Mirror Image

excellent. You’re praising even her smallest achievements and minimizing her failures. She needs that kind of positive reinforcement from you.”
    Tate was frowning. “That doesn’t sound like much.”
    “On the contrary, it’s a lot. You’d be amazed how important parental approval is to a child.”
    “What else should we do?”
    “Ask for her opinion often. ‘Mandy, do you want vanilla or chocolate?’ Force her to make choices and then commend her decisions. She should be made to vocalize her thoughts. My impression is that up till now she’s been discouraged to.”
    He regarded them from beneath rust-colored eyebrows that would have better befitted a cattle rustler with a six-shooter strapped to his hip than a child psychologist with a benign demeanor.
    “Your little girl has a very low opinion of herself.” Avery pressed her fist to her lips and rolled them inward. “Some children manifest low self-esteem with bad behavior, drawing attention to themselves in that way. Mandy has retreated into herself. She considers herself transparent—of little or no significance.”
    Tate’s head dropped between his shoulders. Bleakly, he glanced at Avery. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She was apologizing for Carole, who didn’t deserve his forgiveness.
    “It’s not all your fault. I was there, too. I let lots of things slide when I should have intervened.”
    “Unfortunately,” Dr. Webster said, directing their attention back to him, “the airplane crash only heightened Mandy’s anxiety. How did she behave on the flight here the other day?”
    “She raised quite a ruckus when we tried to buckle her into her seat,” Tate said.
    “I was having a difficult time buckling my own seat belt,” Avery confessed honestly. “If Tate hadn’t talked me through it, I doubt I could have stood the takeoff.”
    “I understand, Mrs. Rutledge,” he said sympathetically. “How was Mandy once you took off?”
    They glanced at each other, then Avery answered. “Come to think of it, she was fine.”
    “That’s what I figured. See, she remembers you fastening her into her seat, Mrs. Rutledge, but doesn’t remember anything beyond the crash. She doesn’t remember you rescuing her.”
    Avery laid a hand against her chest. “You’re saying she blames me for putting her through the crash?”
    “To an extent, I’m afraid so.”
    Shuddering, she covered her mouth with her hand. “My God.”
    “It will be a real breakthrough when she allows her mind to live through that explosion again. Then she’ll remember you rescuing her.”
    “That would be hell for her.”
    “But necessary for a complete cure, Mr. Rutledge. She’s fighting her memory of it. My guess is that her recurring nightmares lead her right up to the moment of impact.”
    “She said the fire was eating her,” Avery said softly, remembering Mandy’s last nightmare. “Is there anything we can do to prod her memory?”
    “Hypnosis is a possibility,” the doctor said. “What I’d rather do, however, is let her memory evolve naturally. Next time she has one of these nightmares, don’t wake her up.”
    “Christ.”
    “I know that sounds cruel, Mr. Rutledge, but she’s got to experience the crash again to get to the other side of it, to reach safety in the arms of her mother. The terror must be exorcised. She won’t overcome her subconscious fear and dread of your wife until then.”
    “I understand,” Tate said, “but it’s going to be tough.”
    “I know.” Dr. Webster stood, signaling that their time was up. “I don’t envy you having to stand by and let her relive that horrifying experience. I’d like to see her back in two months, if that’s convenient.”
    “We’ll make it convenient.”
    “And before that, if you think it’s necessary. Feel free to call anytime.”
    Tate shook hands with Dr. Webster, then assisted Avery from her chair. She wasn’t the mother Mandy had the subconscious fear and dread of, but she might just as well be. Everyone would lay Carole’s blame on her. Even with the support of Tate’s hand beneath her elbow, she could barely find the wherewithal to stand.
    “Good luck with your campaign,” the psychologist told Tate.
    “Thank you.”
    The doctor clasped Avery’s hands, sandwiching them between his. “Don’t make yourself ill with guilt and remorse. I’m convinced that you love your daughter very much.”
    “I do. Did she tell you that she hated