Tread Softly (12 page)

"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 wife.

"Will you
help me, Cady?"

"I'll help
you to achieve your aims, because I believe in them, too, but I won't..."

Rafe
put his finger to her lips. "Don't say any more. We'll just go with what
we've got." His lips curved in a twist of a smile. "We'll give them a
hell of a run for their money in this election, won't we, Cady?"

 
CHAPTER FIVE

The
campaign swung into high gear almost at the moment of their return to New
York. Cady was rather startled to find that she was well known to so many of
Rafe's constituents. Many even called her by name. Even more astonishing to her
was that she enjoyed accompanying Rafe and talking to the people. She had never
considered herself an extrovert, but her months of working in Rafe's Senate
office had whittled down the rough edges of her shyness. She tried to explain
this metamorphosis to her father one evening when Rafe was dining with some of
his political strategists in the area. She had taken advantage of the brief
respite to visit with the professor.

"It's
incredible, Father, really!" She smiled at him, taking note of the
piercing stare that seemed to see through her. "All those years at school
when I would tremble and shake over giving reports and taking oral exams, and
now I'm meeting hundreds of people at once and carrying it off. Amazing, isn't
it?"

"Amazing," Professor Nesbitt echoed, his tone
dry. He tapped his pipe against his left palm, not taking his eyes from her.
"We've skirted any discussion of you all evening, my darling
daughter," he observed, filling the pipe with slow, measured movements.
"And though I'm fully in accord with my son-in-law's aims—in fact I'm most
curious about his new wariness toward the Greeley people he had in his camp—for
the moment I would like to hear about you. You have shadows under your eyes,
Cady. What's wrong?"

"Nothing,
Father," she choked, trying to keep her smile in place. "The campaign
is tiring, of course, and I don't look as sharp as I should..."

"It's not
your looks, even though you are too thin. That happened after Rafe's accident,
and I can understand it. It was a very rough time for both of you; but that
crisis is past. What's bothering you now, Cady? I see the hurt etched into your
face and I don't like that. Do you want to talk about it?" Her father's
voice was gentle, as always, but Cady detected a thread of steel in it. "I
knew there would be pain for you," he went on, "marrying a man like
Rafe, but you loved him so much." He shrugged, a bitter lift to his mouth.

"I
still do," Cady choked, wanting to talk with her father but unable to
confide to anyone that Rafe didn't love her and would, perhaps soon, be asking
her for a divorce. "I'm not trying to fool you, Father. It's only that
speaking about the problems between Rafe and me makes me so miserable."

"Then
you admit there are problems." Her father's voice was gruff.

"There are
problems in every marriage. You know that." Cady's mouth felt like rubber
as she tried to smile.

"All
right, child; but promise me you'll come to me if things get too rough."

   
"I promise, Father."

"Now
tell me about this Greeley thing. Where did all the bully boys go who used to
be on the fringe of Rafe's camp?" Professor Nesbitt's eyes sharpened when
her lips curved upward.

"Rafe was a
tiger with them. Bruno Trabold made the tactical mistake of trying to back Rafe
into a corner on an issue." Cady kept her eyes on her father's chin, determined
not to give him any details about the Durra scandal, even though she sensed
that he knew more about Rafe than he let on. "Bruno underestimated Rafe's
fighting ability and overplayed his hand. When he revealed that Greeley had
been trying to manipulate Rafe, Rafe came out of his corner like a pit
terrier," she finished, her lips a straight line.

"Speaking
of pit terriers," her father said, tamping his pipe, "I understand
from the newspapers that my daughter has entered the fray on the side of the
Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals to protect that great species of
canine from being exploited in illegal fighting."

Cady
leaned forward in her chair, two coin-size spots of red high in her cheeks.
"Dad, if you could see what happens to these dogs when they're thrown into
one of those fights, it would make you sick. They are literally torn to
pieces." Her chin thrust forward. "And just as Rafe rid himself of
the Greeley faction, I'm going to help sweep that disgusting so-called sport
from our state."

Professor
Nesbitt's stern face softened, his eyes twinkling. "I would certainly run
if you came at me with that martial light in your eye. You're quite a tiger
yourself, Cady."

At that moment
Rafe strolled into the room, his charcoal pin-strip suit looking as fresh as
when he left that morning. Both Cady and her father started—they had been so
absorbed in their conversation that they hadn't heard the click of Rafe's key
in the front door lock.

"No truer
words were ever spoken, Thomas." Rafe chuckled, pulling his tie free from
his neck as he stood in the doorway. "You haven't seen your daughter in
action in the political arena yet. Why don't you come to the luncheon the
Monroe County women are hosting for Cady? She's making a speech that day. The
first time I heard her speak, I didn't even listen to the words. I was too busy
watching the way she curled the audience right into her palm. She's a marvel."
Her husband's voice brimmed with pride.

Cady had heard
Rafe praise her often during the campaign, but it never failed to stir her, to
make the blood rise in her face as it did now. "Rafe, you've already invited
the world to this rally. I hope I won't fall on my face."

"That's
false modesty and you know it, wife. Even Clem Martin, my campaign manager,
said that you are my greatest asset." He walked across the room to lean
down and brush her lips with his. This had become a habit of Rafe's whenever
they greeted each other or parted. Cady knew that it was a mechanical gesture
to him, but for her it was a heart-wrenching experience, and she treasured
every caress. Still, it became increasingly hard to disguise the effect he had
on her, especially since her hands ached to reach for his neck and clutch him
to her.

"I
think I will come." Professor Nesbitt pursed his lips, a faraway look in
his eyes. "Yes, I could drive up in the morning."

"No, Thomas,
I'll send the plane for you," Rafe corrected. "It's a beautiful ride
up the lake. Then you could stay with us in the city and fly back the next
morning."

"Oh,
please do it, Father. I'd like it so much." Cady felt her throat
constrict. "It would bolster my confidence."

"I
thought I was supposed to do that," Rafe observed, his tone wry.

Cady
gave him a quick glance, noting the opaque look of his eyes. "Of course
you do. But I'd like my father to be there, too."

"Of
course." He looked past her to the professor. "We should be leaving,
Thomas. It's a fifteen-mile drive to the house and then it's early to rise
tomorrow."

"Then why
not stay here for the night? It might make it easier for you if I flew into the
city with you in the morning instead of sending the plane for me."
Professor Nesbitt was studying the bowl of his now-extinguished pipe as though
such a scrutiny were crucial.

"Father,
no!" Cady exclaimed in horror, trying to catch the professor's eye.
"My clothes! I have to.. .to get my things... and..."

"Nonsense,
child, you have clothes here and more in the city if you need them, and you
have your briefcase with your speech with you." He looked over his
half-glasses, his lips firm. "You should set an example for energy
conservation and not take two plane trips when you can take one."

Rafe
gave a dry laugh. "Your father's right, Cady. We'll stay the night."
His dark brows arched even further at the glowering look she gave him.
"I'm for a shower and bed." He turned away, striding from the sitting
room. The muffled thumps as he climbed the stairs were loud in the stillness.

"Father,
I..." Cady cleared her throat.

"Cady,
I wouldn't dream of interfering in your life, but I will tell you this. If you
want to keep your husband and your marriage, then make up your mind to fight
for them. If you don't care, then forget what I said." Professor Nesbitt
rose to his feet, stretching. "I think I'll turn in as well. Good night,
child."

"Good
night, Father. I think I'll make myself a hot lemon and honey to relax me."
She knew her smile was a feeble attempt, but she wanted time to think.

She stood at the
stove, stirring the boiling water into the lemon and honey mixture, arguing
silently with herself. Big deal! You'll be sleeping with your husband! But I
haven't been sleeping with him since we came back to New York, she argued back.
So? Her inner demon prodded. Go to bed and forget about it. Rafe's probably
sound asleep. Why did she think he was so concerned about her? Wasn't he just
waiting for the right time to suggest that they divorce?

She swallowed
the last of her hot drink and nodded her head, agreeing with the last thought.
She rinsed out the cup and left it on the drainboard.

As
she climbed the stairs she inhaled the smells and sensations that emanated from
the old house. She could almost hear her own laughter when she and a childhood
friend had slid down the curving oak banister.

She hurried into
the small bathroom that opened onto the hall and also into the bedroom that had
been hers as a girl. She knew that Rafe would be in her double bed with the
white eyelet canopy and dust ruffle to match. He would not want to give Mrs.
Tibbs anything to gossip about when she came to make up the rooms tomorrow, so
he would expect no fuss from her.

She
dawdled over brushing her teeth and washing her face. Tonight she would try to
find one of her old nightgowns. Since her marriage to Rafe, she had gotten
into the habit of sleeping nude, but she wouldn't do that tonight.

She padded into
the bedroom clad only in her bra and panties, finding her way easily in the
dark room. She grabbed for the first garment at hand and grimaced when she
discovered it was a high-neck, long-sleeve flannel nightie that she had worn in
her early college days.

She
sighed as sheI slipped it over her head after removing her undergarments,
knowing she would feel like an uncomfortable bundle.

She
edged into bed, then lay there as stiff as a board, clinging to her side of the
bed. Just as she was beginning to relax, having decided that Rafe must be
asleep, she felt the bed move and sag as he turned and reached for her.

"Sorry to disappoint you. I'm awake, Cady. And I'm
going to hold you," he grated next to her ear.