Maybe, he thought, he should just accept that he would never understand his daughter and she would never understand him. Having accepted the truth of that, they would both then be free to be themselves, without worry that they were in any way responsible for one another’s well-being. That seemed a fair solution to the problem, and in coming to it, he ignored the fact that Caddie had been involved in none of the discussions leading to the decision.

A minute later, he changed his mind and determined to try. There was, he told himself, no reason why he couldn’t come to appreciate his daughter, if not as the flesh of his flesh, then at least as an individual. She seemed interesting enough. Perhaps, with effort, he could find something in her to cling to, some thought or feeling to which he could relate. Maybe she likes Coltrane, he thought hopefully. It would, at least, be something.

He would start at dinner. He would ask her about herself, find out what she hoped to do with her life. He glanced at the clock. He had an hour and a half before they reconvened, enough time for him to write down some thoughts he’d been having about a paper he was scheduled to give in October at a symposium in Tokyo on the issue of promoting marine conservation in communities built on fishing. That would help him clear his mind before tackling the much-trickier issue of learning to be a friend to his child.

Taking up his pen, he began to write.

CHAPTER 6

Caddie awoke with a start. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming. The room she was in was the same one from her nightmare, in which she’d been kidnapped by a faceless attacker and imprisoned in a run-down house. Now, to her deep disappointment, she realized that it was all real. Only her jailor had a face.

Then she remembered dinner. What time was it? She turned and looked at the clock that sat on the bedside table. Like everything else, it seemed antiquated, its face round and numbered. No red electric eyes, just hands that swept silently around and around. It took her a moment to remember how to read the damn thing.

Seven-twenty. What time had her father said they would have dinner? Eight? She stretched and yawned. It felt more like two in the morning. The Valium had really knocked her out. Still, she wished she was still asleep. Even a nightmare was better than the reality of her situation.

She thought about going back to sleep, maybe even pretending to be asleep so that her father would leave her alone. But she was a little hungry, and food didn’t sound so bad. Maybe sushi. If they even had sushi in Monterey. Somehow she doubted it.

She sat up. Despite the hour, it was still light out, that soft summer evening light that made everything appear soft, sort of out of focus. She heard the kids outside, still playing at their games. She remembered how it was, that feeling of freedom, like night and bedtime would never come, like the summer would last forever. When did that time end? When had she realized that life wasn’t always going to be ice-cream sweet?