Mirror Image

“I saw you on television nearly every night. The crowds seemed enthusiastic.”

“Everybody was pleased with the response I got.”

“All the political analysts are predicting that you’ll win the primary by a landslide.”

“I hope so.”

They lapsed into another silence while each tried, without much success, to keep from staring at the other.

“How is Mandy?”

He gave a dismissive shrug. “She’s fine.”

Avery frowned doubtfully.

“Okay, not so fine.” He stood again and began pacing the length of the bed, his boot heels making crescent impressions in the carpeting. “Mom says she’s still having nightmares. She wakes up screaming nearly every night, sometimes even during her nap. She moves around the house like a little ghost.” He extended his hands as though reaching for something, then closed them around nothingness. “Not quite there, you know? Nobody’s getting through—not me, not the psychologist.”

“I asked Zee to bring her to see me. She said you had told her not to.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think it would be a good idea for her to come when I wasn’t here.”

She didn’t press her luck by asking why. It might spark another argument she wasn’t yet equipped to handle. “I miss her. Once I’m at home, she’ll do better.”

His skepticism was plain. “Maybe.”

“Does she ever ask for me?”

“No.”

Avery lowered her gaze to her lap. “I see.”

“Well, what do you expect, Carole? You only get back what you give.”

For a moment their eyes clashed, then her hand came up to her forehead. Tears filled her eyes. She cried for the child who hadn’t had enough of her mother’s love. Poor little Mandy. Avery knew how it felt to be deprived of a parent’s attention. That’s why she justified pretending to be Mandy’s mother when, initially, she had felt Mandy would profit from being told of Carole’s demise immediately.

“Aw, shit,” Tate said beneath his breath. He crossed the room and lightly rested his hand on the top of her head. His fingers worked their way through her stubby hair until the pads were gently massaging her scalp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Mandy’s going to get better—much better.” After a moment, he said, “Maybe I should go.”

“No!” Her head snapped up. Tears still drenched her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“It’s time I did.”

“Please stay a while longer.”

“I’m tired and cranky from the trip—not good company.”

“I don’t mind.”

He shook his head.

Valiantly, she masked her immense disappointment. “I’ll see you out then.”

She reached for her cane and placed her weight on it as she stood up. But her nervously perspiring hand slipped on the crook and caused her to lose her balance.

“Christ, be careful.”