Chapter Sixteen #3
She blinked and wondered if this was a test. With a quick sniff of the dining room, she couldn’t distinguish which chair belonged to whom.
No chair seemed more worn than the other.
There was no hint to tell her which belonged to her father, so she took the risk and sat in the chair most familiar to her.
“How did you sleep?” Stacy asked over the sizzle of the frying pan.
“Fine. The mattress is comfortable.”
Kimberly and Stacy talked about the guest bedroom, where the furniture came from, and the decor inspiration.
She was careful to keep all of her comments positive, knowing her father detested negativity or criticism, except when it came from him.
Patrick stayed quiet and finished making the French toast right about the time the kettle whistled.
Afraid to upset her father by letting the kettle scream for too long, Kimberly braced herself to stand, moving as if a fire had sparked on the stove instead.
Patrick shot out his hand in a muted command for her to freeze, then picked up the kettle himself.
Kimberly froze, half hunched as he moved toward the mug she previously prepared with a bag of breakfast tea near the sink.
She watched him pour the steaming water and set the kettle aside on a cloth trivet.
She dropped back into her chair and took the steaming tea from her father when he offered it.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Too many feelings softened her voice to a near whisper.
Patrick said nothing, only turned and brought the two plates of French toast to the table.
One for her and one for him. Stacy made a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries.
She joined them with a glass of orange juice and brought Patrick’s coffee to him.
No one picked up a utensil until all three were seated.
Patrick and Stacy started discussing their plans for the day. Her father had business on the farm, and Stacy had errands in town. They talked as if it were any regular day instead of something straight out of the Twilight Zone.
“You’re welcome to join me, honey,” Stacy told Kimberly. “Unless you want to take the day for yourself.”
Like dusting off an old reflex, Kimberly turned to Patrick, waiting for him to interject his own thoughts on how his daughter should spend her free time. He said nothing and didn’t even look up from his food.
She had enough of this. “What’s going on?”
Her parents looked up, confused.
“What do you mean?” Stacy asked.
“Dad is … not Dad.”
Realization shone in their eyes, and Stacy watched her husband, letting him take the lead.
“It’s been a long time, Kimberly.” His voice dropped. “I’m not the same man you might remember.”
Stacy reached over and touched her husband’s arm. “Why don’t you two take your breakfast out on the porch and talk? Or better yet…” She stood with her oatmeal, “I’ll go. It’ll be less messy with the syrup.”
Kimberly and Patrick both made noises of helpless disapproval, but Stacy didn’t hesitate. She walked down the hall with her bowl of oatmeal and the back door shut behind her.
Father and daughter looked at one another, but Kimberly would not be the first to speak or pepper him with the questions that hung in the air. If he wasn’t the same man, let him prove it.
Patrick pushed away his plate and folded his big hands on the table, powerful fingers laced together.
“Your mom told me a little of what you two talked about last night.” His throat worked through some nameless emotion.
“I’m still processing that, but I get the feeling that …
that I made some changes to my life a little … a lot too late.”
Kimberly sat back against her chair. Her father never looked so embarrassed or demonstrative.
“When you turned, and we found out that you had no dominance, I didn’t take it well.”
“You were ashamed of me.”
Ten years ago, that kind of talk might have gotten her smacked into next Tuesday.
Instead, her father just shook his head. “No. I was afraid for you. I thought a shifter with no dominance would be so vulnerable that they could never live on their own or be separated from a pack because they would be taken advantage of.”
“And you were right.”
His eyes darkened. “No, I was not. That’s just what I taught you to believe because I was scared.
I wanted you to take every precaution to keep yourself safe.
I wanted you to never know what it was like to be alone, so I made you believe you had to be part of a pack to survive.
I told you that shifters might try to use your lack of dominance against you.
I tried to make you feel weak and submissive so that you would always seek protection from other people.
” Patrick’s eyes softly shone. “I couldn’t stand the thought of my baby girl getting hurt, so I did things, said things, that were not right so that you would never even remotely allow yourself to be put in a position to be hurt … Do you understand me?”
Kimberly couldn’t bear to see her father, always so strong and sure of himself, nearly break down at the dinner table in front of a plate of French toast.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to understand. “But … what does that have to do with putting the kettle on the stove for me and helping Mom with breakfast? It’s all very … not dominant, not alpha behavior, and that’s never been you, even before I turned.”