Chapter 11

Kate was woken up early the next morning by the ping of her cell phone; rolling over to reach for her phone on the bedside table, she discovered a text message from Rick.

Arrived at LaGuardia, it read. What a lovely seven-hour ride I had! Its magnificence is trumped only by the royal bedhead I have, so I'm going to head home first. I'll drop by with lunch later. Does your dad have any dietary restrictions? Does he like pizza?

Kate texted him a reply on her phone, answering his first question in the conservative negative and his second in the broad affirmative—but tacking on that her father's appetite might vary from day to day—before climbing out of bed. The rug underfoot—the only one in the apartment—was warm; she shivered as she stepped off and her feet touched the cool wooden floor. She dressed quickly but selectively, considering that she did not want Rick to see her in ratty five-year-old T-shirts.

A short-sleeved blouse and a pair of jeans later, she was in the kitchen, cooking up a breakfast for both herself and her father. The man was not up yet: Kate was quickly learning that he slept a lot, fatigued even by the slightest of exertions. She plated up a hard-boiled egg, two lightly fried sausages, and two slices of toast sided by a dollop of jam, before heading into her father's room.

Though tired, her father awoke quickly when his shoulder was shaken. As he struggled to sit up, Kate sank onto the other side of the bed and wondered how to start the conversation.

"Dad," she began slowly, "how much of my conversation with Rick did you hear yesterday?"

Jim Beckett regarded her intently. "Why?" he asked.

"Because…" She cleared her throat, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Well, he's coming here."

"Coming here?"

"Yeah, to the apartment. To, um, to help us out."

"Help us out?"

"Yes, Dad. Stop repeating my words."

Her father seemed to consider that. "Well, then, I have only one question."

"Shoot."

"Is he coming here for you or for me?"

Kate was momentarily rendered speechless by that. "What does it matter?" she asked a moment later, confused.

"Why does it matter," Jim corrected, "and it matters because it makes a difference, then, how I dress. If he's coming here for me, I reckon I can look as sick as I want to. If he's coming here for you, I should dress up—look a bit more presentable for my only daughter's boyfriend.

Kate choked unwittingly on her saliva. "Dad," she half-coughed, half-squeaked, "Dad, he's really not my boyfriend."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "I seem to remember a conversation about marriage yesterday."

"In which I explicitly stated we weren't married!" she pointed out.

"Why would it even come up if you weren't remotely close to it?"

"Because—" Kate spluttered, "—Oh my God, Dad, dress however you want! Rick and I—we aren't—"

"Answer me honestly, Katie," her father interrupted. "Is there something between you and your Rick?"

"He's not my Rick. And why does everybody keep asking me that?" she sniped defensively.

"Because it's relevant," Jim retorted. "On my end, I heard 'drop everything for the next four months', 'I have nothing to offer you', and 'because I wanted you'. It's not a normal conversation you have with friends, Katie-bear—if it is, I suggest you review how you're going about making friends. Now, are you dating him? If you aren't, how close are you to dating him?"

"None of your business," she answered churlishly, angry that he should use something he had eavesdropped on to interrogate her. How dare he?

"Well, it won't be in four months," he snapped back, irreverent towards her anger, and her eyes teared up.

"Dad," she whimpered.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his face instantly contrite. "That was wrong of me. I just … wanted to know."

She wiped her eyes tiredly, and finally relented. "We're … we're drawn, I guess, Rick and I—" she said, fidgeting with the covers beneath her, "—to each other, I mean. We're drawn to each other. But it can't happen."

"Why not?" Jim questioned softly.

"Because it's just not meant to be." Kate shrugged and studied the covers. "Rick, he's … he's crazy amounts of talented."

"Aren't you?" her father pointed out. "The last time I checked, they still give out scholarships only to those with potential."

"I'm book-smart," Kate corrected, "I do well in my studies, but it's not a guarantee that I will do well in life. Besides, I have other priorities that come before Rick, and it's not fair to him if I get involved with him but can't commit 100 per cent."

"You're both in college, Katie," Jim said, sounding highly amused. "It's a given that you're both going to have higher priorities—that doesn't mean it'll always be that way."

"Then we should wait until it is, shouldn't we?"

"I guess it depends," he pondered, "firstly on how you approach the relationship, and then on whether you're both willing to wait."

Kate huffed out a laugh. "Rick finds waiting a minute for an ice-cream the worst kind of torture."

Jim chuckled, as well. "An impatient man."

"But he'd never push me, Dad," she clarified, "and, I think, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I need a push, but he'd never push me into admitting what I really want."

"You're not a trolley, Katherine," her father scolded sternly. "Don't let people push you around. If you want to get somewhere, then you are all the push you need."

She dared to smile cautiously up at him. "Learn that from your counselling sessions?" she teased him fondly.

"Nope." Her father grinned right back. "Just from raising the stubbornest daughter on Earth."

A/N: Well, there we go. Next chapter is where Rick and Kate finally meet up again. I realize these two chapters are short, but they're necessary—a re-establishment of Jim and Kate's father/daughter relationship, if you will. I hope you enjoyed them.

-Soph