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The Institute, Daddy Issues(114)

By:Evangeline Anderson


I looked up, try­ing to make out the words in the dim light­ing.

“Father…daugh­ter…ban­quet,” I read aloud and looked at Salt with wide eyes. “How did you…what did you…?” I couldn’t get the words out.

“I am sorry.” He shrugged apo­lo­get­ic­ally. “I could not find ban­ner that read ‘dance’ in­stead of ban­quet. Was the closest I could get.”

Sud­denly it all made sense. In a startled rush, I felt my­self whizz­ing back­wards in time—back to a sad little girl who was sit­ting on the curb out­side her house wear­ing her pret­ti­est party dress and wait­ing for her Daddy to take her to the Valentine’s Day dance. That little girl waited un­til her heart broke and her Daddy never came. But Salt—my Papa—had come for me. He had dressed me up in a beau­ti­ful blue dress and taken me to the dance—the one I had never got­ten to go to back when I was only nine.

“Salt,” I whispered. “Papa…”

“Dance with me, my little sweet­heart,” he mur­mured.

I thought my heart would burst. My little sweet­heart—it was what I had told Salt my father used to call me. Back when he was still in my life and everything was good.

“I…I…” I was frozen in place. Memor­ies of the past were still swamp­ing me. Wait­ing and wait­ing for a Daddy who never came. Wish­ing so hard to go to the dance and be held in his arms. And now Salt had made my dream a real­ity—he had righted a wrong so old it had nearly eaten a hole in my soul.

I just couldn’t be­lieve it.

Salt came to me and put an arm around my waist. Numbly, I put my hand in his and we began to dance, just the two of us in the empty aud­it­or­ium dec­or­ated with bal­loons and stream­ers and big red valentines.

“Do you like?” Salt mur­mured in a low voice after we’d been sway­ing to the mu­sic for a few minutes. “I hope it is not too much.”

“It’s…I can’t be­lieve you went to all this trouble,” I said, look­ing around the dim aud­it­or­ium. I still felt stunned, blind­sided by the ef­fort he’d put into this even­ing.

He shrugged, smil­ing a little.

“I wanted my Baby­girl to go to the dance. The dance she missed so many years ago.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, look­ing up at him earn­estly. “This is bey­ond any­thing I ever ima­gined. Thank you, so much…Papa.”

Salt cupped my cheek in his big hand.

“I must con­fess, I had ul­terior motive for do­ing all this.”

“You did?” I looked at him un­cer­tainly. What reason could he have to re­cre­ate this scene from my past?

“I did. Is this.” Salt let go of me and sud­denly went down on one knee, right there on the dance floor. Reach­ing into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small black vel­vet box.

I felt like my heart had stopped beat­ing.

“Salt?” I whispered in a shaky voice. “You’re not go­ing to…”

“My darling,” he mur­mured, open­ing the box and hold­ing it out to me. “Will you marry me?”

“You…you’re ser­i­ous?” I took the box from him with trem­bling fin­gers. There was a gor­geous square cut dia­mond ring in­side—I didn’t know how many car­ats but it looked big.

“Da—of course I am ser­i­ous.” He nod­ded. “I want you—I have since we first met and the Cap­tain put us to­gether.”

“But…but what about the way we ‘play’ to­gether?” I asked. “What about that?”

“I want that too,” Salt said softly. “I want you as Andi, my tough part­ner who I can trust when we are out on the streets. And I want you as mishka, my sweet Baby­girl who likes to cuddle in her Papa’s lap. I want all of you—be­cause I love you.” His voice went low and hoarse as he spoke. “I love you so much, my darling.”

“Oh…Oh, Salt…Papa…” I didn’t know what to call him. I only knew my eyes were welling up with tears and I could barely breathe I was so filled with emo­tion.

I sank down on the floor be­side him and Salt pulled me into his lap. We sat there on the dance floor to­gether with no one to judge us or say the way we loved each other was strange or wrong be­cause we were alone.

Ex­cept we weren’t alone, I real­ized—we had each other. And Salt was ask­ing me to make that a per­man­ent ar­range­ment. Be­cause he loved me—just the way I was. Flawed and needy and with enough Daddy is­sues to keep a whole team of shrinks busy for years.