Bandit was dead because of Andrew, and now he had the gall to look at her as though she were the contemptible one. She met his eyes squarely. “One man risked his life to save a stranger’s dog, and another shot that same dog in an angry fit. Who is the more worthy man?”
Splotches of anger appeared on Andrew’s face, but before he could say anything, Jedidiah intervened.
“Be careful, girl,” Jedidiah said. “You’re walking a fine line and need to think carefully before saying more.”
He was right. She could confess everything right now, but it wouldn’t unlock the prison doors for Luke. She swallowed back her anger as she looked at Andrew.
“As always, you are a model of wisdom and compassion,” she said, not bothering to mask the disdain in her voice.
Frustration and shame roiled inside her as she headed upstairs. She couldn’t help Luke if Clyde ordered her to Baltimore or if they cut her out of the family completely. They did it to Aunt Stella, and they could do it to her. They angered, frustrated, and exasperated her ... but she loved them and always would.
And tomorrow she would start working to get Luke out.
Twenty-Five
Marianne was cautious as she joined the others at the breakfast table on Monday morning. Vera had yet to appear, pleading a headache, but the others had gathered, chattering about Clyde’s big speech before Congress this afternoon as though the catastrophe of last night hadn’t happened.
“I’ll be talking about tax law for hoofed livestock,” Clyde said. “Those are valuable animals, but they can die in their pens while waiting for the tax man to sign off on miserable paperwork. No hoofed livestock should be at the mercy of a neglectful government.”
Sam’s fist tightened around his spoon as he sent a worried glance toward Clyde. “Does the government shoot and kill hoofed livestock?”
Marianne’s heart squeezed. Ever since her brother shot Bandit, Sam had grown increasingly fearful of all manner of things. He worried about Vera’s pet parakeet coming to harm, or if rosebushes felt pain when their blooms were cut. It was all Andrew’s fault, and her brother never expressed a hint of remorse for his cruel treatment of Bandit.
Clyde evaded Sam’s question with the ease of a natural politician. “You needn’t fear for the livestock, Sam. My plan willassure every animal is properly accounted for. Livestock are valuable creatures.”
The tension around Sam’s mouth eased. “I think so too.”
The fact that Sam was still traumatized by what happened to Bandit seared, and Marianne shot a glare at Andrew. “You should be so proud.”
The subtle insult was understood by everyone at the table except Sam, but Andrew didn’t bat an eyelash. “I am, Marianne. I am,” he said smoothly.
No normal family would tolerate what happened to Bandit. Their family was blessed with wealth and privilege. They had everything anyone could ever need, and yet still people had to walk on eggshells, fearing the next outburst, scandal, or unforgiving punishment. Who was to blame for all this?
She looked at Andrew, then at Clyde, the leader of their family. She stood and addressed her father. “Why do you tolerate this? Why do you look the other way?”
She truly wanted to know. This wasn’t how a loving family should operate, but Clyde was the only one with the authority to put his foot down and demand change.
A pause lengthened in the room, disturbed only by a few birds chirping outside the window. Her heart pounded, and she prayed that Clyde would see reason even as she quaked in fear of his reaction.
“Sit down, Marianne.” He spoke calmly, but the order was unmistakable.
She sat, a complete and total coward. This family was off-kilter, and she was too fainthearted to correct it. Could she live with this the rest of her life? She loved Sam and her parents too much to imagine leaving. Even though they sometimes made her frustrated and angry, she would be unmoored without them, so she’d sat down like a coward.
“My speech is scheduled for one o’clock,” Clyde continued.“I suggest everyone arrive early so we can have lunch in the congressional dining room beforehand.”
Marianne intended to see Luke this morning, not spend the day at the Capitol. She chose her words carefully.
“I need to pick up my list of assignments from my supervisor,” she said. “It’s what I always do on Monday morning.”
“But not today, surely,” Clyde said. “Your mother wants everyone to ride in the carriage as a group to the Capitol.”
It was time to gather the threads of her shattered courage and fight for something. Luke had to be her priority this morning, not submitting to the niceties of her maladjusted family.
“I’ll still have plenty of time to make my way to the Capitol for your speech after I see my supervisor.”
“You’re not riding with us?” Delia asked pointedly.
“I have a job,” she replied as she rose, eager to leave the table. “I need to pick up my list of assignments for the week, and I’ll meet everyone to watch Father’s speech at one o’clock.”
