Mirror Image

Rae pulled herself up straight and assumed the air of superiority that only drunks can assume. “Other changes,” she said loftily. “Haven’t you noticed them?”
    “Maybe. Like what?”
    “Like the attention she’s showering on Mandy and the way she’s sucking up to Tate.”
    “She’s been through a lot. She’s mellowed.”
    “Ha!” she crowed indelicately. “Her? Mellowed? God above, you’re blind where she’s concerned.” Her blue eyes tried to focus on his face. “Since that plane crash, she’s like a different person, and you know it. But it’s all for show,” she stated knowingly.
    “Why should she bother?”
    “Because she wants something.” She swayed toward him and tapped his chest for emphasis. “Probably, she’s playing the good little senator’s wife so she’ll get to move to Washington with Tate. What’ll you do then, Jack? Huh? What’ll you do with your sinful lust then?”
    “Maybe I’ll start drinking and keep you company.”
    She raised a shaky hand and pointed her finger at him. “Don’t get off the subject. You want Carole. I know you do,” she finished with another sob.
    Jack, once more bored with her inebriated rambling, finished hanging up his clothes, then methodically went around the room, switching off lamps and turning down the bed. “Come to bed, Dorothy Rae,” he said wearily.
    She caught his arm. “You never loved me.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “You think I tricked you into marrying me.”
    “I never said that.”
    “I thought I was pregnant. I did!”
    “I know you did.”
    “Because you didn’t love me, you thought it was okay to go after other women.” Her eyes narrowed on him accusingly. “I know there have been others. You’ve cheated on me so many times, it’s no wonder I drink.”
    Tears were streaming down her face. Ineffectually, she slapped his bare shoulder. “I drink because my husband doesn’t love me. Never did. And now he’s in love with his brother’s wife.”
    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