She saw the flicker of disapproval he couldn’t quite hide, but she had to admire the way he refrained from uttering the slightest word of criticism. By this she judged how anxious he was to repair their relationship.
“Please, sit down,” her mother said too brightly. “I’ll ring for tea.”
Sarah sat in the chair beside her father, amazed at how her hands ached after he released them. He’d been clinging so tightly he’d almost bruised them.
They chatted about the weather and Sarah’s trip uptown-her father was probably horrified that she’d taken the elevated train, but he managed not to betray it-until the maid had finished serving and left them alone.
When the door closed behind her, an awkward silence fell. They all knew someone must say something, something momentous, but no one knew quite what that something should be. Perhaps her father thought she should apologize for abandoning them, but she wasn’t going to do that. She had been the one offended and felt that she was the one due an apology. She couldn’t imagine her father would offer one, however. As far as she knew, he had never apologized for anything in his life. To do so would be to admit he had been wrong, and he probably believed he never had been.
Unable to think of anything appropriate, Sarah sat silent. Sooner or later her father would say what he wanted her to hear. She was prepared for anything. Or at least she thought she was until he said, “We’ve missed you, Sarah.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said quite honestly. Although she had friends and a profession that fulfilled her, nothing and no one could take the place of family. Not even a family who had hurt each other as much as hers had.
“Your father regrets… we both regret,” her mother quickly amended when he gave her a sharp glance, “the harsh words that were spoken after poor Tom…”
“I’m sure we all regret that,” Sarah said quickly, coming to her mother’s rescue. Had her father asked her mother to apologize for him? No, she realized, judging his expression. His impatience was evident.
“I still believe no respectable woman should live alone and earn her own living,” he said, confirming her theory.
Oddly, she found his statement reassuring. He hadn’t changed. And if he was still the same, as infuriating as he might be, she knew exactly how to deal with him.
“I know you don’t understand the choices I’ve made,” she allowed him. “But the fact is, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need your blessing to live my life the way I see fit”
His lips tightened a bit. He wasn’t used to such resistance, certainly not from a female and his own child. Her mother, she knew, resisted him frequently, but she used feminine wiles and charm to soften the blow. Sarah had no skill and certainly no patience for such wiles.
But to his credit, her father chose not to argue. Instead he said, “You’ve always had a mind of your own, Sarah. You’re very like me in that respect.”
“Too much like you, perhaps,” she allowed with a small smile.
“Yes, but it’s less… acceptable in a female.”
“To some people,” Sarah allowed, proving his point by arguing with it.
“And always to a father,” he countered.
She conceded. “I never intended to let so much time pass with matters unsettled between us, but before I knew it, three years had gone by. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Nor I,” he agreed. Did he look relieved at her willingness to take the blame? She hoped so.
“I should have been more understanding,” she allowed, taking even more blame. “I realize now that you were only concerned about my well-being.”
Her father was prepared to be equally gracious. “And we probably should have given you some time to get over Dr. Brandt’s death before discussing the future with you.”
“If you had, you might have understood that no discussion was necessary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Or you might simply be too proud to accept the help we were offering you,” he suggested.
She was right. He hadn’t changed a bit. “I didn’t need help then, and I don’t need it now, Father. I know it’s difficuft for you to imagine, but I manage my own life quite well. Not every woman needs a man to take care of her.”
Instantly, she regretted her hasty words. With them, she had insulted her mother. Fortunately, her mother didn’t seem to realize it.
“I’m sure your father was only trying to protect you from any more unpleasantness,” she said.
“But I don’t want to be protected from it,” Sarah explained, hoping she could maintain her reasonable tone in the face of such ignorance. “I want to face it head-on and do something to change it.”
Her mother glanced at her father apprehensively, obviously afraid Sarah had incensed him. In times past, she had done so with far less provocation. But her father was no longer so quick to anger. Or at least he was trying harder to be reasonable today than ever before.
“That’s foolish idealism, Sarah. You can’t change the way things are, no matter how much you might wish to. The world has been a wicked place since Cain killed Abel, and since then people have simply refined the ways in which they harm each other. One woman can’t possibly make a difference.”
Sarah could have told him how she had made a difference by solving the murder of Alicia VanDamm. She could have told him of the lives she had saved, mothers and babies who would never have survived without her skill. Instead she said, “Are you suggesting I should stop trying?”
She could see the battle he fought with himself. He was used to ordering and demanding and being obeyed instantly. No one challenged him, no one questioned him, not the people who worked for him or the people with whom he did business or anyone in his household. No one except Sarah, that is.
Her mother placed a hand on his sleeve, as if the gesture would restrain him. But he didn’t even seem to notice. He was too intent on Sarah, who met his gaze levelly, without flinching.
“I am suggesting,” he said when he was in control of his temper again, “that there is no need for a woman of your position in life to waste that life toiling for common people.”
She could have said many things. She could have pointed out that women of the upper class wasted their lives every day, squandering their talents and intelligence on visits and gossip and parties and balls. But saying so would not have convinced her father and would have hurt her mother. Her father believed that women should engage only in socially acceptable activities, and he wasn’t going to change his mind in one afternoon.
“Father, I know you don’t approve of how I spend my life, but you must also know I have no intention of doing anything else. If we are going to make peace between us, we are each going to have to respect the other’s opinions, whether we agree or not.”
Her father stared at her for a long moment, his eyes sad. “This is what it’s come to, is it? You’ve lost all trace of femininity, Sarah. You reason just like a man now.”
He hadn’t meant to compliment her, but Sarah felt flattered all the same. “Men have all the advantages in life, Father. If I’ve adopted masculine ways, it’s only because I had no choice.”
“You have a choice. You can come home and let us take care of you again.”
Now it was Sarah’s turn to be sad. “I’m afraid you’d regret your invitation very quickly if I took you up on it, Father. I’m not the biddable young girl you remember.”
“You were never biddable, Sarah,” he reminded her sharply.
“Well, I’m even worse now. I’ve lived on my own far too long to be able to be your daughter again.”
“But what about your reputation?” His anger was showing again. “How do you ever expect to find a suitable husband if you insist on running around the city like a… a…”
“A common trollop?” she supplied helpfully, recalling what he had said to her that awful day after Tom’s funeral.