This story was suggested by the wonderful Wickedpen, who helped with suggestions and comments throughout. I am most grateful for her encouragement and constructive criticism. As a Brit writing an American story, there may be some slips into British English, so apologies to my American readers for any glaring errors. I hope people enjoy my first foray into father daughter incest. Constructive feedback and criticism is very welcome.
*****
Tom had already ignored the house phone twice in the last ten minutes but when it rang a third time, he decided that perhaps it might be important for someone to ring so frequently. He set aside the plate of Titian's Sleeping Venus in the book he was studying and, with a reluctant final glance at the recumbent goddess's exquisite curves, stretched out his arm for the receiver. "Yes, what is it?" he asked gruffly.
"Dad?" A familiar voice asked above the background noise of a public address announcement. Tom's heart went cold for a moment and he looked over at the clock on his office desk. Shit, it was 3.42 and the girls' flight was supposed to have landed at 3 o'clock.
"Cassie?" Tom said. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I got distracted by work and forgot all about your flight. I'm so sorry darling." He could hear his daughter chuckle but with a hint of annoyance and resigned acceptance.
"Par for the course, Dad," she said, trying to keep her temper. "Don't worry, we'll wait but get a move on, 'kay?" She said. "We've been here twenty minutes already and I've tried your cell like four times plus the house phone."
"Yes, sorry," Tom mumbled in reply. "My phone's on silent and I thought the house phone was just some telesales crap so I left it. No one rings landlines any more do they?"
"They do if their father isn't picking up his cell," Cassie stated huffily.
"Sure, sure," Tom stalled, "you're right. Am really sorry darling, I'll be with you both soon, I promise."
"Ok Dad, see you soon. We'll go to a coffee shop and text you which one, 'kay? Just don't get the wrong terminal," she added before she rung off. Tom jumped out of his chair, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He'd got outside before he realised he'd left the car keys behind and he had to go back. What the hell was wrong with him? Jennifer always said that he'd forget his head if it wasn't screwed on. Jennifer. He sighed at the thought of her as he retreated back into the house and searched his desk and then various coat pockets for his car keys before he finally located them. How long was it now since she had passed? Four years, two months and seventeen days. He knew, always knew, how long it had been since she'd died, taken from him by cancer at just 41. Jennifer had been his light, so bright and vivacious and full of life. It seemed so unfair that death had snuffed all that out in just a few weeks. One moment she'd been well, then after a check-up for a few headaches an inoperable brain tumour and then gone before they'd all had a chance even to adjust to the possibility.
Tom had always assumed that he'd go first. He was older than her after all. He'd been a star junior professor and she'd been his doctoral student. Not exactly a new story but, before Jennifer, Tom had been entirely dedicated to is work. She'd brought him out of himself, made him more human, more gregarious but then she was gone. He'd retreated into himself since then, focused now only on his work and their girls, wanting to fulfil his last promise to Jennifer. He could feel her hand on his even now, all her remaining strength seemed to be concentrated into her small hand as she gripped him tightly and looked into his green eyes. "Promise me Tom," she had whispered hoarsely, her voice barely recognisable. "Swear it, that you'll not let them down like I have." He had tears in his eyes as he told her that she'd not let them down, any of them, but that he'd bring up the girls the way she'd be proud of and that they'd want for nothing.
He wiped away fresh tears now as he tried to see which exit to take out of town and towards the airport. Get a grip man, he told himself. She wouldn't want to see you crying. She would, though, he reflected. At least it showed he cared about something. These days people said that the only things Tom Richardson cared about were his book on depictions of the classic world in the Renaissance and his two girls. He felt guilty that this afternoon he'd prioritised one over the other. He promised himself that while they were with him for Spring Break, he would give them proper time.
"He's on his way Andi," Cassie said as she hung up and turned to her twin sister. "I was right, he forgot about it and was still at home."
"Oh," her sister said. "I guess he's been super busy and we just slipped his mind." Andi said gently. She was always more prepared to see the best in people and give them the benefit of the doubt. She'd thought that when Cassie couldn't get through on their father's cell that he must have been in the car. It was Cassie who'd suggested it was more likely that he was still at home lost in the 16th century.
"Come on," Cassie said, taking the handle of her suitcase and wheeling it towards a Starbucks. "I told him we'd get a coffee while we wait. You're buying as I was right." She said confidently and, as usual, Andi acquiesced. Cassie was always the more assertive one. She lead and Andi followed. It was usually the only way you could tell the twins apart. Identical twins, now twenty years of age, Cassie and Andi were exactly the same and completely different. They did most things together, almost invariably at Cassie's instance, and they loved and knew each other with that fierce intensity that only identical twins possess. They could finish each other's sentences and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. Their personalities, however, were very different, as if Mother Nature, having created a physical carbon copy, had reacted against this when shaping their personalities. Cassie was loud, dominating most conversations, sharp tongued and adventurous, while Andi was much more gentle, timid even at times, more understanding and empathetic towards others. Andi often had to pick up the pieces after Cassie's whirlwind had torn through a situation. They suited each other perfectly, however, and people tended to think they were getting two friends for the price of one with the Richardson twins and between them they offered everything that one might want in a friend and more.
The barista admired the long legs and long red hair of the two girls and, when they turned away to carry the coffees to their table, he blew out his cheeks at the thought of Andi's pert ass, bending over to place the cups carefully on the table. The two girls sat down to wait for their father. They were approaching the end of their second year at NYU now and, while they had received plenty of invitations to go down to Florida or some other holiday hot spot for Spring Break, they'd decided to head home to Georgia for the vacation to spend some quality time with their father. Actually it had been Andi's decision. Cassie was all for going to Florida with some of the guys from the men's water polo team (her being captain of the female team), but for once Andi had insisted that their father needed them at home. They hadn't seen him since Christmas and she was worried about him. Cassie had reluctantly agreed, though secretly she missed her dad as much as Andi. She just hid it better.
They chatted idly about school and what this break might bring. They lived near Chattahooche Hills, a small place just outside Atlanta that had retained its rural character better than most of the environs of Georgia's capital. While the city wasn't far away and they would be able to escape there, the girls knew that their father liked to avoid leaving their ramshackle farmstead unless he had to go in to lecture at Georgia State. The old farmhouse was charming and cosy in its way but was in need of refurbishment. They'd bought it when the girls were thirteen. For Tom it was a chance to escape the city, while Jennifer and the girls were enthusiastic about the opportunities of a makeover project. Then the girls had discovered that boys and sports were more interesting than home improvements and not long after that Jennifer had got sick. With Jennifer gone, Tom had neither the time, inclination nor the money to do anything more, so it had remained largely untouched, bar the odd emergency repair, since their mother had died.
Both girls agreed that while home offered comforts and familiarity and, of course, their father, being stuck there for two weeks wasn't an option. Fortunately, they had a number of friends who'd stayed local for College so there'd be plenty of opportunities for meeting up and having fun. As ever with Cassie, however, it didn't take too long for the conversation to slip into boys. Cassie wasn't easy but she did believe that being young was an opportunity to have fun and that being beautiful, as she undoubtedly was, simply afforded one more opportunities to have fun and with better-looking guys. Andi, on the other hand, was steadier in her affections. She'd had only two boyfriends in time at NYU and while she liked to party too, she always politely turned down the attempts of guys to get her to cheat. She was, however, currently single, having dumped her boyfriend a few weeks back. She'd let him down gently but he'd been flooding her phone trying to win her back since.
Andi let Cassie run on, listing the boys she liked and those whom she thought that Andi ought to go for now she was single again. Andi just smiled politely as her sister ticked off names on her fingers only adding the occasional comment as to why they weren't suitable or a bemused snort at one or two of Cassie's more outlandish suggestions. Cassie realised that she wasn't going to get anyway with this tack, so she began to discuss their professors instead and both girls giggled in horror as they discussed the obese Professor Kowalski in Psych and the dandruff problem that Professor Gordon in Ancient History suffered from. Cassie eventually settled on their Government professor, Jamie Hislop, something of a rockstar among the NYU faculty. In his early forties, tall, stylish and with a fashionable beard, he was very much the epitome of a hipster academic and Cassie had had a long-range crush on him since their first semester. Andi rolled her eyes at her sister, as this was hardly the first time that she'd mentioned Professor Hislop, or Jamie as she liked to call him dreamily.
