Читать книгу Daddy's Home - Pamela Bauer, Pamela Bauer - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

TYLER CHASTISED HIMSELF all the way home from Kristen’s. He shouldn’t have gone to see her. He could’ve telephoned and accomplished the same results. It would’ve been the wiser thing to do because he wouldn’t now be haunted by the look on her face when she’d shown him her swollen, bruised cheek.

He could still see that angry, defensive stare she’d given him as she thrust her face under the light. She’d thought he’d be shocked into some kind of negative reaction. What she hadn’t realized was that—compared with the way her cheek had looked when he’d last seen her—her face looked remarkably good.

She must have had the top reconstructive surgeon in the country. It only made sense. She made her living based on her looks. Maybe he should have said something positive about her face.

But he suspected that no matter what he might’ve said, she would’ve interpreted it as pity. And it was obvious she was already immersed in enough of that herself. Besides, he doubted that she would’ve believed him if he’d told her it didn’t look as bad as she thought it did.

There probably wasn’t a thing he could’ve said that would’ve eased her pain. Not even the truth, which was that he was surprised at what the plastic surgeon had accomplished

Even if some scarring remained, her beauty would still be intact. Until today, he had attributed part of her attractiveness to the skill of makeup artists. But tonight there had been no makeup, no fake eyelashes, no designer wardrobe, no hairstyle created by an expensive salon. Tonight he had seen the woman, not the TV news anchor.

Gone was the self-confident, smiling face that still appeared in ads for the Channel 12 news. In its place was a hauntingly sad face that tugged on his emotions. He wished that his anger with Keith Jaxson hadn’t kept him from acting like a decent human being. It wouldn’t have cost him anything to show her some compassion.

The problem was, would compassion be all that he needed to give her? The minute she’d opened the door to him, he’d felt as if he were opening a can of worms better left undisturbed. Every instinct inside him warned him that as much as he wanted to help Kristen Kellar, he couldn’t allow himself to be drawn into her life.

After what happened when Susan died, he knew better than to let his heart dictate any course of action. Tough was what he needed to be. Emotionally and mentally. It was the only way he would survive. And he had to survive. For his daughter’s sake.

Kristen Kellar would just have to find her way out of the darkness without his help.

IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, Kristen saw little of Keith. He told her his involvement with a celebrity basketball game was taking all his free time, but she suspected that he simply didn’t want to be around her. As Gayle often said, it was a good thing Keith hadn’t become a doctor. He was seriously lacking when it came to bedside manners.

So she was surprised when he offered to take her to the doctor on the day her cast was to be removed. Knowing how much he disliked being around hospitals, she saw it as a sign that he was making an effort to fix whatever was wrong between them.

Although it was a cold, gray November day, Kristen felt as though the sun were shining when she walked out of the hospital minus the cast. On the way home, Keith invited her to lunch at the Chinese Lantern. When she suggested they get takeout, he agreed and told her he wanted to have some time alone with her.

As they sat across from each other at her kitchen table, it felt almost like old times. She could feel the tension seeping out of her body as they talked.

“It’s a good thing it’s almost winter,” she commented as they ate Szechuan chicken with their chopsticks. “My leg’s looking pretty puny.”

Keith smiled his perfect smile and said, “The good news is that you’re no longer confined to this apartment. It’s time you get out and do things. Have some fun.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, although the very thought sent a ripple of fear through her. She pushed aside her half-eaten meal and concentrated on her tea. “I’ll have to get back into things slowly.” She emphasized the word “slowly.”

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad to hear you say that because we need to make plans.”

“Plans?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, turning his attention back to his food, which he ate with enthusiasm. “You know, for our trip?”

Anxiety crept through her nerves. “Trip?”

“To the Bahamas. For Thanksgiving.” He gave her a broad grin. “You haven’t forgotten about it, have you?”

She hadn’t forgotten. She knew they were supposed to meet his family for the holiday, but she’d assumed that because of what had happened those plans would be postponed. She opened a packet of artificial sweetener and added it to her tea. “You still want to go?”

“Of course. It’ll be good for us. We’ll get away from the cold. Spend some time with my family.”

She took a sip of tea, then looked at him over the cup. “Maybe we should stay here. I know how to roast a turkey. We could have a quiet dinner for two at either your place or mine.”

“On Thanksgiving?” He shot her a look of disbelief. “It’s a day to be with friends and family. My mom says there’ll be twelve of the Jaxsons there. And Bob’s already arranged the schedules so we can both be gone at the same time. Can’t you just see it? Four days and nights on the white sand beaches, lying in the sun, drinking pina coladas. It’ll be great for you. We’ll tan up that puny white leg of yours.” He looked at her with excitement beaming all over his face.

Kristen was not excited. The four days and nights on the beach sounded wonderful, but there was one huge problem Keith didn’t know ahout

There was no way she was ready to get back on an airplane. Not yet.

“You’re not saying anything.” Some of the excitement faded from his face.

“It sounds lovely....”

“But?”

She wet her lips before she tried to explain. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. I do. But the last time I was on a plane, it crashed.” She had to clutch her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling at the memory.

“I know it was a traumatic experience for you, but you have to remember that plane crashes are rare. Especially among the big airlines. I think your chances of ever being involved in one are something like one in 250,000.”

“Well, I lost to the odds, didn’t I?” she said grimly.

He groaned and threw down his napkin in frustration. “It’s not going to happen again, and you can’t even think there’s a possibility it might.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Yes, it is, because I understand the laws of probability. It’s far more dangerous to drive your Audi to work each day than it is to get on a plane.” When she didn’t say anything, he tried another tack. “Come on, honey. You’re not going to let fear keep you from doing something you want to do, are you? Do you really plan to let fear run your life?”

“You can put away your amateur psychology. It’s not going to work.” She started clearing the dishes.

“Are you saying you won’t even think about it?”

“I can’t think about it. It’s too soon.” She scraped the remains of her lunch into the garbage disposal and turned it on, not wanting to look at her fiancé. Because she knew there wouldn’t be understanding in his eyes—only impatience.

Actually, he was angry. “This isn’t like you, Kristen.”

“What isn’t like me?”

“The way you’ve been behaving. Ever since you’ve come home from the hospital, you’ve been moody and indifferent. You haven’t been interested in anything I have to say. You haven’t cared whether we even spend any time together.”

“Don’t try to make me the villain in all this, Keith. In all the time I’ve been cooped up here in my apartment, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve visited,” she snapped, still keeping her back to him as she rinsed dishes in the sink.

“And whose fault is that?”

She turned around then and glared at him. “Well, I can tell by the tone of your voice you don’t think it’s yours.”

“Because every time I come over, I feel like I’m on a roller coaster with your emotions. You’re either angry or depressed or anxious or tired.” He rose to his feet and came to stand in front of her.

“Well, excuse me,” she drawled. “I was in a crash that almost killed me.”

“Which is all the more reason why you should be deliriously happy. You’re alive!”

Kristen stared at him in disbelief. He just didn’t get it. It was because she was alive that she was having problems. She had survived; eight others hadn’t. Not a day passed when she didn’t question why she had been given the chance to live. It was a terrible burden to carry, one that had her questioning almost everything in her life.

Keith grasped her by the shoulders. “What I want to know is what happened to the woman I fell in love with? The one who loved being with people? The one who always had a smile and chose to look at the glass as being half-full instead of half-empty?”

“I guess you’ll have to accept that she’s changed,” she said soberly.

“Well, it hasn’t been for the better.”

The look on his face sent a chill through Kristen. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t keep the tears from misting in her eyes. “I’m trying to get my life back together, but I feel as if my whole world has been turned upside down. Last month there wasn’t a cloud on my horizon. Now...” Her words trailed off on a sob.

The sight of her tears made him pull her into his arms and hug her. “I know it’s been tough, but you have to get on with your life. You can’t wallow in self-pity.”

She pushed him away, swallowing back the tears. “Self-pity? Is that what you think this is?”

He groaned again. “I don’t know what it is. All I know is that you have to make some effort to move forward. I can’t take much more of this.”

“Is that some kind of ultimatum? Either I get happy or else?”

He left her question unanswered, only saying, “You’re tired. You’d better get some rest.” He started for the door, grabbing his jacket on the way. “I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for work.”

And Kristen added one more to the total number of days that had passed without his kissing her.

TYLER DIDN’T EXPECT that he’d ever see Kristen Kellar again. But it bothered him that he’d been so abrupt with her. He’d blamed her for something she hadn’t done, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he owed her an apology. When his mother showed him KC’s column one morning, he called Kristen to tell her he was coming over to see her.

According to the gossip columnist, there were problems in paradise. The engagement was all but a thing of the past and her job at the television station was looking pretty uncertain, as well. Rumor was that her injuries from the plane crash were more serious than the station had reported earlier.

None of these things should have been any concern of Tyler’s. Whatever happened to Kristen Kellar was none of his business. Or at least he didn’t want it to be. But he couldn’t forget the way she looked when he’d been at her apartment. So alone. So lost. So vulnerable.

She looked as if she needed someone to take care of her. He raked a hand through his hair as he drove. He had made a habit of staying away from women who were emotionally needy. Yet here he was driving over to check on one he hardly knew and bringing her flowers.

As he parked his car, he made a promise to himself. “You are going to go in there, see that she’s all right, apologize and leave. That’s it.”

All it took was one look at her and Tyler knew he couldn’t keep any such promise. When she opened the door, he saw that the cast was gone from her leg. Instead of wearing sweatpants cut off at the knee, she had on a pair of dark leggings and a long, baggy white sweater that hid her slender curves. Even without the cast, she looked more fragile than the last time.

She didn’t smile when she saw him. He wasn’t surprised. He’d given her no reason to do anything but scowl at him.

“Mr. Brant,” she said, standing with her hip propped against the door, her body language telling him he was not welcome.

“Tyler,” he corrected her. “These are for you.” He handed her the bouquet of flowers. “I should’ve sent them to the hospital.”

“It wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” She took the flowers from him.

“Can I come in?”

She looked as if she wanted to say no but finally stepped aside. Her hair was shiny and it bounced as she walked. She still combed it so that it fell over her left cheek. He could tell she’d been expecting him by the order in the apartment. Unlike the last time he’d visited, there were no dirty dishes in the living room.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” he said as once more he took one of the chairs in the living room.

“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.

Before she could sit, however, Tyler said softly, “Why don’t you take this one. That way you can see the piano player.”

Kristen knew a better view wasn’t the real motive for his suggestion. In his chair, her left side would be hidden from the other guests.

“Thank you,” she said, changing places with him. Suddenly self-conscious, she fumbled with her napkin, adjusted the silverware and took a drink of water. Then she glanced across the room to where a woman sat at a piano playing a medley of pop tunes. “This is an interesting place.”

“I like it because you can hear yourself talk and because Eddie makes the best clam chowder in town.”

“Then you come here often?”

“Not anymore. At one time, Brant Electronics used to be just around the corner, so we spent a lot of time here.”

They hadn’t been sitting there long when a couple walked by. Kristen reached for her purse on the floor.

When she straightened and looked at Tyler, he asked, “What bothers you more? That they’ll recognize you as the Channel 12 anchor or that they’ll see your scars?”

She looked into his eyes expecting to see pity, but there was none. There was merely an interest she found comforting.

“Both,” she answered honestly. “Before the accident I knew people often thought I looked different from the way I looked on television, but maybe now they’re wondering if that difference isn’t because of the accident. Everyone knows I’ve had plastic surgery.”

“That sounds like a normal concern someone in your situation would have.”

“I haven’t been out in public much since the crash.” She toyed with her silverware again and finally said, “Look. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Wait Give me a couple of minutes,” he said, getting up from the table. He was only gone maybe two or three minutes before he returned with the maitre d’. He bent and whispered in her ear, “We’re moving.”

They followed the host to a door marked Private. It was a banquet room with several long tables. Tyler pulled out a chair for her at the end of one of them, as the maitre d’ left only to return moments later with a tablecloth, silverware, wineglasses and a bottle of sparkling wine. When he finished setting the end of their table, he poured them each a glass and said, “I’ll send someone in to take your order.”

As soon as he was gone, Tyler asked, “Is this better?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Another silence stretched between them and again Kristen had to wonder why he’d brought her to dinner. Not once on the way over in the car had he mentioned the crash, and from the sober expression on his face, she wondered if he wasn’t regretting his invitation.

Finally, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For your having to sit in here. You can’t hear the music.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t come for the music.”

“Why did you come?” she couldn’t resist asking. “Or maybe I should ask why did you bring me?”

His eyes met hers. They looked uncertain, something she was convinced was a rarity. Tyler Brant appeared to be a man who knew what he wanted. “Maybe I just don’t like to think of anyone eating soup for one.”

She lowered her eyes. He felt sorry for her. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. “I’m usually not alone. You forget I have a fiancé.” She waved her diamond solitaire in front of him.

“Then the crash hasn’t delayed your wedding plans?”

“No. Why should it?”

“KC’s column in the paper said—”

“Do you always believe what you read in a gossip column?”

“I usually don’t read the gossip column.”

“Good, because it’s very often just based on hearsay.”

“Then you haven’t put your personal plans on hold?”

“No, nothing’s changed,” she answered, knowing perfectly well that her answer wasn’t the truth. However, her relationship with Keith wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with Tyler Brant. She lowered her eyes, worried that what she was thinking might be reflected in her eyes.

“That’s good,” he answered.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed with a false confidence. “What about you? I know that you were on your way to Hibbing to survey the damage from a fire to one of your plants that day. Is your life back to normal again, too?”

“Yes. Busy as usual. Never enough hours in a day, it seems.”

“You have a daughter, right?”

“Yes. Brittany. She’s six.”

“What’s she like?”

He smiled affectionately. “Precocious. Knows far too much for a six-year-old.”

“Does she know about the plane crash?”

He nodded grimly. “She saw my picture on the front page of the newspaper when she was at the grocery store with my mother.”

“Did it have any lasting effect on her?”

“No, she’s fine,” he answered.

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, too.”

Kristen felt a wave of disappointment. She’d been hoping he’d give her some hint that he, too, hadn’t completely recovered from the emotional trauma of the crash.

“You’re lucky,” she told him.

Any warmth that might have been in his face disappeared. He looked her straight in the eye and said, “No. I wouldn’t exactly call myself lucky.”

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but the appearance of the waiter preempted any further conversation. At Tyler’s suggestion, Kristen chose the evening special along with a cup of clam chowder.

When the waiter left, Tyler asked, “Do you know when you’ll return to work?”

“Is that your way of asking me if what KC said about my losing my job is also true?”

He gave her an apologetic smile. “Is it? Is there a chance you might lose your spot on the news?”

She shrugged. “I shouldn’t, but working in television is not like going to work in an office.”

“Are you saying they can replace you because you’ve had to take some time off to recover from the accident?”

“No. But as I said before, I don’t know how viewers will react to the way I look now. And in TV that’s what counts. The viewing audience can be fickle. And no station manager likes to see the ratings drip.”

Again, she wasn’t being quite truthful. But she was reluctant to admit that the issue wasn’t simply one of whether or not the station would replace her, but rather one of her own loss of confidence in her ability to be successful in the anchor spot.

“However, my boss assures me I have a job whenever I want to return.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re good at what you do.”

His compliment gave her a warm, tingly feeling. “So you’ve seen me on the air?”

He smiled then—a wonderful smile that turned the tingle into a shiver of pleasure. “I doubt there’s anyone in this area who hasn’t. You look like you were born to sit in that chair.”

“I guess it’s really a dream come true. As a child, I always wanted to work in television. I just never thought it would happen.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one thing, I was very shy.”

“Now that I find hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” she assured him. “My mother had to drag me by the hand to school. That’s when she decided to have me enter child beauty pageants. She figured that competing in the pageants would give me self-confidence, make me more outgoing.”

“And did it?”

She shrugged. “It did help me get used to being in front of an audience and I did learn how to be comfortable in an interview, but I never really enjoyed the competitions the way some of the girls did. I would gladly have traded the crown, sash and trophy for a chance to be a regular kid. One who went in-line skating in the street and played softball in the park.”

“You didn’t get to do those things?”

She shook her head. “Mom was always worrying that I’d skin a knee or bruise a shin. Besides, there wasn’t much time for play. There were dance lessons, piano lessons, voice lessons, sessions with a personal trainer, costume fittings...” She sighed wistfully at the memories. “I guess it probably wasn’t any tougher than what athletes go through when they train for competition.”

“You don’t strike me as the competitive type,” he observed.

“I’m not,” she told him, pleased by his comment.

“But Mom was?” he prodded gently.

She nodded, then felt embarrassed. “That’s not to say she was some kind of crazed stage mother. It wasn’t like that. She was always so proud of me, even when I didn’t win.”

“I find it hard to believe you could ever lose a beauty contest.”