Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The blur of movement happened so quickly, Victoria wasn’t positive she actually saw it.
She stopped and peered into the shadows near the entrance to the building that held condominiums.
Was that the outline of…a person? Tucked in the corner by the doorway?
She didn’t breathe. She couldn’t be sure it was a person. It was so dark there.
But fear spiked through her.
Lord, please keep me safe. If there is real danger, if there’s someone there, please protect me. I know You can do all things in Your power.
The prayer filtered courage through her, combating some of the fear and clearing her mind.
Should she stay facing the person, if there was one there?
Or should she make a break for her car? It was close now.
A noise broke the silence. The door started to open from the inside.
The shadow moved, darted out from behind the door as it fully opened. A person—a man, it looked like—dressed all in black, seemed to slither along the wall and quickly disappeared into another dark crevice.
Laughter yanked her attention to two well-dressed men in their twenties who emerged from the building, evidently unaware they’d spooked a lurker.
If a lurker was all he was.
Victoria tried to breathe as she hurried toward her car.
The two young men followed behind her at a normal distance, talking and laughing, like an added assurance from the Lord that she was safe now. He had answered her prayer and protected her.
Thank you, Lord.
But despite her gratitude and silent prayer, she felt as if she didn’t breathe again until she’d driven away, leaving that section of the city and the dark phantom far behind.
By the time she drove into the gated community she’d grown up in and pulled up to her childhood home, blood was circulating through her normally, and her pulse had calmed to a healthy range.
The car heater blasted physical comfort while her prayers of thanks in her conversation with God all the way there had strengthened her inwardly.
She couldn’t be more grateful for His protection and presence with her this evening. She had called Treese to warn her about the phantom man in case he was still lurking in the area when she left her studio. But Treese had said she wasn’t going to be leaving alone anyway, so she was fine.
Victoria indulged in an exasperated sigh at no one as she reached for her purse on the passenger seat. Fine being a relative term, considering Treese was apparently going to have another fling with a man she’d only just met.
But Victoria wasn’t at her father’s to discuss Treese. Hank was no doubt the person on the topic list in Dad’s mind, and Victoria should be gearing up to address that situation and maintain peace between the two.
She checked the clock in the dash. Two minutes. Cutting it much too close.
She leaned over to look in the rearview mirror and smoothed some flyaway hairs and a loose strand that had escaped her bun. Dad would wonder about her if she appeared a mess.
She hurried to the front entrance and reached to insert her key in the lock, but the large door swung open.
Hank’s tentative smile greeted her. “Hey.” He opened the door the rest of the way and stepped aside to let her in.
“Hi.” She closed the door behind her, then looked at her brother.
He slid his hand through his blond curls as he always did when he was nervous. “He wants to talk to you about me, doesn’t he?”
“I assume so.” She gently squeezed Hank’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It will be fine.”
“Okay.” He managed another shaky smile. “Thanks, Vicki.”
“I need to go in.”
He nodded.
She walked briskly from the entryway into a long hallway, her boots clicking on the tiled floor. Like the sound of the man who’d followed her tonight. He must have worn dress shoes to make such a sound. Wasn’t that odd for someone who—
No. She needed to focus on her father and making peace between him and Hank.
She stopped in front of the closed door to his office library on the left. She knocked.
“Enter.” Her father’s familiar voice reached through the heavy wood.
She opened the door and walked in. Hopefully, he wouldn’t make a point of her being one minute late. She was never late.
He looked up from his massive wooden desk as she entered, his short auburn hair as neat and tidy as always, and his expression serious and observant. He never seemed to change. Except for the tiny, silver flecks of hair that caught the light, suggesting that even he was aging.
“You’ve had a busy day.”
Her stomach clenched as she stopped in front of his desk, waiting to discover what he meant by that comment.
He looked at his wristwatch and then directed his gaze to her, his eyes angling toward her hair.
She reached up, her fingers touching a loose clump she must have missed in the darkness of the car. And he wasn’t going to let the one minute of tardiness go. Not a wonderful start for Hank’s sake, but there was always some critique to overcome.
“I came directly from Treese’s Pilates class.” Supporting Treese’s business should earn her a few grace points. “I must have mussed my hair when I changed, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by leaving early, of course.”
He leaned back in his chair and pointed with his whole hand to the chair that faced the front of his desk.
She removed her coat and hung it over the back of the chair, then smoothed her skirt beneath her as she sat.
“Henry, Jr., is confused.” Her father’s hazel eyes, sharpened by his intensity, locked on her. “I’ve talked to the boy, but he’s been rattled and forced off course by what happened to your sister.”
Victoria nodded. She took his pause as her queue to speak. “What happened to Spring has affected all of us deeply. We all need time to process it in our different ways.”
Her father arched an eyebrow. “You’re not throwing away your career.”
She pressed her lips together, taking a moment to consider her next words and check her approach against her model—her mother’s peacemaking technique.
She would show sympathy for both parties, try to help their father understand his child, but then conclude with a positive assurance that all would work out in favor of their father.
“No, I’m not. But Hank hasn’t done so either.
He’s young and hasn’t yet begun his career.
He feels great compassion for Spring and others in need.
He’ll find his way once his emotions settle down. ”
Her father leaned forward, planting his forearms on the desk and bringing his hands together as he stared at her. “Neurosurgeons don’t make decisions based on emotion, and youth is absolutely no excuse. I never deviated. Robert never wavered from his goals, even as a child.”
Victoria held back the urge to point out that Robert’s goals had been his own, not his father’s.
Though they had, thankfully, aligned with what Dad wanted him to do—excel as a medical doctor of some kind.
Robert had also set an incredibly high bar when he’d graduated high school at fifteen.
It wasn’t fair to hold Hank to the same standard.
“We aren’t all identical, so our paths may look different.
But I know Hank wants to make you proud.
He worked very hard to graduate a semester early from Harvard and be accepted into Johns Hopkins for next fall. ”
Graduating from college early may have been a mistake, given how much time Hank now had on his hands to ponder and doubt his future. But Victoria kept that observation to herself. The point was to remind Dad of Hank’s accomplishments.
“He cannot end up like Spring.”
They both knew her father didn’t mean paralyzed from the waist down. He meant Spring’s rejection of his aspirations for her, that she had become a professional cyclist and was now pursuing a teaching degree.
“I will not allow that to happen to Henry, Jr. Is that understood?” Her father pinned Victoria with the look of warning that used to send fear shooting down to her toes.
Now it only twisted her stomach and dried her mouth as she nodded. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t believe there’s any cause for concern. I’ve spoken with him, and he’s no longer considering physiatry.”
Her father’s shoulders visibly lowered, and his glowering expression lessened a fraction. “Good.”
She wouldn’t mention that Hank was pondering pediatrics now. Hopefully, that was only temporary, and he would soon return to his goal of becoming the neurosurgeon their father had planned he would be since Hank was born.
“I’ll continue to guide him through this time of upheaval.” She infused her tone with confidence. “He’ll be fine.”
“He can’t throw away his talent and his future. I won’t let him do that.”
She nodded. “I know. He won’t. I’ll make sure of it. He respects you too much to….” she almost said hurt you, but that would suggest a vulnerability her father wouldn’t appreciate her assuming he had, “…disregard your advice.”
“You had better be right. I’ve invested too much in that boy’s future to watch him throw it away for nothing. He’ll thank me for it in the end.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Victoria didn’t want Hank to regret any of his decisions either. And decisions made in the midst of confusion and emotion where almost always regrettable. She had firsthand knowledge of that.
“Good. I’ll trust you to take care of it then.” He lowered his gaze to the thick hardcover book lying on the desk in front of him.
They were apparently done. She let out a breath slowly enough not to be heard and stood. “I wanted to confirm the time for your birthday dinner next Tuesday. Is eight o’clock the best?”
“Birthday dinner?” He didn’t lift his head from the book.
And Victoria knew why. She heard it in his voice—the subtle shift she’d only learned to recognize after Mom was gone. The reason he hadn’t met Victoria’s gaze for months after Mom’s passing.
“Yes. Eight p.m. sharp.” He’d regulated his voice to his normal firm, no-nonsense tone, and he still didn’t lift his gaze.