Mirror Image

Jack crawled into bed, turned onto his side, and pulled the covers up over himself. His nonchalance enraged her. On her knees, she walked to the center of the bed and began pounding on his back with her fists. “Tell me the truth. Tell me how much you love her. Tell me how much you despise me.”

Her anger and strength were rapidly exhausted, as he had known they would be. She collapsed beside him, losing consciousness instantly. Jack rolled to his side and adjusted the

covers over her. Then, heaving an unhappy sigh, he lay back down and tried to sleep.

Sixteen

“I thought she would be in bed by now.”

Tate spoke from the doorway of Mandy’s bathroom. Avery was kneeling beside the tub, where Mandy was worming her fingers through a mound of bubbles.

“She probably should be, but we went a little overboard with the bubble bath.”

“So I see.”

Tate came in and sat down on the lid of the commode. Mandy smiled up at him.

“Do your trick for Daddy,” Avery told her.

Obediently, the child cupped a handful of suds and blew on them hard, sending clumps of white foam flying in all directions. Several landed on Tate’s knee. He made a big deal of it. “Whoa, there, Mandy, girl! You’re taking the bath, not me.”

She giggled and scooped up another handful. This time a dollop of suds landed on Avery’s nose. To Mandy’s delight, she sneezed. “I’d better put a stop to this before it gets out of hand.” She bent over the tub, slid her hands into Mandy’s armpits, and lifted her out.

“Here, give her to me.” Tate was waiting to wrap up his daughter in a towel.

“Careful. Slippery when wet.”

Mandy, bundled in soft pink terry cloth, was carried into her adjoining bedroom and set down beside her bed. Her chubby little feet sank into the thick rug. Its luxuriant nap swallowed all ten toes. Tate sat down on the edge of her bed and began drying her with experienced hands.

“Nightie?” he asked, looking up at Avery expectantly.

“Oh, yes. Coming right up.” There was a tall, six-drawer chest and a wide, three-drawer bureau. Where would the nighties be kept? She moved toward the bureau and opened the top drawer. Socks and panties.

“Carole? Second drawer.”

Avery responded with aplomb. “She’ll need underwear, too, won’t she?” He unwound the towel from around Mandy and helped her step into her underwear, then pulled the nightgown over her head while Avery turned down her bed. He lifted Mandy into it.

Avery brought a hairbrush from the bureau, sat down beside Tate on the edge of the bed, and began brushing Mandy’s hair. “You smell so clean,” she whispered, bending down to kiss her rosy cheek once she’d finished with her hair. “Want some powder on?”

“Like yours?” Mandy asked.

“Hmm, like mine.” Avery went back to the bureau for the small music box of dusting powder she’d spotted there earlier. Returning to the bed, she opened the lid. A Tchaikovsky tune began to play. She dipped the plush puff into the powder, then applied it to Mandy’s chest, tummy, and arms. Mandy tilted her head back. Avery stroked her exposed throat with the powder puff. Giggling, Mandy hunched her shoulders and dug her fists into her lap.

“That tickles, Mommy.”

The form of address startled Avery and brought tears to her eyes. She pulled the child into a tight hug. It was a moment before she could speak. “Now you really smell good, doesn’t she, Daddy?”

“She sure does. ’Night, Mandy.” He kissed her, eased her back onto the pillows, and tucked the summer-weight covers around her.

“Good night.” Avery leaned down to softly peck her cheek, but Mandy flung her arms around Avery’s neck and gave her mouth a smacking, moist kiss. She then turned onto her side, pulled a well-loved Pooh Bear against her, and closed her eyes.

Somewhat dazed by Mandy’s spontaneous show of affection, Avery replaced the music box, turned out the light, and preceded Tate through the doorway and down the hall toward her own room.

“For our first day??”

She got no further before he grabbed her upper arm and shoved her inside her bedroom and against the nearest wall. Keeping one hand firmly around her biceps, he closed the door so they wouldn’t be overheard and flattened his other palm against the wall near her head.

“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded.