Daddy Issues Read online

  But he’d have to deal with that later. Now he had to get to his office and was happy to be on his way. Kathleen’s apartment was a short walk to the campus, and the brisk walk helped clear his head. There was snow in the air. He could smell it, and the clouds above the university clock tower were heavy and gray. He took the stairs in lieu of the elevator, adjusting his tie as he approached the door to the small reception area he shared with department chair Professor Darden. When he entered, he was surprised to see just one person sitting in the row of chairs by the wall.

  He stopped, taking a moment to observe her. She was wearing jeans with badly frayed cuffs, Converse sneakers with mismatched shoestrings, and a faded blue hoodie that was at least a size too large. The hood partially obscured her face, but he could glimpse her profile, her sharp nose and the edges of unruly, too-long bangs. Wires from headphones led from beneath the hood to the iPod in her hand. It was turned up loud; even from across the room he could hear the faint strains of a popular song whose name he couldn’t remember.

  William cleared his throat. When the young woman didn’t look up, he stepped over and gently pulled one of the earphones away. She looked up, obviously startled. Wide blue eyes stared out at him from a pretty, heart-shaped face. Reaching up, she pulled the other earphone out.

  “Hi,” she said.

  William couldn’t help but smile. “Hello.” The young woman had a quirky, befuddled quality about her that was both comedic and endearing. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Um… yeah.” She reached behind her to pick up an oversized bag sitting on the chair next to her. William waited patiently while she fished through. After a moment she turned to hand over the crumpled paper she’d obviously been looking for. “I’m Ellie Brewer. I’m here to find out more about the study?”

  He took the letter, glanced at it, and handed it back. “It looks like you’re the only one, Miss Brewer. I’m Professor William Ashworth. I was hoping we’d have a room full of interested people.”

  She glanced around. “Well, there’s apparently a big snowstorm coming in. People don’t want to go out.”

  “I’ve neglected to listen to the weather.” William pulled off his scarf and overcoat as he spoke. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. It looks wicked out there.” After hanging the coat on a rack by the door, he ushered his visitor down a short hallway and into his office, issuing an apology as they walked for the absence of the receptionist who usually greeted visitors. “She’s probably out making copies or something.” He paused. “Can I get you some coffee, Miss Brewer?”

  “I don’t want to put you to trouble.” They’d entered his small office and she sat in a chair in front of his desk.

  “No trouble at all. I just got one of those handy little coffeemakers for the office. The one with the wee pods…”

  “A Keurig,” she offered helpfully. “We have one of those in the break room at work.”

  “And where is work, if you don’t mind my asking?” He looked back at her from a small table in the corner, where he was making coffee in a mug with the college logo on the side.

  “Costello’s. It’s a club downtown.” She paused. “They, um… they just cut my hours way back and I’m kind of trying to get my own place. And since this is a paying study…” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry.”

  “No need to explain, or to apologize. It’s the only way we can get people to show up sometimes. Sometimes they still don’t show up.” He looked back at her. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Both, please. Extra sugar.” She pointed to her mouth. “Sweet tooth.”

  “As you wish.” William finished fixing the coffee, handed it to Ellie, and took a seat, facing her across his desk. “I only hope you’ll stay once you find out what the study is about.”

  “The letter didn’t say,” Ellie said. “And I am kind of curious.”

  “I’m writing a paper,” William told her. “It’s on the self-esteem of women who were raised without fathers in their lives.”

  The room suddenly fell quiet, and William realized that Ellie was not a person who hid her emotions very well. She’d picked up her coffee but now put it back down. “Oh… okay, then… but I don’t know if this is for me.”

  “Really?” he asked gently. “We aren’t made privy to any personal information, but generally those referred for our studies are recommended because they’d be perfect subjects.”

  “No. I’m far from perfect,” she said. “I’m not perfect for anything, really, but especially not father–daughter stuff.”

  He could sense the tension coming off her in waves; normally a response like hers would be enough for him to excuse a subject. But William suddenly realized he was holding his breath in hopes that she would stay. There was something about her that triggered the latent protective instinct that always lurked beneath his outwardly aloof demeanor. The girl in the childish tennis shoes and scruffy hoodie looked more like a lost waif than an adult, but he knew only adults were referred to the study. He found himself wondering what her story was, and longing to hear it. He folded his hands and placed them on the desk, resisting the sudden urge to reach for her, to hold her in place.

  He softened his voice as he addressed her anew. “I’d like to tell you a little more about it, Miss Brewer.”

  “I’m not sure what you can say,” she said. “This isn’t a topic I’m comfortable with.” She looked at him then, suspicion in her eyes. “Are you absolutely sure Dr. Gruber didn’t tell you anything about my case? Because I know my rights. That information is private…” Her tone was defensive, frightened. William put up his hands.

  “No. I promise you. He did not. I don’t even know Dr. Gruber personally, and wouldn’t know he referred you if you’d not just told me. My offices sent a letter out to a number of healthcare centers, hospitals, counseling services. They tell us nothing, but send information on the studies to people they think may be interested. We have no idea if the people we contact are patients or not, or, if they are, any details of their cases. I can assure you that I’m well aware of all HIPAA laws.”

  She’d relaxed a little, and to William’s relief, remained in her seat. “What’s involved?” Her voice was small and fearful, childlike.

  “Just questions,” he said. “It’s not therapy. I’m not going to dredge up anything you don’t want to address. I know paternal abandonment is a tough issue for women. And a lot of time women end up with shattered self-esteem or a sense of longing because they’re looking for something they can’t even define, something they missed.”

  “Yeah…” she said.

  William fell quiet, looking at the pretty young woman who was now subconsciously massaging her wrist through the too-long sleeve of the worn hoodie. When she caught him looking, she dropped her hands to her lap, and looked around as if confused.

  “Well, thanks for talking to me, but I think this is a wasted trip.” She stood up. “I’m going to have to pass.”

  “Miss Brewer…” William stood, but before he could calm the agitated young woman, she ended the conversation.

  “No.” She picked up her purse by the chair and slung it over her shoulder. “I wish I could, but…” She glanced up at him, and now William saw the sadness in her eyes. “Thanks for the coffee, Professor Ashworth,” she said softly.

  She was out the office door before he could say anything else. He wanted to follow her; to find out why she was so scared and sad, to offer her a chance to talk it out, even if she didn’t want to participate in the study. But he knew that following her would be unprofessional at the very least, so he waited for a moment before heading down the short hallway and back into the lobby. His receptionist was back at her desk, watching a weather report on her desktop.

  “Mrs. Everett, did you see the young woman who just left?”

  “Just the back of her.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  The receptionist shot him a curious glance. “No. She looked like she was in a hurry. Probably trying to get out of he
re before this hits.” She inclined her head toward the monitor and William took a step behind her so he could better view the screen. A split screen showed a swirling mass of clouds and a field of blue indicating snow.

  “Goodness, that developed quickly. I thought they said the storm was supposed to be a day out.”

  “Originally it was, but the winds have shifted and all of this is being blown in from the lake. The university is already cancelling classes for this afternoon until further notice. You should watch the weather once in a while; you might learn something.”

  William nudged the older woman playfully. “Cheeky thing,” he said. “I should fire you for insubordination.”

  “Oh, please do,” she said. “I’ll enjoy my early retirement from my igloo.”

  He chuckled at this, then turned serious. “It does look bad. Why don’t you go ahead and go so you’re not stuck in traffic?”

  “Bless you.” Mrs. Everett stood and then turned to him. “Oh, more bad news. Dr. Kidd called. The reception has apparently been cancelled due to the weather.”

  “That’s only bad news for her,” William said, enjoying the twinkle that came to the receptionist’s eyes. “You know how I hate those things.”

  “Yes,” she sighed, wrapping a scarf carefully over gray hair styled into a tidy French knot. “One of the perks of employment is listening to you bitch about your relationship.” She turned serious. “I suppose you haven’t told her yet?”

  “No,” he said. “But we both know how political this breakup is going to be.” William removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And I fear I’ve only made the situation worse by delaying the inevitable.”

  Mrs. Everett laid a sympathetic hand on William’s arm. “Well, we both know it was only out of concern for the department. She’s always gotten whatever she wants. Remember, I’ve been here a lot longer than you have. If we’d become friends sooner, I’d have warned you to stay away from her. But that British reserve of yours made it hard for me to befriend you in time to save your soul.”

  “Good lord, Mrs. Everett. You make me sound like a lamb led to slaughter.”

  “No comment.” She’d tied her scarf now, and fell quiet. When she spoke again, her tone was serious. “I wouldn’t delay it much longer, if I were you, professor. I’ve seen how Dr. Kidd reacts when something doesn’t go her way. She used to be department head here before she quit to enter private practice. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll take advantage of the snowstorm to call her and break it off. Maybe by the time we’re all back at work from being snowed in, she’ll have calmed down a bit.”

  “Then we’ll pray for an Ice Age,” he said, helping her into her coat. “Do you need me to walk you to your car?”

  “It’s in the parking deck, professor. I think I can manage, even at my age. I’ll see you after the storm.”

  William turned to the window and looked out. The quad was already covered in a dusting of snow. In another hour, the roads would be impassable. But he wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet, anyway. The home he’d been lovingly renovated had become his retreat away from the pressures of his relationship with Kathleen. It was his safe place, largely because she was loath to set foot in it. From the moment she’d seen his traditional decor, she’d announced it old-fashioned and unsuitable, and was already making plans for the house she was already hinting they’d eventually buy together—a grand house with an open floor plan, a view of the city, and shiny metal surfaces. In other words, it would be an upscale version of her apartment.

  William figured it would be several hours before the trains stopped running. So he answered a few emails, went over some tests his teaching assistant had graded, and shelved a few research books that were cluttering his desk.

  The halls were all but deserted by the time he left. Turning up the collar of his overcoat, he ducked his head to avoid the stinging snow as he carefully navigated the steps leading from his building. There were already a few students on the quad braving the weather to scrape together snowballs. But it was bitter cold and he suspected that they’d not be out long.

  He could hear the hum of the trains as he approached the station. Many of William’s friends and colleagues—Kathleen included—questioned his preference for public transportation when he had a perfectly good car. But he’d specifically chosen his old house not just for its historical charm, but also because it was a short walk from the train that ran to and from the university. Despite his reserve with most people, William enjoyed the quiet camaraderie of train rides, where most travelers were usually preoccupied.

  Today was different. There was a lot of chatter, mostly about the weather. People were either frustrated or excited by the forecast. William had just grabbed hold of a strap and was waiting for the train to move when he spotted her.

  It was hard to miss the young woman who’d left his office, even in her nondescript hoodie and jeans. She sat in a seat toward the front of the train, huddled by herself. William wondered if he should approach her. Ellie Brewer’s body language was clearly unreceptive. She’d all but pulled into herself, her hood lowered over her face. She didn’t have the earphones in this time, but she was staring out the window, her expression unmistakably sad.

  The train had started to move when William started navigating toward her, apologizing to passengers as he pushed by. Ellie looked up just as he reached her.

  “Ellie?”

  She sat up straight, her expression wary. “Are… are you following me?”

  He smiled. “No. I’m on my way home.” He usually asked before sitting down, but he didn’t this time. She pulled closer to the window, as if afraid he would touch her. “I would have thought you’d already be home.”

  “I would have been,” she said. “But since I was in the area I decided to put in a couple of job applications. There’s a few coffee shops hiring near the university. You never know.”

  “I’m surprised they’re open in this weather,” he replied.

  “It would be crazy to close them today. It’s so cold; they’ll probably sell more coffee.”

  He smiled at how clever she was. “The Magic Bean is my favorite,” he told her, secretly happy to be engaging her in conversation, even if it was just about coffee. “Excellent lattes.” He paused. “I know the owner. I could put in a word.”

  There was that wary look again. “No. You don’t have to do that.”

  He smiled, and she was about to say something else when the train lurched to a stop. Ellie’s bag was between them and fell to the floor. As she reached for it, the sleeve of her hoodie rode up and in that moment, William saw them—the silvery scars on her wrist. Clutching the bag to her, she hastily pulled the sleeve down and looked over, her expression betraying the embarrassment of someone who’s inadvertently exposed what they’d hoped to keep secret.

  Something about her expression tugged at William’s heart. And at something deeper. He was seized by an almost overwhelming desire to embrace her, to tell her that he would protect her. He spoke before he could stop himself.

  “Let me help you, Ellie,” he said.

  She stood hastily, unease showing on her face.

  Christ, I’ve scared her.

  “I’ve got to go.” She pushed past him, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she ducked out the nearby open door. William noted the sign: Wellington Street. He knew the area—gritty, working-class houses, high crime rate. The station was poorly lit. He wanted to get off the train, to go to her. He wondered how far she’d have to trudge in this weather to get home.

  “Hold the door!” It was an impulsive decision, an instinctive one. He knew if he didn’t follow her he may never see her again. William held his satchel aloft as he pushed his way back through the travelers and out the door. Ellie turned as she saw him and began backing away.

  “Shit. You are following me!”

  “No…” He stopped. “I mean, I wasn’t. But I am now. You can’t walk home in this.”

  “Excus
e me?”

  “It’s horrible out there! How far is your house?”

  She didn’t answer immediately.

  “How far?” His tone carried the weight of authority. For a moment he thought she’d run, and was relieved when she held her ground and pulled her hood back. Her expression had gone from wary to peeved. “About a mile.”

  William just stared for a moment. “So this isn’t even your stop?”

  “No. My stop is King Street. I just wanted to get off.”

  William put his hand on his chest. “Because of me?”

  He waited for her to answer. When she didn’t, he delivered some bad news. “You know this is the last train today. They’re closing the rails because of the weather. You won’t be able to catch another one.”

  “Oh…” Then she glared at him. “Well, neither can you!” Her tone was petulant with an almost adolescent quality. William felt something stir in him, something powerful. He pushed it down inside, focusing on the moment.

  “Good point,” he agreed. “I’ll tell you what. Since this is all technically my fault, I’ll get us a cab. It’ll drop you off at your house and I can get the driver to take me on to mine.”

  “I can’t pay a cabbie,” she said. “Besides, it’s going to be impossible to get a driver with this snow.”

  “Not if you know who to call.” William pulled out his phone. Fifteen quiet minutes later, an SUV manned by an Uber driver was outside.

  “Let’s go,” William said.

  “I told you I could walk,” she said, and he could tell she was suddenly having second thoughts about getting in the cab with him. But he wasn’t taking no for an answer.