Mirror Image

by Sandra Brown

  “That’s where the air force sent me, so that’s where I went,” Nelson said. “Desolate place. Zee hated the desert and the dust. She also hated the work I was doing. In those days, test pilots were disposable commodities.”

  “Like your friend Bryan Tate.”

  His features softened, as though he was mentally reliving good times. Then, sadly, he shook his head. “It was like losing one of the family. I gave up test piloting after that. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore, and if your heart’s not in it, you can get killed quicker. Maybe that’s what happened with Bryan. Anyway, I didn’t want to die. There was still too much I wanted to do.

  “The air force sent me to Lackland. This was home, anyway. Good place to raise the boys. My daddy was getting old. I retired from the air force after he died and took over the ranching business.”

  “But you miss the flying, don’t you?”

  “Yeah—hell, yeah,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Old as I am, I still remember what it was like up there. No feeling in the world to rival it. Nothing like swapping beers and stories with the other fliers, either. A woman can’t understand what it’s like to have buddies like that.”

  “Like Bryan?”

  He nodded. “He was a good pilot. The best.” His smile faded. “But he got careless and paid the price with his life.” His vision cleared as he focused on Avery again. “Everybody pays for his mistakes, Carole. You might get away with them for a while, but not forever. Eventually, they’ll catch up with you.”

  She looked away uncomfortably. “Is that what you think is happening with me and the abortion?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  He leaned forward and propped his forearms on his things. “You’ve already had to pay by bearing the shame of it. I’m just hoping that Tate doesn’t have to pay for your mistake by losing this election.”

  “So do I.”

  He studied her for a moment. “You know, Carole, I’ve jumped to your defense many times since you became part of this family. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt on more occasions than one.”

  “Your point?”

  “Everyone’s noticed the changes in you since you came back after your accident.”

  Avery’s heartbeat quickened. Had they been discussing these changes among themselves? “I have changed. For the better, I think.”

  “I agree, but Zee doesn’t think the changes are real. She believes you’re putting on an act—that your interest in Mandy is phony and your sudden regard for Tate is merely a tactic to stay in his good graces so he’ll take you with him to Washington.”

  “Not a very flattering commendation from a mother-in-law,” she mused aloud. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re a beautiful, smart young woman—too smart to lock horns with me.” He pointed a blunt finger at her. “You better be everything you’ve pretended to be.” For several moments, his expression remained foreboding. Then he broke into a wide grin. “But if you’re sincerely trying to make up for past mistakes, I commend you for it. To get elected, Tate needs his family, especially his wife, behind him one hundred percent.”

  “I am behind his getting elected one hundred percent.”

  “That’s no more than should be expected.” He rose from his chair. At the door he turned back. “Behave like a senator’s wife and you’ll get no trouble from me.”

  Apparently he spoke to Zee, because at dinner that evening, Avery noticed a slight thawing in Zee’s attitude toward her. Her interest seemed genuine when she asked, “Did you enjoy your ride this afternoon, Carole?”

  “Very much. Now that it’s cooler, I can stay out longer.”

  “And you’re riding Ghostly. That’s odd, isn’t it? You’ve always despised that animal, and vice versa.”

  “I think I was afraid of him before. We’ve learned to trust each other.”

  Mona stepped into the dining room at that moment to call Nelson to the phone. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Tate, Colonel Rutledge.”

  Avery squelched a pang of regret that Tate hadn’t asked to speak to her, but just knowing that he was on the telephone in the next room made her insides flutter. Nelson was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he looked extremely pleased.

  “Ladies,” he said, addressing not only his wife and Avery, but Dorothy Rae, Fancy, and Mandy, too. “Get your bags packed tonight. We’re leaving for Fort Worth tomorrow.”

  Their reactions were varied.

  Zee said, “All of us?”

  Dorothy Rae said, “Not me. Me?”

  Fancy leaped from her chair, giving a wild whoop of irrepressible joy. “God, it’s about time something good and fun happened around here.”

  Mandy looked at Avery for a clarification of why everybody had suddenly become so excited.

  Avery asked, “Tomorrow? Why?”

  Nelson addressed her question first. “The polls. Tate’s slipping, losing ground every day.”

  “That’s not much cause to celebrate,” Zee said.

  “Tate’s advisers think the family should be more visible,” Nelson explained, “so he doesn’t look like such a maverick. I, for one, am glad we’re all going to be together again.”

  “They’ve changed their minds about me staying in the background?” Avery asked.

  “Obviously.”

  “I’ll pack for Mandy and me.” All negative thoughts were dispelled by the knowledge that she would soon be with Tate. “What time are we leaving?”

  “Soon as everybody’s ready.” Nelson glanced down at Dorothy Rae, who was obviously panic-stricken. Her face was the color of cold oatmeal and she was wringing her hands. “Mona, please help Dorothy Rae get her things together.”

  “Do I have to go?” she asked in a quavering voice.

  “That’s what I was told.” Nelson divided a stern stare between her and Fancy, who, unlike her mother, was ebullient. “I don’t think I need to remind anyone to be on her best behavior. We’re moving into the final days of the campaign. All the Rutledges are going to be under public scrutiny, constantly living under a magnifying glass. Conduct yourselves accordingly.”

  Thirty-Seven

  It was raining in Fort Worth when they arrived.

  Nelson drove straight to the downtown hotel, but because the trip from the hill country had taken longer than expected due to the inclement weather and frequent stops, Jack, Eddy, and Tate had already left for the political rally being held that evening.

  The travel-weary group checked into their rooms as quickly as possible. Mandy was tired and cranky. She threw a temper tantrum and nothing pacified her—not even the room service meal that was promptly delivered.

  “Mandy, eat your dinner,” Zee said.

  “No,” she said petulantly, poking out her lower lip. “You said I could see Daddy. I want to see Daddy.”

  “He’ll be here later,” Avery explained for the umpteenth time.

  “Come on now, this is your favorite,” Zee said cajolingly. “Pizza.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Nelson impatiently glanced at his military wristwatch. “It’s almost seven. We’ve got to leave now or get there late.”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Dorothy Rae volunteered, her expression hopeful.

  “Big help you’d be,” Fancy said scornfully. “I say let the little wretch starve.”

  “Fancy, please,” Zee remonstrated. “One difficult child at a time is enough.” She pleaded fatigue herself and offered to skip the rally and stay with Mandy.

  “Thank you, Zee,” Avery said. “That would be a help. I don’t think she’s fit to meet the public tonight. Nelson, you take Dorothy Rae and Fancy now. I’ll come along later.”

  Nelson began to protest. “Dirk and Ralph said to—”

  “I don’t care what they said,” Avery said, butting in. “Tate wouldn’t want me to leave Mandy with Zee while she’s behaving this badly. Once she’s in bed, I’ll take a cab. Tell them I�
��ll get there as soon as I can.”

  The three of them filed out of Mandy’s bedroom, part of a three-room suite assigned to Tate’s family. “Now, Mandy,” Avery said reasonably, “eat your supper so I can brag to Daddy how good you’ve been.”

  “I want my surprise.”

  “Eat your dinner, dear,” Zee pleaded.

  “No!”

  “Then would you like a nice, warm bath?”

  “No! I want my surprise. Daddy said I’d get a surprise.”

  “Mandy, stop this,” Avery said sternly, “and eat your dinner.”

  Mandy gave the room service tray a push. It went crashing to the floor. Avery shot to her feet. “That settles it.” She yanked Mandy out of her chair, spun her around and swatted her bottom hard several times. “I won’t put up with that from you, young lady.”

  At first Mandy was too stunned to react. She looked up at Avery with wide, round eyes. Then her lower lip began to quiver. Enormous tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her mouth and let out a wail that would awake the dead.

  Zee reached for her, but Avery edged her aside and gathered Mandy against her. The child’s arms wrapped around her neck. She burrowed her wet face into Avery’s shoulder.

  Avery rubbed her back soothingly. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for having to get a spanking? Daddy thinks you’re a good girl.”

  “I am a good girl.”

  “Not tonight. You’re being very naughty and you know it.”

  The crying jag lasted for several minutes. When it finally abated, Mandy raised her blotchy face. “Can I have my ice cream now?”

  “No, you can’t.” Avery pushed back strands of Mandy’s hair that tears had plastered to her cheeks. “I don’t believe you deserve a treat, do you?” Her lower lip continued to tremble, but she shook her head no. “If you behave now, when Daddy gets here tonight, I’ll let him wake you up to give you your surprise. Okay?”

  “I want some ice cream.”

  “I’m sorry,” Avery said shaking her head no. “Bad behavior doesn’t get rewarded. Understand Mommy?”

  Mandy nodded regretfully. Avery eased her off her lap. “Now, let’s go take a bath and put your pajamas on so you and Grandma can go to bed. The faster you go to sleep, the sooner Daddy will get here.”

  Twenty minutes later, Avery tucked her in. Mandy was so tired, she was almost asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. Avery was also exhausted. The incident had sapped her stamina. She was in no frame of mind to quarrel with Zee, whose compact body was quaking with disapproval.

  “Tate will hear about the spanking,” she said.

  “Good. I believe he should.”

  She was on her way into the connecting room when the telephone rang. It was Tate. “Are you coming, or what?” he demanded without preamble.

  “Yes, I’m coming. I had a problem with Mandy, but she’s in bed now. I’ll get a cab and be there—”

  “I’m downstairs in the lobby. Be quick.”

  She did the best she could in five minutes’ time, which was all she dared allow herself. The results weren’t spectacular, but good enough to make Tate do a double take as she stepped off the elevator.

  The two-piece suit was smart and sassy. The sapphire blue silk enhanced her own vibrant coloring. The curl in her hair had been sacrificed to the humidity, so she’d opted for a sophisticated, dramatic effect and capped it off with a pair of bold, gold earrings.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Tate asked as he ushered her toward the revolving door. “Dad said Mandy was upset.”

  “Upset, my foot. Mandy was being an absolute terror.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s three years old, that’s why. She’d been cooped up in a car all day. I understood why she was behaving the way she was, but understanding only stretches so far. I hate to spoil Zee’s surprise, but I spanked her.”

  They had reached the car parked beneath the porte cochere. He paused with his hand on the passenger door handle. “What happened?”

  “It got her attention. It also worked.”

  He studied her resolute expression for a moment, then bobbed his head and brusquely ordered, “Get in.”

  He quickly tipped the doorman who’d been keeping an eye on the car, got behind the wheel, and drove cautiously out into the street. The windshield wipers clacked vigorously, but fought a losing battle against the heavy rainfall.

  Tate headed north on Main Street, rounded the distinctive Tarrant County Courthouse, then drove across the Trinity River Bridge toward north Fort Worth, where cowboys and cutthroats had made history in its celebrated stockyards.

  “Why did you come to get me?” she asked as the car streaked through the stormy night. “I could have taken a cab.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything except hanging around backstage anyway. I thought the time would be better spent doing taxi duty.”

  “What did Dirk and Ralph say about you leaving?”

  “Nothing. They didn’t know.”

  “What!”

  “By the time they figure out I’m not there, it’ll be too late for them to do anything about it. Anyway, I was goddamn tired of them editing my speech.”

  He was driving imprudently fast, but she didn’t call that to his attention. He seemed in no mood to listen to criticism. His disposition seemed black all around. “Why were we summoned to join you?” she asked, hoping to find the root of his querulousness.

  “Have you been following the polls?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know that a change of strategy is called for. According to my advisers, desperation measures must be taken. We embarked on this trip to pump up enthusiasm, gain support. Instead, I’ve lost three points since we started.”

  “Nelson said something about your maverick image.”

  He swore beneath his breath. “That’s how they think I’m coming across.”

  “They?”

  “Who else? Dirk and Ralph. They thought the bulwark of a family standing behind me would convince voters that I’m not a hothead. A family man projects a more stable image. Shit, I don’t know. They go on and on till I don’t even hear them anymore.”

  He wheeled into the parking lot of Billy Bob’s Texas. Touted as the world’s largest honky-tonk, complete with an indoor rodeo arena, it had been leased by Tate’s election committee for the night. Several country and western performers had donated their time and talent to the fundraising rally.

  Tate nosed the car up to the front door. A cowboy wearing a yellow slicker and dripping felt Stetson stepped from the alcove and approached the car. Tate lowered the foggy window.

  “Can’t park here, mister.”

  “I’m—”

  “You gotta move your car. You’re in a fire lane.”

  “But I’m—”

  “There’s a parking lot across the street, but because of the crowd, it might already be full.” He shifted his wad of tobacco from one jaw to the other. “Anyhow, you can’t leave it here.”

  “I’m Tate Rutledge.”

  “Buck Burdine. Pleased to meet ya. But you still can’t park here.”

  Buck obviously had no interest in politics. Tate glanced at Avery. Diplomatically, she was studying her hands where they lay folded in her lap and biting her lip to keep from laughing.

  Tate tried again. “I’m running for senator.”

  “Look, mister, are you gonna move your car, or am I gonna have to kick ass?”

  “I guess I’m gonna move my car.”

  A few minutes later, he parked in an alley several blocks away, between a boot repair shop and a tortilla factory. As soon as he cut the engine, he looked across the interior of the car at Avery. She glanced at him sideways. Simultaneously, they burst out laughing. It lasted for several minutes.

  “Aw, Jesus,” he said, squeezing the bridge of his nose, “I’m tired. It feels good to laugh. Guess I have Buck Burdine to thank.”

  Rain was coming down in torrents and sheeting against the windows of the ca
r. The streets were virtually deserted on this rainy weeknight. The businesses that sandwiched them were closed, but their neon signs projected wavering stripes of pink and blue into the car.

  “Has it been horrible, Tate?”

  “Yeah. Horrible.” Mindlessly, he traced the stitching around the padded leather steering wheel. “I’m losing ground every day, not gaining it. My campaign’s on the wane here in the final weeks, when it should be picking up momentum by the hour. It looks like Dekker is going to pull it off again.” He thumped the steering wheel with his fist.

  Avery shut out everything except him. She gave him her undivided attention, knowing that he needed a sounding board that didn’t talk back. He hadn’t had to tell her that he was tired. Lines of weariness and worry were etched at the sides of his mouth and around his eyes.

  “I’ve never once doubted that it was my destiny to serve this state in the U.S. Senate.” He turned his head and looked at her. She nodded in agreement but said nothing, uncertain how she should respond. He wouldn’t tolerate banalities and platitudes.

  “I even skipped running for state representative and went after what I ultimately wanted. But now, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been listening to people who only told me what I wanted to hear. Have I got delusions of grandeur?”

  “Undoubtedly.” She smiled when he registered surprise over her candor. “But name one politician who doesn’t. It takes someone with enormous self-confidence to assume the responsibility for thousands of people’s lives, Tate.”

  “We’re all egomaniacs, then?”

  “You have a healthy self-esteem. That’s nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for. The ability to lead is a gift, like being musically inclined or having a genius for numbers.”

  “But no one accuses a mathematical wizard of exploitation.”

  “Your integrity wouldn’t allow you to exploit anyone, Tate. The ideals you espouse aren’t just campaign slogans. You believe in them. You’re not another Rory Dekker. He’s all wind. He’s got no substance. In time, the voters are going to realize that.”

  “You still think I’m going to win?”

  “Absolutely.”