Tread Softly (6 page)

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. Even 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
Trabold 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.