Daddy's Home

Gayle glanced at her watch. “It is getting late. Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

Kristen nodded. “Positive. I have everything I need. A good book, the remote control and a bottle of diet soda. What more could I want?” she quipped.

She didn’t fool her best friend. “There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to be patient.”

Kristen nodded. “I know.”

Gayle ejected the rewound tape and slipped it back into its case. “You know any time you want to get back into the swing of things you can always tag along with me. You don’t have to go back to the news desk.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not ready to go back yet,” she said a bit more defensively than she intended.

Gayle placed an understanding hand on her arm. “Then don’t. Take whatever time you need to feel like your old self again.”

Long after Gayle had gone, Kristen thought about those words. Would she ever feel like her old self again? How could she when she was having difficulty remembering who that person was?

It was true that she’d been through the kind of thing that caused people to reassess their priorities in life. To stop and smell the roses, so to speak. But it was more than that. It was...

It was what? she wondered. Why did she feel so restless? Why did she have periods of weakness even though the doctor had said there was nothing wrong with her physically? Why did she want to cry for no apparent reason? And why could she not stop thinking about Tyler Brant?

TYLER DID NOT HAVE a good day. It shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d had a restless night. When he hadn’t been tossing and turning, he’d slept fitfully, and most of his dreams—none of them pleasant—had involved Brittany.

In each of them, she was out of reach. At the top of an escalator, astride a painted horse on a revolving carousel, in a car speeding away from his home. She would call out to him for help, yet although he could see her, he couldn’t reach her.

They were the nightmares that had haunted him often during the past five years. He didn’t need a therapist to interpret their meaning. He had a fear of losing his daughter. What father didn’t?

That’s why he hadn’t been pleased when his mother had announced that Brittany was going on a field trip with her class. To the Science Museum, of all places. How was one teacher with the help of three parents going to keep track of twenty-two first-graders in a place that big?

He’d been tempted to keep Brittany home from school that morning. The last thing he needed was to spend his day worrying about her getting snatched by some pervert wandering the halls of the Science Museum. He knew his fear was irrational, yet he couldn’t stop himself from imagining all sorts of awful things that could happen to his daughter. It was only when his mother said that she would go along on the trip that he had signed his consent.

Then he’d had a flat tire on the way to work. Not only had he missed his meeting with the director of marketing, he’d had his lunch appointment canceled at the last minute. To top it off, the entire afternoon had been spent with engineers trying to figure out a solution to a mechanical problem that kept automatically shutting down one of the assembly lines.

By the time he arrived home that evening, he was tired and irritable. He wasn’t the only one. Brittany whined her way through dinner, which only confirmed one thing. The trip to the museum had been too much for her. As much as he wanted to tell his mother this, he wisely held his tongue and patiently put up with Brittany’s whining.

When the phone rang shortly after dinner, it was his mother who answered it “It’s Keith Jaxson from the Channel 12 news!” Excitement danced in her eyes. “He wants to speak to you.”

Tyler groaned. Had he known the media were still pursuing that story, he would have let the answering machine take the call. He’d managed to avoid all reporters up to now.

“Yes, this is Tyler Brant,” he said into the receiver.

“Mr. Brant, Keith Jaxson with Channel 12 news. How are you this evening?”

“I’ve been better, Mr. Jaxson.” Tyler could see no reason for social niceties.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I won’t take up much of your time. The reason I’m calling has to do with Kristen Kellar.” He paused as if waiting for Tyler to ask what about her, but he didn’t. There was only dead air, which Keith quickly filled. “Here at Channel 12 news, we all miss her terribly and we’re doing everything we can to help her get back to work as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with me, Mr. Jaxson,” Tyler said.

“I’m sure you’re aware that Kristen has a huge audience here in the Twin Cities—an audience that’s very concerned about how she’s doing. Because they’re so interested, we’d like to do a special report to show just how hard Kristen’s working to recover from the plane crash. What she’s been through is remarkable and the public ought to see just what a strong, determined lady she is.”

“That’s all fine, but I still don’t see what it has to do with me.”

“Why, you’re the reason she’s here to tell her story. It wouldn’t be complete if we didn’t include an interview with the man who saved her life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Tyler stated in no uncertain terms.

“It wouldn’t have to be a long interview, just a brief visit to either your home or office—”

“No.” Tyler cut him off before he could finish.

“You’re a hero, Mr. Brant,” Jaxson reminded him.

“No, I’m a man who works long hours so I can come home to some peace and quiet and not have to worry about the media invading my privacy.”

That silenced Jaxson momentarily. “I apologize for disturbing you. I had hoped that you would want to say a few words about the remarkable courage Kristen has shown, but I see that I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were, Mr. Jaxson. And I would appreciate not being contacted again by your station. I have nothing to say on the subject of the plane crash,” he said with a note of finality that nobody could mistake.

As soon as he’d hung up, Tyler could see that his mother was upset. However, she didn’t say anything to him but went about the business of clearing away the dinner dishes, her mouth tightly set in a grim expression of disapproval. She disappeared into the kitchen only to return a few minutes later. She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a fistful of papers.

“What’s this?” he asked as she dumped the pile in front of him.

“The messages that were on the answering machine when I got home today. Someone from Channel 12 was trying to get ahold of you. I didn’t realize it was Keith Jaxson.”

Tyler didn’t say anything but glanced through the crumpled papers. They were all from Channel 12. Most from a producer named LeeAnn. All said to please call regarding Kristen Kellar.

“They just won’t leave me alone,” he complained, shaking his head in disgust. “When are they going to get it through their thick skulls that I want nothing to do with them?”

Irritation simmered inside him. Maybe if he hadn’t had such a rotten day, he might’ve simply ignored the messages and gone to bed. But he had had a bad day. And he was furious that there were people out there determined to invade what little privacy he had. So he planted a kiss on Brittany’s cheek, reached for his coat and went out to his car. It was time he put an end to this once and for all.

He was no hero.

KRISTEN WATCHED JANEY and Keith on the six o’clock news. Saw the two of them bantering the way she and Keith had bantered in what seemed like an eternity ago. It had been only four weeks, but it was the longest four weeks of Kristen’s life. Janey was a natural. She had the look, and as Kristen was painfully aware, looks were everything in television.

Janey acted as if the anchor desk were hers. So confident, so at ease. With Kristen’s job. With Kristen’s fiance. Kristen knew she should be worried. She wasn’t.

She told herself that if Janey could maintain the ratings while she was on leave, that was all that really mattered. She didn’t want her job back. At least not yet. So why did she feel like she was on the outside looking in?

Maybe Keith was right. Maybe she had had too much time to think. Maybe the only way to get back on the inside was to go back to work.

Maybe not. She tossed a pillow at the television, frustrated with her indecision. She wasn’t happy staying at home recuperating, yet she really didn’t want to return to the newsroom.

When the intercom buzzed from the lobby, she was tempted to ignore the sound. It couldn’t be Keith since he was at the station, and Gayle had a class on Wednesdays. When the buzzing persisted, she hobbled over to the intercom.

“Who is it?” she asked, her voice laced with an impatience she didn’t try to hide.

“Tyler Brant.”

Kristen gulped. Tyler Brant. The man of her dreams. The man she’d been trying to reach for weeks. The man she needed to thank.

“Come on up. I’m number 211.” She pressed the button to open the lobby door.

As she waited for him to arrive, anxiety sent a rush of adrenaline through her body. Why was he here? Did he want to talk about the crash and the impact it had had on his life? Maybe when he read her letter, he had sensed her need to thank him in person for saving her life. Could it be that he needed to talk to her as much as she needed to talk to him?

When he knocked on her door, her mouth went dry. For weeks, she had rehearsed what she would say to him. Now her mind was a blank. Maybe “thank you” was all that was really necessary.

She peered through the peephole and got a shock. The person standing outside her door looked nothing like the man who had rescued her from the icy waters of the river. Gone was the thick, dark beard that had covered his jaw. There was nothing, not even a mustache, to darken the lower portion of his face.

She unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door. Her eyes met his, and she felt an instant connection. They may have spent only a few hours together, but it seemed like so much longer. She’d been right to believe that for the rest of her life she would feel linked to this man in some intangible way.

Instead of saying, “Hello, how are you?” she blurted out, “You’re okay,” as a way of greeting him, then felt ridiculous. Of course he was okay. He was better than okay. He was healthy, virile and looking strong. She needed to explain her inane remark. “In the hospital they told me you had come through everything with only a few minor injuries, but I never got to see you, so I guess I never really believed you were all right.”

He only said, “May I come in?”

His voice was stiff and formal, not at all like the way he’d talked to her after the crash. His eyes were cold and distant.

“Please.” She motioned for him to step inside. “Would you like me to take your jacket?” she asked, leaning on one of the crutches for support.

“No, I’ll keep it, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”

She shivered, wondering what had happened to the man who had talked so tenderly to her after the crash. She hobbled over to the living room. He followed.

“Have a seat,” she said, noticing how disorderly her apartment looked with the pillow and blanket on the sofa, books and magazines scattered across the coffee table, the end tables littered with glasses and empty plates. She started to fold the blanket, then realized there was no point in trying to straighten up the place now. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked as he took a seat on one of the moss-green wing chairs.

“No, thank you.”

He looked around the apartment, his expression revealing nothing of what he was thinking. Kristen was grateful. She didn’t want to see disapproval in his eyes.

Instead of sitting on the sofa across from him, she took the chair next to his. It put him to her right, which meant she could keep her scarred cheek away from his view. As long as she didn’t look him straight in the eye, he wouldn’t notice it. Since leaving the hospital, she had become adept at looking at people from an angle.

And the angle from which she viewed Tyler Brant told her his face was very different from the one she had etched in her memory. She found it fascinating that facial hair could change a man’s image so drastically. Without the beard, he looked much younger. He was also extremely good-looking, something she hadn’t really appreciated before. For four weeks she had thought of him as someone who’d rescued her, not as a man she might be physically attracted to.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” he began.

“I assume it’s because of my letter,” she said almost shyly. Now that she was in the same room with him, she suddenly felt like a character from one of those old adventure movies. And she was afraid that that was exactly how she would sound if she tried to thank him for saving her life. Like some helpless, simpering female gushing over a big, strong, macho man.

She needn’t have worried. He was no superhero, she quickly discovered.

“I wish you hadn’t sent me that letter,” he said, still no emotion in his voice.

To her dismay, she blushed. “I simply wanted to thank you, Mr. Brant,” She shifted uncomfortably on the chair.

“It wasn’t necessary. I did what anyone would have done in my position.”

There was no hint of friendliness in his tone. No softening of the lines on his face, no understanding in those dark eyes. Nothing about him resembled the man who had worked frantically to free her from the plane and carry her to safety. The man sitting next to her could have been a complete stranger instead of the man who had tenderly administered first aid to her wounds.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” she told him.

“You’re entitled to believe what you want, Ms. Kellar.”

Kristen felt as if he had dealt her a blow. Why was he behaving this way? She had thought that when she saw him again it would be a warm, friendly meeting with hugs and smiles. Instead, she was sitting next to him feeling awkward and wishing that he’d leave.

“If you didn’t appreciate my letter, why are you here?” she asked, seeing no point in wasting any more time.

“I think we need to get something straight.”

Kristen’s heart pounded in her throat. “And that is?”

“I’m not going to do any interview regarding the plane crash—not for you and certainly not for your boyfriend. I don’t want him calling my house bothering my family and I won’t tolerate being stalked just so the two of you can improve your ratings.” The words were spoken so quietly Kristen might have thought he wasn’t overly upset. But one look in his eyes told her he was extremely upset.

She swallowed with difficulty, then said, “First of all, I didn’t arrange for anyone to call your house. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not working at Channel 12 at the moment and I have no intention of being a part of any story that has to do with the crash.” She leaned closer to the lamp that separated them. Then she turned her head and pulled the hair away from her cheek. “Do you honestly think I want the world to see this?”

Unlike Keith, Tyler Brant didn’t flinch at the sight of her scarred face. Nor did he look uncomfortable. For the first time since he’d entered her apartment, she saw something other than coldness in his eyes. For several moments, they simply stared at each other without speaking, as if they were once more two people struggling to survive. Kristen was the first to look away.

He was the first to speak. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice sounding more like the one she remembered. At first she thought the apology was meant for her scarred face. But then he added, “I thought you were involved in the TV report. Your name did come up several times,”

“It shouldn’t have,” she said quietly, pulling the hair back down across her cheek. She moved away from the lamp, sitting back in her chair. “Believe me, Mr. Brant, you don’t have to worry about my wanting to do a follow-up story on the plane crash. I have no desire to relive that awful day.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Can I count on you to use your influence with management to stop any plans to the contrary?”

She chuckled sarcastically. “I’m only an anchorwoman.”

“I’ve seen the ratings. You’re very popular in the Twin Cities.”

“That was before this happened.” She was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice and immediately regretted letting him see her self-pity. She reached for her crutches and rose to her feet. “Look, I don’t know if it’ll help, but I’ll talk to my boss at the station. Now if you don’t mind, I’m rather tired. I haven’t recovered my full strength since the crash.” She didn’t look at him but at her crutches as she maneuvered through the maze of furniture in the living room.

“You don’t need to see me to the door,” he told her. “I can find my way out.”

“All right.” She watched him walk away, unable to help noticing his broad shoulders. No wonder she had found such comfort in his arms. Tyler Brant was not a weak man, either mentally or physically.

They didn’t exchange another word. It wasn’t until after Kristen heard the door shut that she sank onto the sofa, laid her head on the pillow and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. Any hope she had been harboring that he felt a connection to her was gone. He was just a guy who had done what he had to do in an emergency situation. Now he wanted to forget it—and her. That much had been evident tonight.

“Some hero,” she muttered to herself, then swallowed back a tear that threatened but never did fall.

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 pin

a 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.”