Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [88]
"How can you say that? The way she behaved-it was awful. Cruel."
"I was with Justin for almost an hour after that. He didn't seem particularly upset."
"You don't know him. He'd never let anyone know he was upset. He handles things without inflicting them on others-which is more than can be said of Phoebe."
Edward ran his hand through his hair (hair that was thinning, Kathryn noted, and flecked with gray; when had that happened?) and took a breath. "I don't want to take sides on this, Kathryn. You and Phoebe have to work out your relationship. You're both adults now and I can't reprimand her as though she were a little girl. This is your issue, not mine." Kathryn stared at him. She felt betrayed, bereft. Old pain bubbled up in her. "You're taking her side, just like always. She's your pet, she has been since she was born. And because you let her get away with everything, she's turned into a thoughtless, ill-mannered brat."
"Kathryn, I want to drop this. I'm sorry you're so aggravated, but I think it will look a lot different in the morning." He reached for the schematics on his desk. "Let's move on to pleasanter subjects. I've spent a very worthwhile hour with Justin, going over these plans, and I'm quite taken with him. He's smart, sensible-and he's tough." His eyes flickered with humor in an attempt to bring levity to the situation. "He'll need that, to be married to you."
But his words pierced her like a stiletto plunging to the bone. Is that what he thought of her? Someone so difficult that a mate required strength in order to endure her? She heard her voice quaver a little as she tried to answer. "He's a very special man, Dad. He's hard to get to know, but once you do, you'll see how remarkable he is."
She realized her father was staring at her with concern, then felt stinging in her eyes. Tears were overflowing the lids, and she swiped at them in embarrassment. "Kathryn-what is it?"
She started to make an excuse, but when she took a breath, it became a gulp of air that triggered a huge sob. And then she broke down, weeping, racked by long, shuddering wails, covering her face with her hands, crouching over in her anguish, tears coating her face. Her father, stricken, rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. He patted her back and whispered, "There, there," over and over, a helpless mantra against this unexpected and frightening demonstration as Kathryn disgorged years of loss and pain: the birthdays, the graduations he'd missed; the months-long absences; his departure from her life-each of those wounds poured from her in an expiation of mucus.
Presently, the sobs abated to an occasional gurgling shudder, and gradually she regained control, able to breathe only through her mouth, eyes swollen and nose stopped. By then, they were sitting on his couch, her head on his chest, where his shirtfront was now wet with her tears, his arms still holding her firmly. He was stroking her hair and making soothing sounds. It felt as good as being four years old again. When every gasp, every shudder, every sob had spent itself, she pulled herself away and went to his desk to get a tissue. Where the aquarium had once sat was a Starfleet console; she realized she didn't remember when the lionfish had been replaced.
Wiping her face, she returned to the couch. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I guess I've been under some stress."
He looked gravely at her, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up. "What is it, Goldenbird?" he asked gently. "What is it, really?"
She struggled with the decision. She'd never complained to him, never let him see her weakness. It was important that he regard her as beyond weakness, someone who wouldn't be a burden to him, or make demands on him, someone strong enough to-
To ignore.
She looked up at him now through scratchy and swollen eyes. "Oh, Daddy, I