Mirror Image

“Your mother.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. You need her, Fancy. More than that,” Avery said, pressing Fancy’s knee for emphasis, “she needs you. She’s been trying very hard to make up for past mistakes. Why not give her a chance?”

Fancy thought it over for a moment, then nodded sullenly. “Sure, why not, if it’ll make the old girl feel significant.”

Avery dialed the room. Jack answered sleepily. “Is Dorothy Rae already in bed? Could she come to Fancy’s room?”

“What’s wrong?”

Avery looked at Fancy’s lip and lied, “Nothing. Just a hen party.”

In under a minute Dorothy Rae knocked. She was in her nightgown. “What is it, Carole?”

“Come in.”

The minute she saw Fancy’s face, she stopped dead in her tracks and raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, my baby! What happened to you?”

Fancy’s lower lip quivered. A fresh batch of tears filled her eyes. She stretched out her arms and, in a weak, tremulous voice said, “Mommy?”

* * *

“I left them crying in each other’s arms,” Avery told Tate a few minutes later. “This might have been the best thing that could have happened.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eddy so irrational.” While she’d been gone, he’d stripped down to his trousers. Bare-chested, he was pacing the room, still spoiling for a fight.

“He’s determined to get you elected. When something happens that could jeopardize that, his temper is explosive.”

“But to strike a woman?” Tate asked incredulously, shaking his head.

“How long have you known that he was sleeping with Fancy?”

“A few weeks.”

“He told you?”

“No, I picked up signals.”

“Did you say anything to him about it?”

“What could I say? He’s a grown-up. So is she. God knows he didn’t coerce her or sweet talk his way past her virginity.”

“I guess not,” Avery sighed. “But for all her sexual experience, Fancy’s extremely vulnerable, Tate. He’s hurt her.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not defending—”

“Listen!”

Avery held up her hand and signaled for quiet. Then, moving simultaneously, they rushed toward Mandy’s bedroom and burst through the door.

She was flailing her limbs, thrashing them against the bed covers. Her small face was contorted and bathed with sweat. She was weeping copiously, her lips blubbering.

“Mommy! Mommy!” She screamed the name repeatedly.

Instinctively, Avery reached for her. Tate placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “You can’t. This might be it.”

“Oh, no, Tate, please.”