“Father, do we have to do this now?” Anette asked, glancing around the table. Her parents were relentless when it came to speaking about marriage.
Her father huffed. “You don’t still have the grand illusions of writing a book, do you?”
“I do,” Anette said.
“That is a waste of your time, and our time,” her father stated.
Caleb shoved back his chair and rose. “Leave her alone!” he ordered. “She doesn’t have to get married if she doesn’t want to.”
Her father stared at his son in disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”
“You think you know better, but you don’t,” Caleb scoffed. “If Anette wants to write a blasted book, let her.”
“Language, Caleb,” her mother chided.
Anette watched as Caleb inhaled deeply, his eyes glaring at their father. Why was he acting so irrational? Her father was critical of her but she could handle it. Besides, this wasn’t anything new.
“It is all right,” Anette assured her brother.
“It isn’t,” Caleb responded. “Father wants us all to live up to this notion that we are a perfect family, but we aren’t.”
Rising, Roswell asked, “A word, Caleb?”
Caleb tossed down his napkin onto the table and stormed out.
Roswell followed after Caleb and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. Anette reached for her glass, unsure of what she should say.
Her father cleared his throat. “I… uh… feel as if I should apologize,” he started. “It was not my intention to make anyone feel uncomfortable this evening.”
“I know, Father,” Anette replied.
“I just want to see you settled down with the right person,” he explained, his words sounding contrite. “I need to know that you will be taken care of, even when I am gone.”
Anette placed her glass back down onto the table and said, “I understand, but I want to do more with my life than what is expected of me.”
“Marriage brings forth security,” her father stated.
“To me it feels like a shackle.”
Her father turned his attention towards his wife. “Elizabeth, can you talk some sense into your daughter?”
“I’ve tried,” her mother said. “Perhaps it is time for us to trust that Anette knows what’s best for herself.”
Anette couldn’t have been more surprised by her mother’s words. Her mother had been pushing her to be the perfect lady from the time she was little.
Her father considered his wife for a moment before saying, “You may be right. I have been pushing Anette rather hard lately.” He shifted his gaze back to her. “But this doesn’t mean we don’t want you to get married.”
“Yes, Father,” Anette said.
Her father’s eyes crinkled around the corners. “And, once you finish your book, I can make some inquiries about getting it published.”
Anette’s eyes grew wide. Nothing could have surprised her more. “Are you in earnest?”
“I am, but I can’t make any promises,” he replied. “This is assuming that you agree to write under a pseudonym.”
“I can live with that,” Anette said.
“Very well.” Her father pushed back his chair. “I should go speak to Caleb and tell him that we have settled our differences.”
