Caroline wanted to learn to paint, to live in a world of imagination and fun, like her aunt. Her dad had pressed his lips together at her declaration and given her that unimpressed look he was so good at before informing her she would continue learning to play the piano.
Apparently, spending most of her schooling on the honor roll, winning science fairs, and constantly being praised by her teachers meant nothing if she didn’t have the skillset to be a concert pianist.
“This is where you grew up?” John asked with the same amazed voice he used whenever he learned something new about her.
“Yeah,” Caroline said, lacking his enthusiasm.
He laughed. “I can see you here. Running around the front yard with your hair in pigtails.”
“I wasn’t allowed to run,” she said, looking through his cracked windshield at the brick ranch. “That’s how accidents happen. And I never wore pigtails. Mom thought they were primitive.”
“Primitive? Like cavemen wore them?”
She faced him. “Like uncultured simpletons wore them. Are you sure you want to do this, John?”
His smile returned. “Yeah. I have to meet your parents sometime. We’ve been dating for almost six months, babe. You can’t hide me forever.”
“I’m not trying to hide you. I’m trying to protect you.”
He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, easing some of her anxiety. He had a way of making her feel safe. She didn’t want to lose that, but she couldn’t deny how much she feared he’d run away from her by the end of the evening.
“I’m the cop, remember?” he asked. “I’m the protector here. Come on.”
He opened his door and climbed out. Caroline gnawed at her lip as she waited for him to rush around the front bumper and open the door for her. She’d told him a hundred times she didn’t need him to do that, but John was a gentleman. So he said. She had come to think he insisted on opening her door so he could use the close proximity to steal a kiss. She didn’t complain though. The little things he did made her feel more treasured than she ever had before.
True to his habit, he opened the door, reached in to help her stand, and then planted a kiss on her lips. She smiled and silently hoped he really did love her enough to deal with whatever her parents tossed at him. She’d never brought a boyfriend home before. She’d never had a boyfriend before.
“Shoes off,” she whispered as she closed the front door behind them.
He looked down at the loafers she’d polished for him earlier. He thought she was being nice, but she feared her father would see the scuffs and add it to the list of reasons he’d find to disapprove of John. Appearance was everything to Dennis Stewart. If a man couldn’t take the time to take care of himself, how could he be trusted to take care of anything else?
She skimmed over John’s attire one more time. He had borrowed the sport coat from his father, so it was a bit too large, but Caroline thought that could be overlooked. He wasn’t swimming in the material. She straightened his tie until the knot was centered.
“Come on,” John coaxed, gently nudging her to leave the foyer.
They found her father on the light gray sofa reading the evening paper as scents of meatloaf filled the air. The scene would have been right out of a 1950s TV show if her parents had the capacity to be as nice as Ward and June Cleaver.
“Hi, Dad,” she said tentatively. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I’d like you to meet John.”
Dennis let out one of his big breaths before he even lowered the paper. A deep frown met them when his face became visible, reminding her that her life in this house had never been a lighthearted television show. Her father didn’t even bother trying to smile when he looked at the man standing next to his daughter. John stepped forward and held out his hand, causing Dennis to fold his paper and set it aside.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stewart,” John said.
Caroline couldn’t see John’s face, but she could picture his big smile clearly. The smile that made most people smile in return. John was so kind and approachable. Most people were drawn to him like bees to flowers on a bright spring day. Her father stared at John’s hand as if it were contaminated before standing and puffing out his chest.
Caroline shrank inside, but John stood taller and kept his hand out. No doubt he was asserting his own brand of authority. He was a cop; he knew when someone was trying to intimidate him. He seemed to understand that if he showed weakness, her father would go in for the proverbial kill.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” John said again, more loudly, like someone might do to a person with a hearing impairment. Then he pushed his hand closer to Caroline’s father.
In the most amazing display Caroline had ever witnessed, her father relented. He shook John’s hand briefly.
“Caroline said she was bringing someone to dinner,” Dennis said flatly.
“My name is John Bowman,” he said, as if her father didn’t know.
He did. She’d said she was bringing John to dinner. John Bowman. The man she’d been dating for six months. The man she had come to care about very much.
The fact that her father hadn’t even cracked a hint of a smile wasn’t lost on her. He’d already dismissed John. Already counted him as a lost cause. She didn’t know why she was hurt by his behavior, but her heart ached in a way that was too familiar. She’d disappointed him. Again.
Even though John didn’t seem fazed, she wanted to hug him and tell him he was worthy of her. Despite the way her father was frowning.
“Hello,” Judith said from behind them.
Caroline turned, hoping her mother would be more civil. “Mom, this is John.”
John crossed the room, hand out, and offered her the same proper handshake he’d offered her father. Her mother put on the frozen smile she tended to wear, but at least she’d smiled. However, she held up her hands and showed John the old oven mitts she was wearing. As if she couldn’t remove them to greet him.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stewart,” John said, once again seeming undeterred by the rude welcome he was receiving.
“You too,” she said but then looked over his shoulder at her husband. “Dinner is ready.”
Dennis bypassed John and Caroline to head to the dining room. The fact he hadn’t even acknowledged his daughter wasn’t lost on her. Apparently it wasn’t lost on John either. He put his hand on her shoulder, gave her a squeeze, and nodded for them to follow.
At the table, John pulled a chair out for her like a perfect gentleman. She smiled her thanks and glanced at her mother, hoping to see her approval for John’s behavior. Judith hadn’t noticed. Her focus on the meatloaf exceeded what was necessary. Caroline got the message loud and clear. John wasn’t welcome, and they were irritated with her for forcing them to entertain him.
Judith served dinner—Dennis first, then Caroline, and then she handed a plate to John—with a somber expression.
“This looks delicious,” John said. “Thank you for inviting me to join you.”
“Caroline invited you,” Dennis clarified, causing his daughter’s heart to drop.
The tension around the table went up about three notches, and Caroline’s stomach twisted so tightly she couldn’t possibly eat.