her breasts. "Cady, I won't try to make excuses for
myself..."
Cady
rolled free of him, splashing them both, then stroked to the side of the pool.
"Cady,
wait. Let's talk." His long arms touched the side of the pool at almost
the same time as Cady's.
"There's
nothing to talk about, Rafe." Her voice wobbled. "Bruno only
hammered home the facts I've tried not to admit to myself." She turned to
look at him, locking her jaw to keep her face from crumpling into tears.
"You were on your own for a long time before you met me. You traveled
around the world and you moved with a very slick crowd. I knew that, but I
still foolishly thought that I would be enough for you."
"You were,
Cady." Rafe bit off the words. "You still are."
Her head swung
back and forth like a pendulum. "No, Rafe, don't you fall into that trap,
believing the fairy story of our marriage that you used in your campaign
material."
"Cady,
I have been faithful to you," he growled, sweeping back his wet hair with
one hand.
"Have
you?" She shivered as much from the chill of the air on her wet body as
from the shock of memory. "On the day the plane crashed, you were on your
way to Durra. Bruno and Emmett told me while I waited in the hospital corridor
for the doctor to come and tell me that you had died."
"Did you wish that I had? Died, I mean?"
Bitterness laced Rafe's voice, and his nostrils were pinched white.
"Damn
you!" Cady blazed, raising herself out of the pool, a trembling hand
reaching for the terry-cloth robe. "Is that what you think?" She
whirled to face him, temper igniting her body like a match to spilled gasoline.
"I won't try to change your mind, but kindly remember that I spent many
long hours in office work, in caucus, in meetings, trying to keep your seat...
and... then... then I came to visit you..." Her breath rasped out of her
throat in painful jerks. Hot tears that she had buried for too long seemed to
well up like a boiling geyser. "And ... don't you think... I'm crying.
Because I'm not... and... don't you come near me... ever again." She tried
to whirl away from him, But Rafe caught her wrist.
"Forgive
me, Cady, please. It was a stupid thing to say and I didn't mean it." He
took a deep breath. "Cady, shall I tell you what I remember, what made me
hang on in that living hell?"
She didn't turn to look at him or even nod, but she stopped
trying to struggle free.
"There were
so many special moments, but the one that still comes back in my dreams was the
day you were sitting sprawled in the easy chair. Your eyes were closed and you
were limp with fatigue, yet you described the day you had had fighting for the
Mead-Sligh reclamation bill that would allow people who had been affected by
chemical waste to have recourse to instant financial help. Then you started to
mumble about the other things that you were determined not to let slip, other
bills that I was interested in that you had listed in order of importance to
me." His hand tightened on her wrist. "You still had your eyes
closed, but you were smiling and you said, 'I'll tread softly over your dreams,
Rafe, I promise. Do you remember that quotation by Yeats, darling?' Then you
fell sound asleep."
He tugged gently but insistently on her wrist, turning her
to face him. "I remember the quotation, Cady, because as soon as I could
use my hands, I looked it up in Bartlett's. “ “I have spread my dreams under
your feet; Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.' That's it, isn't it,
Cady?" He was whispering now.
"Yes,
that's it." Cady felt as though each word she said were wrenched from her
throat.
"Cady,
the dreams I had for our state and for the country are still alive in me. If
you can't believe in me as a husband, will you believe in me as a senator and
help those dreams come true? I need you in the coming election."
"I know
that." Cady tried to mask the hurt that his words caused. She wanted to
yell at him, shake him, force him to want her as a woman—not as the senator's
myself..."
Cady
rolled free of him, splashing them both, then stroked to the side of the pool.
"Cady,
wait. Let's talk." His long arms touched the side of the pool at almost
the same time as Cady's.
"There's
nothing to talk about, Rafe." Her voice wobbled. "Bruno only
hammered home the facts I've tried not to admit to myself." She turned to
look at him, locking her jaw to keep her face from crumpling into tears.
"You were on your own for a long time before you met me. You traveled
around the world and you moved with a very slick crowd. I knew that, but I
still foolishly thought that I would be enough for you."
"You were,
Cady." Rafe bit off the words. "You still are."
Her head swung
back and forth like a pendulum. "No, Rafe, don't you fall into that trap,
believing the fairy story of our marriage that you used in your campaign
material."
"Cady,
I have been faithful to you," he growled, sweeping back his wet hair with
one hand.
"Have
you?" She shivered as much from the chill of the air on her wet body as
from the shock of memory. "On the day the plane crashed, you were on your
way to Durra. Bruno and Emmett told me while I waited in the hospital corridor
for the doctor to come and tell me that you had died."
"Did you wish that I had? Died, I mean?"
Bitterness laced Rafe's voice, and his nostrils were pinched white.
"Damn
you!" Cady blazed, raising herself out of the pool, a trembling hand
reaching for the terry-cloth robe. "Is that what you think?" She
whirled to face him, temper igniting her body like a match to spilled gasoline.
"I won't try to change your mind, but kindly remember that I spent many
long hours in office work, in caucus, in meetings, trying to keep your seat...
and... then... then I came to visit you..." Her breath rasped out of her
throat in painful jerks. Hot tears that she had buried for too long seemed to
well up like a boiling geyser. "And ... don't you think... I'm crying.
Because I'm not... and... don't you come near me... ever again." She tried
to whirl away from him, But Rafe caught her wrist.
"Forgive
me, Cady, please. It was a stupid thing to say and I didn't mean it." He
took a deep breath. "Cady, shall I tell you what I remember, what made me
hang on in that living hell?"
She didn't turn to look at him or even nod, but she stopped
trying to struggle free.
"There were
so many special moments, but the one that still comes back in my dreams was the
day you were sitting sprawled in the easy chair. Your eyes were closed and you
were limp with fatigue, yet you described the day you had had fighting for the
Mead-Sligh reclamation bill that would allow people who had been affected by
chemical waste to have recourse to instant financial help. Then you started to
mumble about the other things that you were determined not to let slip, other
bills that I was interested in that you had listed in order of importance to
me." His hand tightened on her wrist. "You still had your eyes
closed, but you were smiling and you said, 'I'll tread softly over your dreams,
Rafe, I promise. Do you remember that quotation by Yeats, darling?' Then you
fell sound asleep."
He tugged gently but insistently on her wrist, turning her
to face him. "I remember the quotation, Cady, because as soon as I could
use my hands, I looked it up in Bartlett's. “ “I have spread my dreams under
your feet; Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.' That's it, isn't it,
Cady?" He was whispering now.
"Yes,
that's it." Cady felt as though each word she said were wrenched from her
throat.
"Cady,
the dreams I had for our state and for the country are still alive in me. If
you can't believe in me as a husband, will you believe in me as a senator and
help those dreams come true? I need you in the coming election."
"I know
that." Cady tried to mask the hurt that his words caused. She wanted to
yell at him, shake him, force him to want her as a woman—not as the senator's
Similar Books
