Marjorie’s pale blue eyes widened in shock then frosted with haughty temper as she turned to leave. “I did not raise my daughter to speak to me in that manner. I will return when you can keep a civil tongue in your head.”
Laurie smirked at her mother’s back. Damien’s bulk blocked the open door. He leaned casually against the door frame, his stony stare fixed on Marjorie as she stopped in her tracks.
“Sit down, Mother,” Laurie commanded icily, concentrating on anger rather than nerves and uncertainty. “I want answers.”
Wearing dignity like a cloak, Marjorie crossed the room and perched primly on the edge of the couch, her legs crossed at the knee. Her rigid demeanor, perfectly coifed blond hair, cool blue eyes, and chic white linen pantsuit proclaimed a woman born to money and high society.
Her method of intimidation was subtle but unmistakable. Laurie struggled to ignore it but after a lifetime it was difficult. Only anger helped her.
Like a prosecuting attorney cross-examining a hostile witness, Laurie paced the floor.
She stopped suddenly in front of Marjorie, forcing her mother to look up at her.
“Why did you tell me my father was dead?” Anger and betrayal pulsed in every word and successfully hid the spasm of pain in her heart.
Marjorie paled, her gaze shifting to the floor. She said nothing.
“I know he’s alive,” Laurie continued firmly. “I just witnessed his capture from his terrorist group. Tell me why you lied to me all my life.”
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
82
“Why do you care?” Marjorie countered sharply. Her head snapped up. Anger, carefully controlled, blazed in her eyes. “He’s gone. He was never in your life. He may as well have been dead. He didn’t care about us—just his precious work and his warped political ideals.” Bitter sufferance tinged her words. “I did everything for you. I raised you, cared for you, with no help from anyone.”
“So I heard,” Laurie responded with bitter sarcasm, forgetting her original purpose under Marjorie’s typical counterattack. “You never let me forget that. You did not want me. I was your way of being a martyr—a reason for people to feel sorry for you and admire you at the same time. Yeah, it was real hard with all that money you were born with!”
Marjorie glared icicles at her daughter, snapped her mouth shut, and stood up to leave.
Head held high, she marched to the door. This time, Damien stepped aside and let her go. The door didn’t slam but closed with a firm thud and a dull click of the latch. Her mother would never be so undignified as to actually slam a door.
“Damn it. No wonder he left,” Laurie muttered, too weary to keep the bitter frustration from her voice. “He had to face that every day.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Damien suggested calmly as he crossed the room to her.
“You don’t know what happened.”
Mentally and physically exhausted, Laurie looked up at him. “Well, that’s as much as I knew before. She won’t tell me anything. Don’t I have a right to know?”
Tears threatened but she blinked them back. Squelching the urge to cry in frustration, she took a deep calming breath and squared her shoulders. Damien put his hands gently on her shoulders and drew her into his arms. She didn’t resist his comfort. She leaned on him for a moment, enjoying the warm security of his embrace for the last time.
“I have to deal with this just like I do everything else—alone,” she told him firmly when she finally pulled away.
She turned and strode out of the living room. In the kitchen, she stood by the sink and stared out the window. She knew he followed. His presence filled her kitchen as well as her heart.
“So many questions that have no answers.” She turned abruptly and faced him resolutely.
“I need to see him.”
Damien didn’t ask whom. “Why would you want to?”
“It’s not a want,” she explained quietly. “I need answers, Damien.”
He let out a slow breath. “I’ll look into it. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”
She turned back to the window with a fatalistic shrug. “Can’t ask more than that.”
She rested her hands on the edge of the sink as thoughts of her parents and Damien chased circles in her mind. Her gaze swept the fenced back yard. She missed him already and he wasn’t gone yet. What would she do after he left?
Get on with my life, she thought stubbornly. She had survived almost thirty years without Damien. She would manage another thirty years. She was home and her daughter was safe. That was the only promise Damien made her. He had kept that promise.