Linda stepped out.
She looked immaculate, as always. Beige coat. Pearl earrings. Hair pinned neatly back. She held a covered casserole dish in both hands like she had come to offer comfort instead of confusion.
“Emily,” she called. “We need to talk.”
Dad moved in front of me. “No.”
Linda’s eyes flickered toward the house. “Colonel Bennett, I understand you’re upset. But this family matter has been blown terribly out of proportion.”
“Leave.”
“I brought food.”
“No.”
Her pleasant mask cracked. “You can’t keep her from her husband forever.”
I stepped from behind Dad before fear could stop me.
“No,” I said. “I’m keeping myself away.”
Linda’s gaze shifted to me. For a moment, I saw something raw beneath her expression. Not guilt. Not exactly anger. Panic.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” she said.
“I’m starting to.”
Her fingers tightened around the dish. “That baby is a Carter.”
