Daddy's Home

“When you called, you said you wanted to apologize.” This time, she chose to sit across from him on the sofa. “And as I told you on the phone, it’s not necessary. I know you were upset about the way the media have been prying into your life.”

“That doesn’t justify the way I behaved, but I want you to know I...” He hesitated as the truth hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was here not simply to apologize but because of the way she had looked at him. As if he could give her something no one else could give her. He’d responded to her in a purely masculine way.

“I want to set the record straight,” he finally concluded.

“Well, you can consider it straightened,” she said with an indifference he found annoying.

At that point in the conversation, he should have excused himself and headed for the door. The air had been cleared. There was no reason for him not to walk out of her life and not look back.

But something kept him sitting in that chair. Maybe it was the haunted look in her eyes. Or maybe it was because he could smell the faint aroma of her perfume. Or maybe it was because he simply liked looking at her. Whatever the reason, instead of getting up to leave, he said, “I see the cast is gone.”

“Gone, but not forgotten,” she remarked dryly.

“I broke my arm as a kid and I still remember what it was like. Heavy. Itchy.” He shook his head wistfully. “Your leg’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “The doctor said it healed remarkably well.”

She looked everywhere but at him when she talked. Tyler wondered what was going through her mind and finally asked, “And what about the rest of you? Has that healed remarkably well, too?”

Her head jerked up. “It’s been a slow process, but I’m getting there.”

“I’m glad to hear that” The silence that followed quickly became awkward. Tyler ended it by saying, “I should probably go.”

Just as he was about to get up, she said, “Do you ever wonder why we were chosen?”

“Chosen for what?”

“To survive.”

The question caught him off guard. “I don’t think we were chosen exactly. It just happened that way.”

She looked at him then, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “None of the others had a chance to escape,” she said quietly. “Why us?”

Tyler knew exactly what she was saying. He would have been lying if he’d told her he didn’t ever question the reason for their survival. But it was a subject he kept tucked away in the back of his mind in a file he didn’t want to access. That’s why he breathed a sigh of relief when his pager beeped.

“Is there a phone I could use?” he asked.

She pointed to the one on the end table, then stood. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Tyler waited until she was gone, then phoned the number showing on his pager. It was the security guard at the plant wanting to let him know that a missing set of keys had been found. Nothing that needed his immediate attention.

Kristen didn’t know that. He could easily have said he was needed at the plant and left. He didn’t. He wandered into the kitchen where he found her filling a kettle at the sink.

“I thought I’d have a cup of tea. Would you like one?” she asked over her shoulder.

He glanced at the counter and saw a can of clam chowder for one. He had a pretty good idea that it was going to be her dinner as soon as he was gone.

“You like seafood?” he asked her.

“Yes, why?”

“I know a great place where they make good clam chowder.” He saw her glance at the can of soup. “Want to come with me?” The words were out before he could question their wisdom.

“Now?”

“You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“No, but—”

“So let me buy you a bowl of real soup.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, blushing.

“You don’t need to eat?” he asked, trying for a lighter tone.

It didn’t work. “You don’t have to buy me dinner.” She set the kettle on the stove.

“I’d like to.”

“It’s a nice gesture, but...” She paused as if considering whether or not she should tell him the reason for the “but.” Finally, she said, “I find it’s better if I don’t go out in public”

“Better how?”

She looked a bit uneasy as she said, “Being on television makes me the object of attention. I prefer to stay home rather than have people staring at me.”

“Did you feel this way before the crash, too?”

“Not really. With a job like mine, I expect to be recognized, but what I don’t want is pity.” She hugged herself as if suddenly cold.

“Then you’ll like this place with the great clam chowder. It’s small, and all the people who go there only want a quiet dinner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Really,” he repeated. “So will you come?”

From the way she hesitated, he thought she was about to turn down his offer. Then to his surprise, she said, “I’ll get my coat.”

KRISTEN DIDN’T UNDERSTAND why Tyler had asked her to dinner. Even worse, she didn’t understand why she’d accepted. She didn’t want to go out in public, yet here she was in his car on the way to a restaurant where people would stare at her.

Even though the swelling had gone down and the bruising had disappeared, the surgery had left subtle differences in her face that seemed more noticeable to her than to others—at least that’s what Gayle told her. And although she could hide most of the scarring with makeup so the rest of the world didn’t see, she knew what lay beneath the creams and powders.

As they pulled into the parking lot across from an old warehouse in downtown Minneapolis, Kristen felt her muscles tense. Neon signs identified several bars and restaurants in the building. Tyler led her through a door with an overhead sign flashing Eddie’s in red lights with an arrow pointing up.

They climbed two flights of stairs before he pushed open a door that led into the restaurant. The atmosphere was casual, the lighting dim. Piano music drifted across the room, muting the sound of clinking silverware. They checked their coats at the small counter inside the door, then waited to be seated.

Judging by the maitre d’s enthusiastic greeting, Tyler was a regular guest. Their host led them to a table for two in a corner of the room, smiling knowingly as he held Kristen’s chair for her.