Daddy Issues

by Ava Sinclair

  “Well, that went well.” He’d walked up to his receptionist’s desk to find that Mrs. Everett was already across the room on her way to retrieve the fallen picture.

  “I don’t even have to ask how she took it,” she chuckled. “I swear I think I saw smoke coming out of her ears.”

  “Yes, it’s a tough business, not getting your way when you’re used to it.” William walked over and helped Mrs. Everett straighten the picture before walking back to her desk and pulling up her student folder on the computer.

  “I have something for you to work on today,” he asked. When she walked over, he pointed at the screen. “This student, Derrick Grayson III—I witnessed him and some friends publicly berating an employee of the Magic Bean. Nasty business. I think his behavior violated the student code of ethics. I even have a woman willing to give a statement.” He laid the business card with woman’s number on the receptionist’s desk. “Please get a statement together. I’m going to send it to the dean’s office.”

  Mrs. Everett nodded as she looked at the picture on the file. “I’ll get right on it,” she said. “Some of these kids can be so rude. They have no idea how good they have it.”

  “Exactly.” William stood and went back to his office. A full day would keep him busy. There were two classes to teach, a department grant to oversee and a study to cancel. Ellie had been the only one to respond to the letter—likely because the bad weather made traveling to Hilliard a burden. But he decided it was a blessing in disguise, and that he’d rather concentrate on helping one young woman personally than merely studying dozens on a fact-finding mission.

  Normally his days sped by, but this one seemed to drag. When he left at three, William was so eager that he nearly ignored Mrs. Everett, who finally got him to stop long enough for an update on Derrick Grayson.

  “The dean’s office is very concerned. Dean Larkin wants to speak to you first thing Monday.”

  William nodded. “Good,” he said, and thanked the receptionist on his way out.

  As he walked to the train, his mind replayed the incident from the previous day. He would never forget Ellie’s hurt expression as Derrick and his friends had taunted her. He hoped to bring her eventual news of justice.

  But today there were more immediate steps to take toward her healing. He reached inside his jacket, feeling for the paper he’d tucked into the inner pocket. It would, he realized, be the first test of their new relationship.

  William got to his house ten minutes ahead of the cab. When it arrived, he was watching from one of the leaded window panels beside his front door. Ellie exited the cab hesitantly, a small battered suitcase in one gloved hand. It was faded pink, the sides worn, and he could imagine her as a child toting it to sleepovers. The hoodie she wore today was close to the same color, and he could see that she’d tamed her hair into two braids beneath the hood. Ellie looked so small, standing there on the sidewalk, looking up at the house.

  “Hi,” she said, raising her hand in a small wave when he opened the door.

  “Ellie, hello.” He walked down the step and held out his hand. “Can I take your bag?”

  She seemed to hesitate for a moment before handing it over. “Sure.”

  William stepped back and ushered her up the steps into his house. Once inside, she lowered the hood of her jacket and looked around, her eyes filled with the same wonder William had noticed the day before.

  “Do you want me to start working today?” she asked. “I know it’s late, but I could get started on those papers.”

  “Work?” William was so busy studying Ellie that for a few moments he nearly forgot the offer he’d made to get her to come stay with him, and a moment of guilt overtook him. Was he manipulating an attractive young woman who had nowhere else to go? He immediately pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m helping her.

  “No,” he said. “I’d rather focus on getting you settled in first. Come with me.”

  He turned then and walked into the study with Ellie on his heels.

  “Wow.” She was pointing to a portion of the bookshelf on an opposite wall, where a variety of colorful birds sat fixed in lifelike positions under glass domes.

  William glanced up from behind his desk, pleased that Ellie had walked closer to the display. He retrieved what he’d come for from the drawer of his desk and walked over to where she stood.

  “Taxidermy was all the rage back in the Victorian age,” he explained. “There was a great deal of scientific discovery and, of course, they weren’t so progressive enough to be conservation minded.” He waved his hand at the assembled domes. “Some birds were hunted to extinction for their feathers, or for their curio value.”

  “I suppose it was just their desire to hold onto some wild beauty,” Ellie mused. “I mean, it was the industrial age. The cities were filled with soot and filth.” She paused. “Maybe they feared without a piece of nature, it would be gone forever.”

  William stared at her. “You really are quite astute, you know.”

  When she looked over in surprise, William stepped forward before she could respond and picked up her suitcase before she could protest. “This way,” he said, and left the room to head for the stairs. At the top of the second landing, he turned to Ellie and reached in his pocket for the ring of keys he’d taken from the desk drawer. He watched her eyes widen as he held it out to her.

  “Are these… the actual keys?” she asked softly.

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Yes,” he said. “Nine doors, nine keys. Pick anyone you want.”

  She took them with a charming hesitancy and then looked down the hall and back at him. “It’s really okay?” She clutched the keys to her chest almost reverently, and William felt his heart twist. She was, in so many ways, like a child who’d never been given anything special.

  “I won’t take no for an answer, young lady.” He inclined his head toward the hallway. “Go on, now.”

  Ellie clutched the keyring as she walked down the hall, looking left and right.

  “As I said, choose anyone you like,” he said. “If you open one and don’t fancy it, just choose another.”

  William watched as she stared at first one door then another. Finally, she turned to the left and stood before a door in the middle of the hallway. He felt his heart quicken. That she would pick this door without knowing what was behind it could have been taken for a sign, if he believed in such things. He said nothing as she slipped the corresponding key into the lock, turning it with a soft click. He wanted Ellie to be comfortable, and if she wanted another room, he’d not show his disappointment.

  But as the door swung open, her eyes widened with renewed wonder and she looked back at him and said two words that made William’s heart flutter. “It’s perfect.”

  He picked up the suitcase and walked over to Ellie, putting a hand gently on her back as he guided her into the room.

  William had not been inside since he’d finished the renovations as close to the historical records as possible. The home’s original owner, Merton Wentworth, had called this the Pink Room, because he knew his wife loved the color pink.

  It was a frilly, girlish room. The four-poster bed was festooned with a canopy with pink drapes tied at the four corners. It was a high bed, with an embroidered stepstool by the side.

  Matching curtains hung on the large window above a window seat bearing a striped pink and white cushion. A tall shelf by the window held books, dolls, and teddy bears.

  “Emily Wentworth didn’t have many toys as a child, so her husband made sure she had plenty at her new home.”

  “How old was she when they married?” Ellie asked.

  “Just barely eighteen, I believe,” he said.

  He continued to watch as Ellie walked over to examine the toys—some reproductions and some originals he’d bought from antique dealers. A table on the other side of the window held a scale reproduction of Key House, and Ellie’s eyes lit up as she all but ran over to inspect it.

  “This is
amazing!” she said. “And just like hers! Merton Wentworth gave Emily a set of doll furniture on each Christmas and birthday to decorate the house.” She looked up at William. “Are you going to decorate it?”

  He walked over to her and looked down. “Would you like to decorate it, Ellie?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, I’d like you to get unpacked and meet me in the study. I believe I told you yesterday there are rules in this house, and we need to go over them.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to start working instead?”

  “Ellie…” William injected warning into his voice and was pleased to see Ellie drop her eyes and bite her lip.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” he said. “I expect you in the study in ten minutes and not a moment later.”

  “Sure,” she said, and he turned, leaving her alone.

  Chapter Seven

  “Damn.”

  The little clock on the mantel above the fireplace chimed the half hour, and Ellie suddenly realized she was already ten minutes late. But she’d not been sure where to put things as she unpacked, and then had found herself distracted from dressing by the dovetail construction of the bureau and the cedar lining of the wardrobe.

  Now she removed the hoodie, smoothing the scoop-necked tee she wore under it and then removed the ties from her hair, which she smoothed with a brush. She was an assistant to a professor now. It was time to look the part. Tomorrow, she told herself, she’d even wear a skirt.

  Once she was satisfied with her appearance, Ellie left the room and hurried downstairs. William was looking at his watch when she entered.

  “You’re exactly twelve minutes late,” he said. His tone was stern, and Ellie felt suddenly nervous.

  “I wanted to put everything away.”

  He motioned to the leather sofa and Ellie sat down. William sat down beside her and picked up two pieces of paper. He handed one to Ellie. She looked at it. House Rules and Consequences, the heading read, and underneath was a list. She scanned it silently and after a moment looked up at him.

  “Is this a joke?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

  “No.” The word was delivered with certainty.

  Ellie slowly looked back down at the list, clearing her throat before quietly reciting some of the things on the list.

  “Dress appropriately. Adhere to a scheduled bedtime. No cursing. No… smoking.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Speak respectfully at all times. No outright defiance.” Her eyes moved lower. “Consequences,” she continued. “Early bedtime. Corner time…” She stalled. “Lines… For the most serious infractions…” She forced herself to look up. “Spanking?”

  Ellie fell quiet. When she spoke again, the disappointment was heavy in her voice. “You said it wouldn’t be weird.”

  “It’s not.”

  Ellie stood, holding out the paper. “Bedtimes? Lines…?” She had to force the next word out. It seemed stuck to her tongue like the flavor of a forbidden treat. “Spankings?”

  “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’d be your surrogate father. That means filling the role entirely. I want to take care of you, to guide you—to spoil you a bit, even. But should it be necessary to correct you, I want you to know what to expect.”

  There was a lump in Ellie’s throat that felt like cotton. She tried to swallow it, and when she couldn’t, spoke around it, her voice quiet.

  “Spankings?” She felt silly for repeating the word, and then feeling ashamed for why she was repeating it. It was a word that represented her most secret longing for physical guidance, and more. She shifted, trying to ignore the small, soft throb developing between her legs.

  “No.” Ellie stood and thrust the paper at him, instantly regretting the words. She blinked back tears threatening to form. “I’m… I’m not interested.”

  William stood as well, looking down at her.

  “You’re being untruthful, Ellie,” he said, and she dropped her gaze, afraid he’d look into her eyes and see how right he was. “The list outlines rules and consequences. The consequences are moot if the rules are observed. Are you so sure that you can’t keep these rules?”

  “No! That’s not it,” she said. “That’s not it at all. But the fact that you’d list that kind of consequence. It makes it…”

  “Real?” He finished her sentence. “A good father corrects his child. And yes, it’s old-fashioned. But isn’t that what you want, Ellie? The traditional father? The strict but loving guardian?” He paused. “Because that’s what I’m offering, and while I’ll be sorry to see you go, I won’t stop you.”

  His words triggered hurt surprise. Her lip trembled as she spoke. “You want me to leave?”

  “That’s the last thing I want,” he said gently. “But as a father figure, it’s my job to be honest and unwavering, and to let you know that the conditions of my role are not negotiable. I respect your right to leave if you cannot accept them. If you stay, some choices will be made for you. But this is one you must make.”

  Ellie started to tell him she was, indeed, leaving. But when she opened her mouth, the words wouldn’t come out. Why couldn’t she do it? But that was silly. She knew why. Everything he was promising her was everything she wanted, everything she craved.

  She reached down and picked up the paper where he’d laid it after she handed it to him.

  “I can try…” she began.

  “No.” He shook his head. “You have to agree, Ellie.”

  She sank back down onto the sofa, smoothing the paper out in her lap.

  “I want this chance,” she said, sniffing. “It’s what I’ve dreamed of. But duress…”

  “It is not duress,” he said. “You are free to go, Ellie.”

  “But I don’t want to.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she flushed at how small her voice sounded, how small she felt. She rushed to qualify herself, repeating, “This job is everything I’ve dreamed of.”

  William sighed and reached over to take her hand. “I know you want this job. And I’m not the kind of person to put conditions on that part of the offer. If you want the job, I’ll take you back to your home and you can just report here in the afternoons for the work. But if you want to stay, it will be under the conditions I outlined.”

  She could not stop the tear that slid from her eye. “But I do want to stay,” she said. “It’s just that I’m…”

  “Afraid?” he guessed.

  She nodded.

  “And what are you afraid of, little Ellie?” He put a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was forced to look at him. She shuddered. Just like in my story.

  “You can talk to me,” he said.

  She sighed, and when he moved his finger she didn’t look away. “The unknown, I guess. What you put on the list. There’s something almost… comforting about those guidelines. My mom…” Ellie winced at the memory, “…all my life she’s been this fragile sort of person. My dad left her broken. I think she blamed herself for his leaving us. She wanted to make it up to me. She couldn’t indulge me with things. We could barely keep the lights on. So she let me do as I pleased.”

  “So you weren’t really parented at all,” he said.

  “I felt like I was the parent half the time,” Ellie said quietly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. My mom loves me. A stronger person may have handled raising a child better, but she was never strong. She did the best she could.”

  “You’re kind not to be angry with her.”

  “Why should I be?” Ellie asked softly. “She didn’t do anything wrong. But my father…”

  “You have every right to be angry with him,” William said. “He never gave you what you needed—a father’s caring, a father’s guidance, a father’s discipline. It left a hole in your life; there’s no shame in longing for it.” He paused. “All of it.”

  A silence hung between them for a moment.<
br />
  “Do you want me to tell you what’s really bothering you?” he asked.

  Ellie nodded. It was easier this way, letting him tell her.

  “You’re hung up on one word on that list.”

  “Yes,” she quietly agreed.

  “Spanking represents something to you, doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “We could stop,” he said. “But if we do you’ll never have the courage to have it again.”

  The truth of the statement rattled her. How long had it taken her to write the word in her stories? How long had she written around it, slowly evolving scenes of scolding into scenes of correction at the hands of a strong male lead with paternal bearing? How long had it been until Ellie had allowed herself to live vicariously through her heroines, submitting to correction through them in lieu of actually having it in her life?

  “It does,” she said quietly. “I don’t even know why. I’ve always seen… spanking… as something…”—the last word of her sentence was barely a whisper— “…special.”

  “That’s because it is,” he said. “And it’s no wonder why you’d be fascinated with it. When we break the rules as an adult, we are subject to adult consequences. Spankings are not deemed appropriate for adults living an adult life, and a person who has been denied a childhood may well find themselves wistful for that hand of authority. It may seem unfair to have missed out on the kind of personal, loving correction so often unique to children and parents or those vested with authority by parents.”

  “But is it healthy?” she asked, worried.

  “I believe it is perfectly healthy, especially for a young lady who can only be made whole by having a missing piece of her life filled in.” He offered her a gentle smile. “Will you allow me to do that for you?”

  “I’m still afraid,” she said. “I mean… what if it hurts too much?”

  William sighed and raised Ellie to her feet. For a moment, she was filled with dread that he was about to send her away, but instead he took her hands in his.

  “That’s a legitimate fear, and one best faced now. Yes, it will hurt. And yes, if you are very bad I may punish you beyond tears. But I will never harm you, and anything I do will always be for your own good.” He looked into her eyes. “You were late getting in here, Ellie.”