Authors: Dallas Schulze
"Was it your father?" he asked finally. She said nothing, staring at the blankets, her jaw set Dan reined in his exasperation, reminding himself that she'd probably had enough of people bullying her. The important thing was that she was safe and relatively unhurt The fact that he wanted to get his hands on the man who'd beaten her was not really all that important
"Okay." The bed shifted as he stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I won't ask any more questions. If and when you feel like talking about it, we'll talk."
She cast him a wary look from under her lashes, as if wondering if he was really going to drop the subject He met her gaze openly, doing his best to look reasonable and non-threatening. It wasn't a look he'd ever really tried for before, but he must have managed at least a reasonable facsimile because some of the wariness faded from her eyes.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, very solemnly.
It was worth controlling his desire for vengeance to see something approaching a smile flicker across Kelly's face. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her smile much. Even on the night they'd met, she hadn't smiled a whole lot Or was it just that he'd been so wrapped in his own problems that he hadn't noticed?
"I guess you'd like a chance to clean up," he suggested.
"That would be nice," she said, that shy near-smile flickering over her face again.
"The bathroom is next door." He hesitated, frowning. "Can you manage? I could help you."
"No. Thanks," she added, trying to soften the abrupt refusal. "I'm fine, really. Or close enough," she amended when he gave her a doubtful look.
"Well, if you need me I'll be within yelling distance," he said, as much to reassure himself as her, she thought He went to the closet and pulled out a gray flannel shirt and a pair of jeans.
"These are going to be a lousy fit, but if you knot a belt around the jeans they should stay up." He spoke over his shoulder as he was digging through a drawer. "We'll have to do some shopping when you're feeling better. Get you some clothes."
"I don't need anything." Pride made her speak before she had a chance to think.
Dan turned from the dresser, a pair of thick white socks and a terry-cloth robe in his hand. He glanced at the chair where her clothes lay and then looked at her, raising one brow in silent comment.
Kelly followed his look. Her dress and coat lay tossed over a chair, somehow looking even more tattered and worn in the bright sunshine that spilled across them. Devlin's old boots lay on their sides beneath the chair, the only warm shoes she'd been able to find. Her flush was slow and painful.
"Don't make an issue out of it," Dan said quietly. "The deal was that I'd take care of you, support you, right? Well, clothes are part of that." He didn't seem to expect an answer, which was just as well. Kelly didn't think she could have said anything to save her soul.
Dan tossed the clothes on the foot of the bed. "You can use the belt out of the robe to tie up the jeans. Take your time and call if you need me. I'm going to heat up some soup."
❧
Kelly watched him leave, waiting a moment to make sure he was really gone before she pushed back the covers and stood. She inhaled sharply as her bruised body protested the movement. Moving cautiously, she discovered that everything worked, if under protest.
With the robe wrapped around her and dragging on the floor behind her, she crept out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. Half an hour later, a warm shower and some ruthless work with the comb Dan had left out for her, she felt almost human.
After a few horrified moments staring at her reflection, she avoided the mirror. The bruises would fade, she told herself firmly. Besides, what difference did it make what she looked like? There was no one to care. Dan might be concerned but that was only because he wanted the child she carried.
The deal was... A deal. That's what they had. Her baby in exchange for escape for them both. She closed her eyes, setting her hand over her stomach. She'd tried so hard to divorce herself from the life she carried. But yesterday, when her father had come at her with such mad rage in his eyes, her first thought had been to protect the baby.
Kelly drew in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she opened her eyes. She'd struck a deal with Dan. A deal that was going to provide a future for her child and for herself. This was the best thing for both of them. It might not be easy, but most things in life that were truly worthwhile weren't easy.
This was the right thing to do. She had to believe that with all her heart. She didn't dare believe anything else.
Her nose led her to the kitchen, though it wouldn't have been difficult to find even without the warm scent of soup drifting out. Dan's apartment was not large. One bedroom, one bath, a fairly large living room and a kitchen with an alcove that functioned as a dining room.
Dan was standing at the stove, stirring the soup. It seemed odd to her to see a man doing such a domestic task. She couldn't ever remember seeing her father doing anything in the kitchen except possibly washing his hands. Cooking was a woman's rightful job, he always said, making it sound like a divine law.
Sensing her presence, Dan glanced over his shoulder. Kelly fought the urge to duck back around the corner.
"You're just in time for some of my world-famous soup," he said casually. "Have a seat. It'll be done in a minute."
He turned, leaning one hip against the counter as she shuffled farther into the room, her gait limited by the need to keep the thick white socks from drooping off her feet.
"How do you feel?"
"Better, thank you. I guess I look pretty awful."
"Well, the clothes are a little large," he said honestly.
"I meant this." She lifted one hand to her face, half covering the bruises that surrounded her eye.
"It'll heal." In a way, it was comforting to see the glint of anger in his eyes and know that it was on her behalf. She couldn't remember anyone ever being angry for her, unless maybe it was her brother, Devlin. But he'd been gone such a long time.
"Are you hungry?" Dan asked, turning to take a bowl from the cupboard.
"I don't know. I guess so." She eased onto one of the plain oak chairs.
"Well, I'm not much of a cook but I open a mean can." He set a bowl of soup in front of her and a plate containing a slice of buttered bread. "Eat up."
"Thank you." She picked up the spoon more out of politeness than hunger, but after a mouthful or two hunger stirred to life. She pushed back her sleeve as she reached for the bread, biting into it with relish.
Dan watched from the kitchen, feeling a smug satisfaction. He wondered how long it had been since she'd had a decent meal. Much too long, he'd be willing to bet. She was too thin, especially for someone carrying a baby. She needed some fattening up.
The fact that she was swallowed up by his clothes only emphasized her slightness. The shirt covered her almost to her knees and he could only imagine how she'd had to gather the waist of the jeans to keep them up. She shoved the sleeve back again when it threatened to droop over her hand. Tossing down the dish towel, he crossed to the table.
"Here. Let me roll those up for you." He waited until she'd looked up at him before holding out his hand for her arm. She hesitated a moment and then slowly lifted her arm so that he could reach the sleeve. She'd tried to roll it up but, one-handed, she hadn't been able to do a very thorough job.
Dan rolled the sleeve with a few deft motions, his mouth tightening when he caught sight of bruises he hadn't seen before on the inside of her lower arm. He said nothing, only lowered that arm and reached for the other.
"Thank you," she murmured when he'd finished.
"Shall I do the jeans, too? You're going to trip if you leave the legs dragging like that."
Wordlessly she turned sideways in the chair. Dan knelt at her feet, reaching for the clumsy roll of denim at her ankle.
"I guess I didn't do a very good job," she said. "It hurt a little to bend over."
Dan snapped the newly formed cuff tight with a quick gesture that made Kelly jump.
"Why won't you tell me who did this to you?" he asked, lifting his head, his blue eyes bright with anger.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because he shouldn't get away with this. No one should get away with something like this. Not even a father—especially not a father. It was your father, wasn't it?"
Kelly hesitated, lowering her eyes to where her hands twisted in her lap. "I don't want to think about it I don't want to have to talk to the police and doctors. I don't want strangers reading about me in die newspaper and talking about me. I just want to forget."
Dan covered both her hands with one of his. She started and would have pulled away but he refused to let her.
"Kelly, what he did was wrong. Whoever he is, he had no right to hurt you. Do you think he did have a right? Do you think you did something to deserve this?"
She stared at his hand covering hers, her thoughts tangled. No, she didn't believe she'd done anything to deserve what had happened. And yet she kept hearing her father's voice saying that she had sinned, that she had to be punished.
"What I did was wrong," she whispered at last.
Dan's hand tightened over hers. "Is that why he beat you? Because of the baby?"
"Yes." The word was almost inaudible but it carried the impact of a sledgehammer blow. Dan felt it actually drive the breath from his lungs. He'd known it all along, but he'd had to hear her confirm it.
"Was it your father?"
There was a long moment where he thought she might refuse to answer and then she nodded slowly. Dan swallowed hard. He could deal with his own rage and guilt later. Right now what mattered was making Kelly see that none of this was her fault, that she had no reason to blame herself.
"What we did was irresponsible and foolish. If there's any punishment to be meted out, it should have been mine. I shouldn't have brought you here in the first place, but once I did I had no business being careless. I, of all people, should know enough to take precautions."
He was silent for a moment, seemingly looking inward at things she couldn't see. He shook himself, his eyes focusing sharp and bright on hers.
"Don't you ever think that any of this was your fault. Or that you deserved what your father did. We made a mistake but what he did was flat wrong. The fact that he's your father doesn't give him the right to hurt you, no matter what you've done. Understand?"
His eyes held hers until she nodded. He squeezed her hands before releasing them and standing. "Your soup's getting cold."
Kelly turned back to the table, picking up her spoon automatically. "You won't try to—do anything about this, will you?" She stared at the table, counting her heartbeats while she waited for his answer.
"Not if you don't want me to," he said at last.
"Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," he said roughly. "It's my fault you're in this situation to start with."
Kelly stirred her spoon through the soup, watching the patterns created in the broth. She would love to be able to lay the blame squarely on someone else's shoulders but that wasn't really fair.
"You didn't force me," she said quietly, not looking at him.
Dan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking at her bent head. "How old did you say you were?"
The seemingly irrelevant question startled her into looking up at him. "Eighteen. Why?"
"You're sure as hell not like any eighteen-year-old I've ever known. Sometimes you seem older than I am. Don't you want to get mad at me? Throw things, call me names?''
"What good would that do?"
"It would make me feel better," he muttered.
The answer was so illogical but so understandable that Kelly smiled, wincing when the movement pulled at the cut on her mouth. She pressed her fingers to her lip.
Dan smiled with her, though his eyes held a darker look. Looking up at him, Kelly was suddenly reminded of the first time she'd seen him, the way the lights in the bar had caught in the gold of his hair, the way his eyes had seemed as blue as a summer sky.
She looked down, fingering her spoon. She didn't like to remember the good things about the night. It seemed safer to forget them. If she remembered too much, she might forget the reason she was here, she might forget the reason he was being so nice to her.
His only interest was the baby she carried. It could be disastrous if she ever let herself forget that.
The waiting room looked more like a parlor than a doctor's office. The sofas would have fit neatly into any den and the end tables spilled over with luxuriant houseplants. There were four women seated in the room, all in various stages of pregnancy. Four women and Dan.
The nurse had called Kelly into Dr. Linden's office ages ago. Dan hadn't felt out of place while Kelly was with him, but after she left he felt as if he'd somehow grown too many arms and legs. He felt overgrown and gangly in a room scaled for women. The sofa was too low to the floor or his legs were too long. He seemed to take up too much room. He felt conspicuous, as if everyone was wondering what he was doing there.