Mirror Image
As though loath to look at her, he got up and turned his back. At the counter he refilled his coffee cup. “I would have found out eventually, of course.” His voice sounded as cold as ice. When he turned back around to confront her, his eyes looked just as piercingly cold.
“But to be informed by a stranger that my wife was no longer pregnant…” Seething, he glanced away. Again, it was as though he couldn’t bear looking at her. “Can you imagine how I felt, Carole? Jesus! There you were, close to death, and I wanted to kill you myself.” He swung his head back around and, as his eyes bore into hers, he clenched his free hand into a fist.
Out of her cottony memory, Avery conjured up voices.
Tate’s: The child… effects on the fetus?
And someone else’s: Child? Your wife wasn’t pregnant.
The fractured conversation had meant nothing. Its significance had escaped her. It had blended into the myriad confusing conversations she had overheard before she had fully regained consciousness. She had forgotten it until now.
“Didn’t you think I’d notice that you failed to produce a baby? You were so eager to flaunt it in my face that you were pregnant, why didn’t you let me know about your abortion, too?”
Avery shook her head miserably. She had no words to say to him. No excuses. No explanations. But now she knew why Tate hated Carole so.
“When did you do it? It must have been just a few days before your scheduled trip to Dallas. Didn’t want to be hampered by a baby, did you? It would have cramped your style.”
He bore down on her and loudly slapped the surface of the table. “Answer me, damn you. Say something. It’s about time we talked about this, don’t you think?”
Avery stammered, “I… I didn’t think it would matter so much.” His expression turned so ferocious, she thought he might actually strike her. Rushing to her own defense, she lashed out, “I know your policy on abortion, Mr. Rutledge. How many times have I heard you preach that it’s a woman’s right to choose? Does that pertain to every woman in the state of Texas except your wife?”
“Yes, dammit!”
“How hypocritical.”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “The principle that applies to the public at large doesn’t necessarily carry over into my personal life. This abortion wasn’t an issue. It was my baby.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Or was it? Was that another lie to keep me from throwing you out, along with the other trash?”
She tried to imagine how Carole might have responded. “It takes two to make a baby, Tate.”
As she had hoped, she had struck a chord. He released her arm immediately and backed away from her. “I sorely regret that night. I made that clear as soon as it happened. I’d sworn never to touch your whoring body again.
“But you’ve always known which buttons to push, Carole. For days you’d been curling up against me like a cat in heat, mewing your apologies and promises to be a loving wife. If I hadn’t had too much to drink that night, I would have recognized it for the trap it was.”
He gave her a scornful once-ove
r. “Is that what you’re doing now, laying another trap? Is that why you’ve been the model wife since you got out of the hospital?
“Tell me,” he said, propping his hands on his hips, “did you slip up that night and get pregnant by accident? Or was getting pregnant and having an abortion part of your plan to torment me? Is that what you’re trying to do again—make me want you? Prove that you can get me into your bed again, even if it means sacrificing your own daughter’s welfare in order to prove it?”
“No,” Avery declared hoarsely. She couldn’t endure his hatred, even though it wasn’t intended for her.
“You no longer have any power over me, Carole. I don’t even hate you anymore. You’re not worth the energy it requires to hate you. Take all the lovers you want. See if I give a damn.
“The only way you could possibly hurt me now is through Mandy, and I’ll see you in hell first.”
* * *
That afternoon she went horseback riding. She needed the space and open air in which to think. Feeling silly wearing the formal riding clothes, she asked the stable hand to saddle her a mount.
The mare shied away from her. As the aging cowboy gave her a boost up, he said, “Guess she hasn’t forgotten the whipping you gave her last time.” The mare was skittish because she didn’t recognize her rider’s smell, but Avery let the man believe what he wanted.
Carole Rutledge had been a monster—abusive to her husband, her child, everything she had come into contact with, it seemed. The scene over breakfast had left Avery’s nerves raw, but at least she knew what she was up against. The extent of Tate’s contempt for his wife was understandable now. Carole had planned to abort his child—or one she claimed was his—though whether she had done so before the crash would forever remain a mystery.
Avery pieced together the scenario. Carole had been unfaithful and had made no secret of it. Her faithlessness would be intolerable to Tate, but with his political future at risk, he decided to remain married until after the election.
For an unspecified period of time, he hadn’t slept with his wife. He’d even moved out of their bedroom. But Carole had seduced him into making love to her one more time.