, they were keeping their opposing opinions to themselves.

  He expelled a deep breath. “Shit. I’m going out for a while.”

  He stamped from the room and left the house. In under five minutes, he was mounted on horseback and galloping across one of the ranch’s pastures, skirting herds of lazily grazing hybrid beef cattle. No particular destination was on his mind; he just needed the privacy and peace that the open air afforded.

  These days, he was rarely by himself, but he had never felt more alone in his entire life. His father, Eddy, and Jack could all advise him on political issues, but personal decisions were just that—personal. Only he could make them.

  He kept thinking about the way Carole had touched him. He wondered what it meant.

  In the two weeks since it had happened, he had reviewed and analyzed it to death and still couldn’t get it off his mind. Because of his stunned reaction to it, it hadn’t lasted more than a split second—just long enough for her fingertips to rake gently through the hair at his temples. But he considered it the most important caress he and Carole had ever shared—more important than their first kiss, than the first time they had made love… than the last time they had made love.

  He reined in and dismounted beside a spring-fed stream that trickled down from the limestone hills. Scrub oak, cedar, and mesquite trees dotted the rocky ground. The wind was strong, out of the north. It stung his cheeks and made his eyes water. He’d left without a jacket, but the sun was warm.

  That touch had surprised the hell out of him because it was such an uncharacteristic thing for her to do. She knew how to touch a man, all right. Even now, after all that had happened between them, memories of their earlier days together could make him hard with desire. Very skillfully, Carole had used touching to communicate when she wanted him. Whether she chose to be teasing, subtle, or downright dirty, she knew how to convey her desires.

  This one had been different. He had felt the difference. It had been a touch of concern and caring and compassion. It had been untutored—spawned by a guileless heart, not a calculating mind. Unselfish, not the reverse.

  Very unlike Carole.

  The sound of a horse approaching brought his head around. Nelson reined in and dismounted with almost as much agility as Tate had minutes before. “Thought I’d ride out, too. Good day for it.” He tilted his head back and gazed at the cloudless, cerulean sky.

  “Bullshit. You came to aid and abet.”

  Nelson chuckled and indicated with a nod that they should sit on one of the bleached white boulders. “Zee spotted you taking off. She suggested it was time to call a break in the meeting. She served sandwiches to the others and sent me after you. Said you looked upset.”

  “I am.”

  “Well, get over it,” Nelson ordered.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “We knew from the beginning that this campaign was going to be a bitch, Tate. What did you expect?”

  “It’s not the campaign. I’m ready
for that,” he said with a determined jut of his cleft chin.

  “Then it’s this business with Carole. You knew that wasn’t going to be a picnic, either.”

  Tate swiveled his head around and asked bluntly, “Have you noticed the changes in her?”

  “The doctor warned you that there would be some slight alterations in her appearance, but they’re hardly noticeable.”

  “Not physical changes. I’m talking about the way she reacts to things.”

  “Can’t say that I have. Like what?”

  Tate cited several instances when Carole’s eyes had registered uncertainty, insecurity, fear.

  Nelson listened to every word, then ruminated for a long time before saying anything. “I’d say her anxiety was natural, wouldn’t you? Her face was torn up to a fare-thee-well. That would make any woman uncertain, but a woman who looked like Carole—well, the thought of losing her beauty would be enough to shake her confidence.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Tate muttered, “but I would expect rage from her before fear. I really can’t explain it. It’s just something I feel.” Absently, he recounted Mandy’s first visit to Carole. “I’ve taken her back three times, and during each visit Carole cries and holds Mandy against her.”

  “She’s thinking how easily she could have lost her.”

  “It’s more than that, Dad. One day while she was still at the hospital, when we stepped off the elevator, she was sitting there in the hall in a wheelchair, waiting for our arrival. It was before her teeth were replaced. Her head was wrapped in a scarf. Her leg was propped up in that cast.” Perplexed, he shook his head. “She looked like hell, but there she was, bold as brass. Now, is that something Carole would do?”

  “She was eager to see you, to show off her ability to get out of bed.”

  Tate considered that for a moment, but it still didn’t gel. When had Carole ever put herself out to please someone else? He could have sworn that despite her inability to smile, she was beaming at the sight of Mandy and him when the elevator doors opened. “So you think it’s all an act?”

  “No,” Nelson said hesitantly. “I just think it’s—”

  “Temporary.”

  “Yes,” he said flatly. “I face facts, Tate. You know that. I don’t mean to butt into your personal life. Zee and I want you and Jack and your families to stay here on the ranch with us. And because we do, we’ve made it a point never to interfere with your private business. If I did what I felt inclined to, I’d see to it that Dorothy Rae got professional help for her problem and I’d blister Fancy’s butt for all the times it should have been blistered and wasn’t.”

  He paused before continuing. “Maybe I should have said something before now, but I was hoping that you would take the initiative to set your marriage straight. I know that you and Carole have sort of grown apart over the last couple of years.” He held up both hands. “You don’t have to tell me why. I don’t need to know. It’s just something that I’ve sensed, you know?

  “Hell, every marriage goes through rough spots now and then. Zee and I hope that you and Carole will iron out your differences, have another baby, go to Washington, and live to grow old together. Maybe this tragedy will patch up the problems you had and bring you closer together.

  “But,” he said, “don’t expect Carole to change entirely as a result of what’s happened to her. If anything, it’ll take more patience to get along with her than it has up till now.”

  Tate edited his father’s speech, picking out the pertinent points and reading between the lines. “You’re telling me that I’m looking for something that isn’t there, is that it?”

  “I’m saying it’s a possibility,” the older man stressed. “Usually when someone has a close brush with death, he goes through a period of smelling the roses. I’ve seen it happen with pilots who ditched their planes and lived to tell about it.

  “You know, they contemplate all that could have been taken from them in the blink of an eye, feel guilty for not appreciating their loved ones, and promise to make amends, improve their general attitude toward life, become a better person—that kind of thing.” He rested his hand on Tate’s knee. “I think that’s what you’re seeing in Carole.

  “I don’t want you to start hoping that this incident has rid her of all her faults and left her a paragon of what a wife should be. Dr. Sawyer guaranteed to remove some of the imperfections in her face, but he never said a word about her soul,” he added with a smile.

  “I guess you’re right,” Tate said tautly. “I know you’re right. That’s exactly what I was doing, looking for improvements that aren’t really there.”

  Nelson used Tate’s shoulder as a prop as he stood up. “Don’t be so hard on yourself or on her. Time and patience are indispensable investments. Anything worth having is worth waiting for, no matter how long it takes—even a lifetime.”

  They mounted and turned the horses toward the house. On the way back, they said very little. As they drew up in front of the stable, Tate leaned on his saddle horn and turned to address his father.

  “About that trip to West Texas.”

  “Yeah?” Nelson threw his right leg over and stepped to the ground.

  “I’ll compromise. One week. I can’t be gone any longer than that.”

  Nelson slapped Tate’s thigh with the reins he was holding, then handed them to Tate. “I figured you’d come around. I’ll tell Eddy and Jack.” He headed for the house.

  “Dad?” Nelson stopped and turned. “Thanks,” Tate said.

  Nelson waved off the gratitude. “Put those horses up properly.”

  Tate walked his horse into the stable, pulling Nelson’s along behind. He dismounted and began the rubdown procedure he’d been taught to do as early as he’d been taught to ride.

  But after several minutes, his hands fell idle on the horse’s rump and he stared into space.

  He had needed her compassion and tenderness that night. He had wanted to trust the motives behind her touch. For the sake of their marriage and Mandy, he had hoped these changes in her would be permanent.

  Only time would tell, but his father was probably right. It was wishful thinking to believe that Carole had changed, when her previous actions had shown her to be faithless and untrustworthy. He couldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt without everybody, chiefly himself, thinking he was a fool for trusting her even that far.

  “Damn.”

  Ten

  “After that, we intend to send him up to the panhandle for a speech at Texas Tech.” As Jack detailed Tate’s itinerary to his sister-in-law, a fresh thought occurred to him. “You know, Tate, there are a lot of cotton farmers in that region. I wonder if Eddy’s considered having you speak to a co-op or something?”

  “If he hasn’t, he should. I definitely want to.”

  “I’ll make a mental note to have him schedule something.”

  From her bed, Avery observed the two brothers. There was enough resemblance to place them in the same family, but enough difference to make them drastically unlike each other.

  Jack appeared more than three years older than Tate. His hair, several shades darker than Tate’s, was thinning on top. He wasn’t exactly paunchy, but his physique wasn’t well honed, as Tate’s was.

  Of the two, Tate was much better looking. Although there was nothing offensive about Jack’s appearance, there wasn’t anything distinguishing about it, either. He faded into the woodwork. Tate couldn’t if he tried.

  “Forgive us for taking him away from you for so long, Carole.” She noticed that Jack never looked directly at her when speaking to her. He would always address some other area of her body besides her face—her chest, her hand, the cast on her leg. “We wouldn’t if we didn’t feel it was important to the campaign.”

  Her fingers closed around the oversized pencil in her hand and she scrawled “okay” on the tablet. Jack tilted his head, read what she’d written, shot her a weak smile, and nodded curtly. There were unpleasant undercurrents betwee
n Jack and his sister-in-law. Avery wondered what they were.

  “Tate said you managed to say some words today,” he said. “That’s great news. We’ll all be glad to hear what you’ve got to say once you can talk again.”

  Avery knew Tate wouldn’t be glad to hear what she had to say. He would want to know why she hadn’t written down her name, why she had let him go on believing that she was his wife, even after she’d regained enough coordination in her hand to use the pencil on the tablet.

  She wanted to know that herself.

  Anxiety over it brought tears to her eyes. Jack immediately stood and began backing toward the door. “Well, it’s getting late, and I’m facing that long drive home. Good luck, Carole. You coming, Tate?”

  “Not quite yet, but I’ll walk you to the lobby.” After telling her that he would be back in a few minutes, he accompanied his brother from the room.

  “I think I upset her by talking about your trip,” Jack remarked.

  “She’s been touchy the last few days.”

  “You’d think she’d be glad she was getting her voice back, wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess it’s frustrating to try and speak plainly when you can’t.” Tate moved to the tinted glass doors of the exclusive clinic and pulled one open.

  “Uh, Tate, have you noticed something weird when she writes?”

  “Weird?”

  He moved aside to admit a pair of nurses into the lobby, followed by a man carrying an arrangement of copper chrysanthemums. Jack stepped outside, but used his hand to prevent the door from closing behind him.

  “Carole’s right-handed, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why is she writing with her left hand?” As soon as Jack posed the puzzling question, he shrugged. “I just thought it was odd.” His hand fell to his side and the hydraulic door began to close. “See you at home, Tate.”

  “Drive carefully.”

  Tate stood staring after his brother until someone else approached the door and looked at him inquiringly. He pivoted on his heels and thoughtfully retraced his steps toward Carole’s room.

  * * *

  While Tate was gone, Avery thought about how he had changed. She had sensed a difference in his attitude more than a week ago. He still paid her regular visits, but they were no longer on a daily basis. At first she had excused this, knowing that his campaign was in full swing.