Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [38]
"That promise was made a long time ago. I need to do something. I need this."
"You can't have this," she hissed, dropping her voice down a notch as she realized they were still the center of attention. "Pick something else. Find yourself another hobby. Take up flying. Join the circus. I don't care what you do, as long as you don't race."
He paled, but his eyes had a steel glint in them, a glint she remembered all too well.
"I'm still your father. You don't talk to me like that."
"You haven't been my father for a long time." The words struck him hard. She could tell by the sudden catch of his breath. But she didn't regret them. He'd promised. And now he was breaking that promise, like he'd broken so many others. "Why can't you just do this for me?" she pleaded. "We went through so much ..."
"I need to race again. It's important to me. I'm dying inside," He put his hand to his heart in yet another dramatic gesture. "I need to be on the water. I need to feel the wind in my hair, the ocean spray on my face."
"You don't need to race to feel those things. You can just go for a sail."
"I need the excitement, the rush, the speed, the power." For the first time in a long while his eyes were clear and purposeful, instead of dull and vague. He'd come alive. "Ah, Katie girl, aren't you tired of dragging me out of bars?"
It was the first time he'd ever acknowledged that she did that.
"I can't go on like I've been going on," he continued. "If I could get out there on the ocean, see the distant horizon, the endless possibilities in front of me, I could breathe again. Haven't I paid enough penance, Katie, or will you be leaving me in purgatory forever?"
"I'm not your jailer. That's your conscience. Or maybe you don't have a conscience. Because if you did, you wouldn't break your promise. You wouldn't race again." She scrambled off her bar stool, her eyes blurring with angry tears. "Do what you want. You always have, and you always will."
Kate hurried out of the bar, wanting to put as much distance between her father and herself as she could. She threw open the door to the restaurant and ran smack into Tyler.
He caught her by the arm. "Kate? What's wrong?"
"You're late," she cried, a little more loudly and more vehemently than was necessary.
His gaze narrowed. "And you're angry," he said slowly. "But I don't think it's at me."
She pulled away from him. "I'm tired, and I'm going home." She headed down the stairs to the parking lot. She fumbled with her keys as she reached her car, dropping them on the ground in her haste to get away.
Tyler picked them up before she could move. "You're not going anywhere until you can see straight," he said.
"I'm fine."
"You're furious. I'm sorry I was late."
"It doesn't matter."
"Tell me what's wrong. I can't imagine my tardiness would piss you off this much."
"I've had it with lies. I've had it with people making promises that they have no intention of keeping. And no one changes. People say they'll change, but they don't. So I give up. I quit. I'm throwing in the towel, putting up the white flag."
"Are you finished?" he asked gently as she ran out of steam.
She frowned. "I don't know yet." She drew in a deep breath. "Sorry, that wasn't about you. It was about my father. He drives me crazy."
Tyler nodded in understanding. "What did he do?"
"He's in there having a meeting." She tipped her head toward the restaurant. "He's trying to get back into racing. Someone actually wants him on his boat."
"Why is that surprising, given your father's track record? From what I've read about him, he was an amazing sailor. I think one of the sailing magazines called him a genius at working the sails, at taking the best advantage of the wind."
She suddenly realized who she was talking to. "He's too old to race," she said, which was only part of the truth. "And that genius quote probably came from my father."
"But he was good, wasn't he?"