Mirror Image by Sandra Brown

others and sent me after you. Said you looked upset.”
    “I am.”
    “Well, get over it,” Nelson ordered.
    “It’s not that easy.”
    “We knew from the beginning that this campaign was going to be a bitch, Tate. What did you expect?”
    “It’s not the campaign. I’m ready for that,” he said with a determined jut of his cleft chin.
    “Then it’s this business with Carole. You knew that wasn’t going to be a picnic, either.”
    Tate swiveled his head around and asked bluntly, “Have you noticed the changes in her?”
    “The doctor warned you that there would be some slight alterations in her appearance, but they’re hardly noticeable.”
    “Not physical changes. I’m talking about the way she reacts to things.”
    “Can’t say that I have. Like what?”
    Tate cited several instances when Carole’s eyes had registered uncertainty, insecurity, fear.
    Nelson listened to every word, then ruminated for a long time before saying anything. “I’d say her anxiety was natural, wouldn’t you? Her face was torn up to a fare-thee-well. That would make any woman uncertain, but a woman who looked like Carole—well, the thought of losing her beauty would be enough to shake her confidence.”
    “I suppose you’re right,” Tate muttered, “but I would expect rage from her before fear. I really can’t explain it. It’s just something I feel.” Absently, he recounted Mandy’s first visit to Carole. “I’ve taken her back three times, and during each visit Carole cries and holds Mandy against her.”
    “She’s thinking how easily she could have lost her.”
    “It’s more than that, Dad. One day while she was still at the hospital, when we stepped off the elevator, she was sitting there in the hall in a wheelchair, waiting for our arrival. It was before her teeth were replaced. Her head was wrapped in a scarf. Her leg was propped up in that cast.” Perplexed, he shook his head. “She looked like hell, but there she was, bold as brass. Now, is that something Carole would do?”
    “She was eager to see you, to show off her ability to get out of bed.”
    Tate considered that for a moment, but it still didn’t gel. When had Carole ever put herself out to please someone else? He could have sworn that despite her inability to smile, she was beaming at the sight of Mandy and him when the elevator doors opened. “So you think it’s all an act?”
    “No,” Nelson said hesitantly. “I just think it’s—”
    “Temporary.”
    “Yes,” he said flatly. “I face facts, Tate. You know that. I don’t mean to butt into your personal life. Zee and I want you and Jack and your families to stay here on the ranch with us. And because we do, we’ve made it a point never to interfere with your private business. If I did what I felt inclined to, I’d see to it that Dorothy Rae got professional help for her problem and I’d blister Fancy’s butt for all the times it should have been blistered and wasn’t.”
    He paused before continuing. “Maybe I should have said something before now, but I was hoping that you would take the initiative to set your marriage straight. I know that you and Carole have sort of grown apart over the last couple of years.” He held up both hands. “You don’t have to tell me why. I don’t need to know. It’s just something that I’ve sensed, you know?
    “Hell, every marriage goes through rough spots now and then. Zee and I hope that you and Carole will iron out your differences, have another baby, go to Washington, and live to grow old together. Maybe this tragedy will patch up the problems you had and bring you closer together.
    “But,” he said, “don’t expect Carole to change entirely as a result of what’s happened to her. If anything, it’ll take more patience to get along with her than it has up till now.”
    Tate edited his father’s speech, picking out the pertinent points and reading between the lines. “You’re telling me that I’m looking for something