Ann Cristy (Helen Mittermeyer)

by Tread Softly (lit)

  "Yes, I can see that you're in love, child." Professor Nesbitt embraced his daughter. "I want you to be happy."

  Their wedding was supposed to be a small one. Both Rafe and Cady had agreed on a ceremony in the Cornell Chapel and a small dinner party afterward with just a few family members.

  Emmett Densmore had tried to change that, insisting that the wedding be held in St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. When Cady balked, her father inter­vened and told Emmett that the wedding would take place in the chapel. Rafe sided with the professor.

  Cady mumbled in her sleep, still seeing in her mind's eyes the fomenting rage in the elder Densmore when he was thwarted on the wedding plans and remembering with horror the circus of people at the reception, people Emmett had insisted on inviting.

  "Don't worry, darling, we'll be leaving soon and won't have to bother with any of them," Rafe had whispered into her ear, his hand caressing her spine.

  "But how about poor Father?" she had said, sipping from the champagne glass that Rafe held to her lips.

  "If I know my new father-in-law, he'll just quietly disappear after a suitable time and go home." Rafe laughed, leading her out onto the dance floor of the country club that Emmett Densmore had rented for the day; he had herded the guests there after the small dinner party hosted by her father for the small number of people who had been invited to the wedding.

  Cady had been aghast at the large group assembled at the country club and had been glad of Rafe's constant presence at her side. He hadn't faltered once when he introduced her to their guests in the long and tedious receiving line that Emmett had insisted on.

  "Damn it, boy, you have to keep the image intact. You're a politician." He had looked at Cady, a hint of contempt in his smile. "I assume that your schoolgirl bride understands what a politician is. A woman like Lee Terris would have had no trouble in understanding. You dated her for a long time."

  Rafe had stiffened at Cady's side, his arm pulling her even closer to him. "Cady understands my life and will be an active part of it." His voice lowered. "I won't let anyone put her down—not anyone, do you hear me?"

  Father looked at son, their wills concrete walls push­ing against each other.

  "You don't have to protect your wife from Densmores, boy. She's one herself now." Emmett's voice was hearty, but his eyes were as hard and cold as slate.

  Their honeymoon had been paradise. The first eve­ning, when Bruno Trabold called, Rafe had told him not to call again, that he was unhooking the phone and that they would be back from Santo Tomas Island in three weeks. They had sipped more champagne, and between sips Rafe had kissed her. "I feel I've waited forever for you, Cady, love." He had loosened her hair from the fash­ionable chignon that Cady was sure made her look more sophisticated. "I don't like all that sunlight twisted and tied back." He had eased the blouse from her shoulders. "God, Cady, of all days for you to wear a bra," Rafe had groaned.

  She had laughed, feeling excited but not the least worried. She was where she belonged, in the arms of the man she loved and who loved her. Her fingers began an exploration of their own, unbuttoning his shirt and tangling themselves in the hair on his chest. When she felt his chest contract, her pulse quickened.

  "Cady, darling, I'm going to kiss every inch of your body," he growled into her neck, his hands busy at her skirt zipper. "You're not frightened, are you, angel?"

  "No. I'm where I want to be." Cady nuzzled her lips along his jawline, liking the fresh-shaven feel.

  "I hope you won't mind spending three weeks in bed," Rafe muttered, his lips pulling on one nipple until it was like a pale ruby. His left hand cupped the fullness of the other breast, his thumb gently stroking the nipple.

  "How did you get my clothes off so fast?" Cady asked with a dazed gasp.

  "I've been practicing in my dreams since I met you," Rafe rumbled, not moving his face from between her breasts as his hands continued down her body, now naked to his eager ministrations. "Undress me, love."

  Cady's hands had never been faster or surer as she helped him disrobe. She wanted to be close to Rafe, to belong to him. Nothing and no one would ever separate them then. She felt the cushions of the couch shift as he levered himself erect with her in his arms. "I never knew that a man could have such a beautiful body," she crooned, her index finger curving down his ear to his neck.

  Rafe's laugh was hoarse as he mounted the stairs two at a time. "I'm glad you like my body, angel, because I love yours." His mouth closed over hers in a hard kiss. "I wanted to make love to you the first time up here where we almost made love before, the day we became engaged."

  "The day Bruno interrupted us. I remember." Cady frowned.

  "Don't think of anyone but me now, wife," Rafe com­manded as he followed her down to the bed, his hands and mouth taking possession of her at once. "I want you to stay with me always, Cady," Rafe had moaned to her as Cady feather-touched his spine.

  "I'll never go unless you send me away." Her voice had faded as sensations erupted like a flash flood, her hands coming up to clutch him, her body turning to molten lava.

  When he lifted himself over her, Cady was eager for him. The sudden pain came as a surprise. Before it could register, Rafe was soothing her, beginning a rhythm that started her spinning. She heard someone calling Rafe's name, and through a hot pink haze she realized it was herself.

  "Darling, I can't hold back any longer," Rafe had called to her, but Cady hadn't heard him. The vortex had caught her as well and spun them together off the planet.

  Cady felt as though her body had been oiled from the inside out as she relaxed against Rafe their bodies sliding together.

  It had been like that for three weeks. They had made love wherever they happened to be at the time—the beach, the living room, the sea. It had been idyllic, a dream.

  Where had the dream gone? What had happened to pull them apart? It wasn't just the snide innuendos of Bruno Trabold and Emmett, even though their attitude helped widen the fissure in their marriage. What had been the real weapon that corroded and eroded their relationship?

  The nightmare questions shook her from her reverie. She looked into the blue-ice of her husband and felt afraid.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After several weeks of intensive speech and physical therapy, Rafe was pronounced fit enough to go home. His physical therapy would be continued with the male nurse Trock, who had come to work for Cady soon after Rafe's operation. Trock had told Cady he was willing to take instruction in the procedures that Rafe would be using and that he had a general knowledge of therapy from his many years working at nursing homes and pre­viously at a veterans' hospital.

  It would have been so perfect, Cady thought, if Rafe did not still have that coldness in his eyes whenever they were alone. To his credit, he treated her with warmth in the presence of others and was very supportive of her in front of his family.

  Cady had made up her mind that if they were to get a divorce, the suggestion wouldn't come from her. She felt a simmering hurt that all her efforts to bring Rafe back to the land of the living might result in losing him. That painful smolder lasted about a week after Rafe came

  home. Then the pain turned to anger. To hell with it, Cady thought, I'm not walking a tightrope anymore. I won't give Rafe up without a fight, she ruminated to herself one day while she was out riding, but I damn well am not going to wear my heart on my sleeve.

  She could see Rafe's puzzlement at her new, relaxed attitude. Her offhand way with him seemed to make him wary at first, then she sensed a sort of relieved air about him. He began to treat her much the same way. Cady still felt the estrangement between them, but there was an understanding now, a cautious acceptance of each other.

  She felt relieved by the strong support Rafe gave her whenever his family was near. It was obvious to her that her father-in-law had not forgiven her for bypassing him and insisting that Rafe have the operation. Emmett Dens-more had a long memory, and he would not forget that Cady had deceived him. Ev
en though he was happy that his son was getting back to full strength, Emmett would not forget what Cady had done. Most of the time when Emmett visited, she avoided him.

  One day, when Rafe had been out of the hospital for several weeks and was able to pull himself around with the help of two canes, Emmett arrived in his usual whirl­wind manner, Bruno at his side.

  Cady was out on the back lawn watching Trock lift Rafe into part of the complicated gym apparatus that had been installed both inside and outside the house. She wasn't quick enough to retreat. She had turned to see what had made Graf rise to his feet and growl. She sighed, wishing that Durra weren't just across the county into Maryland but across the country instead.

  "Why don't you get rid of that dangerous dog, Cady?" Emmett snapped, looking with distaste from Cady to the brown Doberman. "He could be a danger to Rafe."

  "He loves Rafe." Cady cleared her throat.

  Emmett fixed her with a gimlet gaze. "And how would you know what's good for my son?" he hissed, his eyes sliding to Rafe some distance away, then back again.

  "When have you ever known what was right for him? God knows, and so do I, that you're not the right wife for him. He needs a strong woman like Lee Terris, not a cream puff like you." Emmett spat out the words as though something had soured his taste buds.

  Cady ignored Bruno's chuckle, feeling the blood drain downward in her body. "When Rafe was ill," she said, her voice expressionless though her insides were churn­ing, "the dog provided needed diversion for him. Graf now has the idea that he must care for Rafe. He is never far from Rafe or Trock," she finished woodenly.

  "And that's another thing." Emmett bit off the end of his cigar and allowed Bruno to light it for him. "That man Trock—what do you know about him? Why have you let him move in here? I don't trust him, and I can't forget how he kept me at that damned nursing home with a cock-and-bull story about Rafe having gone for some special kind of physical therapy while in reality my son was undergoing a dangerous operation without my con­sent. Of course you cooked up that story for him to tell me." His heavy-lidded gaze narrowed on her. "I won't forget that, Cady."

  Cady forced herself not to shudder, keeping her eyes on Rafe's slow but steady approach across the lawn. He had dropped the canes and was making way under his own power. >

  Some feet away Rafe stopped to catch his breath, his eyes going from Cady to his father. "What are you saying to my wife, Dad?" His voice was almost at the deep timbre it had been before the accident. "I don't like that white face she gets when you're around her." His eyes had the fathomless expression they often wore when he looked at her.

  Emmett bristled. "How do you expect me to feel to­ward her after she bamboozled me like that? You know what she did." With one more grim look at his daughter-in-law, Emmett strode toward his son, slapping him on the back. He ignored Trock and looked askance at the dog who ambled at Rafe's side.

  "Yes, I know what Cady did for me. She saved my life. She did everything necessary to see that my wishes were honored." Rafe looked straight at Cady again. "I won't have her intimidated in any way," he warned, repeating what he had said on their wedding day.

  "Don't be a fool, boy." As the dog crowded next to Rafe when he took a chair, Emmett glared. "Get rid of that dog. Have it destroyed. It's dangerous."

  Rafe rubbed the silken, pointed ears, the strong brown neck. "I can't do that. He's a friend." Rafe smiled as the dog rubbed his strong muzzle against his master's hand. "Cady found him near our summer home on Lake Ca­yuga. Graf was a starving pup then." The Doberman wagged his minuscule tail as though he knew they were talking about him. "Now he looks more like a deer than a dog. A real beauty, isn't he?" He looked over at his father, who had just drawn up another lawn chair beside his son's. "You have something on your mind, Dad. What is it?"

  "Now that you're easing back into the job and will soon begin a full-scale campaign, I want you to do some­thing about that nuclear power plant on the Hudson that Greeley is so interested in..." Emmett began, flicking the ash from his cigar onto the flagstone patio.

  "I'm sorry, Dad, but Cady has made me see what a destructive thing that would be for the environment. She's fully researched it, and I have no quarrel with her facts, so the answer is no."

  "What?" Emmett surged to his feet, tossing his cigar down with a hard thrust, missing the Doberman by inches. "I told Greeley he could count on your support."

  "Then tell him you were wrong. I was keeping an open mind about supporting the measure before the ac­cident, but I hadn't had a chance to look into the spe­cifics. Cady has. She's shown me the damage that it would do to wildlife and the existing fishing in the area, as well as the sordid profit motive of its promoters. I won't support it."

  "You're going to listen to a half-baked girl who doesn't know—" Emmett huffed, a dark red mottling his neck and cheeks.

  "Cady is a thirty-year-old woman who has done a good job for the state of New York." Rafe's voice was granite hard, his eyes blue chips of anger.

  "Are you going to turn your back on the political machine that elected you?" Emmett bellowed, bringing a wary Graf to his feet. "And you keep that damn dog off me or I'll bring a gun next time I come and shoot it myself. Come on, Bruno, let's get out of here before I really let go."

  The two men had almost rounded the house when Rafe called to them. "Cady is having that barbecue on Saturday. I assume you're coming." His voice was mild.

  "Yes, I am, damn you, if for nothing else than to make sure you don't let that scheming wife of yours sink your political boat altogether," Emmett fumed, turning away and charging toward the bright yellow Rolls-Royce where Bruno was holding the passenger-side door open.

  "You should do twenty more of the hand pulls, Sen­ator," Trock said woodenly, handing two metal grips to Rafe.

  "We can pass for now, Trock," Rafe answered, hand­ing the grips back to the attendant.

  "Do it now," Trock insisted, his hand softly prodding Graf's neck.

  "Don't argue," Cady said, laughing, as she urged Rafe back toward the outdoor gym. "You know he won't give up."

  "Trock, when I'm strong enough, I'm going to chain you to that gym out there and leave you." Rafe glared at the other man.

  "All right, Senator, do that. For now get back to work." The phlegmatic Trock waited until Rafe moved and then followed him.

  Cady felt a glow as she watched Rafe pull himself up on the bars. He no longer needed his wheelchair, and like today, when his father was around, he sometimes eschewed the use of his twin metal canes. She sighed when she thought of Saturday and the crowd that it would bring to the Highlands, their home in Virginia. She longed for the anonymity that their sum­mer home in upstate New York always gave them. The people there weren't impressed with having a senator in residence, and Cady always felt a freedom in Ithaca that she could not find elsewhere.

  "Cady?" Rafe gave a twist of a smile when she jumped. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to tell you that I know how hard it is for you to deal with my family and that I appreciate the way you try to get along with them." He licked his lips and smiled at Trock when the man handed him a frosted glass of lemonade. He took a long drink, looked at Cady, then away again. "I know it must have been hell for you all that time, working as hard as you did in my office, then coming to visit me every day... not missing once."

  "Stop. Don't say any more, Rafe. I wanted to..." Cady began.

  "I have to say it, Cady. If I live five lifetimes, I won't be able to thank you for what you did for me." He took a deep breath. "No matter how things go for us...I won't let anyone—and that includes my family—hurt you in any way if I can prevent it. You'll never have reason to be ashamed of me again as a husband." He tried to smile. "I'll do everything I can to ensure your happiness."

  Cady stared at the red circles high on Rafe's cheek­bones and wondered if he realized that she knew about the parties at Durra or the scandal that had been a political mini volcano at the time. She wondered if he was aware that Bruno Trab
old had been most eager to keep her informed of the many call girls and political groupies who still went to Durra and elsewhere to enliven the good times of Rafe and his friends. Cady sighed inward­ly. To give Rafe credit, since his release from the hos­pital, he hadn't attended any of these gatherings. He really wasn't strong enough to party, she thought. She swallowed, looked at her husband, and nodded.

  * * *

  On Saturday Rafe surprised her by saying that he would supervise the cooking of the special white hots, the pork frankfurters that were made only in Rochester, New York, and were a delight to everyone who tried them at their parties.

  Cady had often heard the story about the German butchers who had emigrated to the upstate city and settled in sections that retained their unusual nicknames even after the city had grown up around them. She watched as her husband laid out the barbecuing equipment he would need.

  "The first area is quite old," Rafe explained, a rueful smile on his lips as if acknowledging that he had told her all of this at some earlier time. "It was called the Butter Hole. The other section is called simply Dutch-town. The strong heritage of these people kept them making sausage in the old country way. Pork hots are the happy result of this."

  "I love them myself," Cady confessed. "I let other people eat the beef barbecue, the ribs, and the chicken. I love the hots." She giggled. "Some of the people com­ing today won't be comfortable with any of the food we're serving. Should I have had side dishes of Beluga caviar?"

  The shout of laughter from Rafe made her heart sing. He was getting well! She smothered the inner voice that reminded her that he might seek a divorce as soon as he was fully recovered. She wouldn't think of that now.

  Cady felt a well of depression pull at her. Now was the time to explain about Rob Ardmore. Now was the time to assure Rafe that Rob was a friend, sometimes even a lifeline to her when she was trying to battle the frustrations of the Senate and the unyielding wall that Emmett and his cohorts had erected against her.