Mirror Image

witness. Falsified records,” he said, quoting her previous suggestions. “If you got caught, you had your escape route all thought out, didn’t you? How many other tricks have you got up your sleeve?”
    “I made those suggestions so you’d be protected. You, Tate.”
    “Sure you did.” His lips curled with cynicism. “If you’d wanted to do something for me you wouldn’t have had an abortion. Better yet, you wouldn’t have gotten pregnant in the first place. Or did you think a baby would be your ticket to Washington?”
    He released her suddenly, flinging off his hands as though he couldn’t bear to touch her. “Stay out of my way. I can’t stand the sight of you.”
    He returned to the living room, where his advisers were waiting for him. Avery slumped against the wall and covered her mouth with her hands to hold back the sobs.
    In another attempt to atone for Carole’s sins, she had only driven Tate farther away.
    * * *
    The following morning, Avery woke up feeling groggy. Her head was muzzy, and her eyes were swollen and stinging from crying herself to sleep. Pulling on a light robe, she stumbled toward the bathroom.
    As soon as she cleared the door, she flattened herself against the wall and, with horror, read the message that had been written on the mirror with her own lipstick.
    Stupid slut. You almost ruined everything.
    Fear held her paralyzed for several moments, then galvanized her. She ran to the closet and dressed hastily. Pausing only long enough to wipe the message off the mirror, she fled the room as through chased by demons.
    It took only a few minutes in the stable for her to saddle a horse. She streaked across the open pasture at a full gallop, putting distance between her and the lovely house that harbored such treachery. Even though the sun’s first rays warmed her skin, goose bumps broke out on Avery’s arms when she thought of someone sneaking into her bedroom while she slept.
    Perhaps Irish and Van were right. She was certifiably insane to continue with this charade. She might pay with her life for another woman’s manipulations. Was any story worth that? It was foolish not to leave before she was discovered.
    She could disappear, go someplace else, assume a new identity. She was smart and resourceful. She was interested in many things. Journalism wasn’t the only worthwhile field of endeavor.
    But those were options generated by panic and fear. Avery knew she would never act upon them. She couldn’t withstand another professional failure, especially one of this magnitude. And what if Tate’s life were lost as a consequence? He and Mandy were now worth more to her than any acclaim. She must stay. With the election only several weeks away, the end was in sight.
    As attested to by the message on her mirror, Carole’s recent unpredictability had made Tate’s enemy angry and nervous. Nervous people made mistakes. She would have to be watchful for giveaways, and at the same time guard against giving herself away.
    The stable was still deserted when she returned her mount to his stall. She unsaddled him, gave him a bucket of feed, and rubbed him down.
    “I’ve been looking for you.”
    Alarmed, she dropped the currycomb and spun around. “Tate!” She splayed a hand across her thudding heart. “I didn’t hear you come in. You startled me.”
    He was standing at the opening of the stall. Shep sat obediently at his feet, tongue lolling.
    “Mandy’s demanding your French toast for breakfast. I told her I’d come find you.”
    “I went riding,” she said, stating the obvious.
    “What happened to the fancy britches?”
    “Pardon?”
    “Those…” He gestured along the outside of his thighs.
    “Jodhpurs?” Her jeans and boots weren’t fancy, by any means. The shirttail of her simple cotton shirt was hanging loosely over her hips. “I feel silly in them now.”
    “Oh.” He turned to go.
    “Tate?” When he came back around, she nervously moistened her lips. “I know everyone is furious with me, but your opinion is the only one that matters. Do you hate me?”
    Shep lay down on the cool cement floor of the stable and propped his head on his front paws, looking up at her with woeful eyes.
    “I’d better get back to Mandy,” Tate said. “Coming?”
    “Yes, I’ll be right there.”
    Yet neither made a move to leave the stable. They just stood there, staring at each other. Except for the occasional stamping of a shod hoof against the floor or the snuffling of