Chapter 7: The Bystander’s Burden

A gust of wind outside blew rose petals against the window. I remembered that spring, watching Caroline’s maid lead Cousin Whitaker through the hall. Rachel’s kite string was tangled in the bushes, and as Cousin Whitaker picked it up, he recited her favorite poem while walking over. I closed my book, watching Caroline hide behind the garden wall, twisting her handkerchief. Caroline’s plan was only to make Dad lose faith in Rachel, so she could be the favorite. I saw it all, but said nothing.

If I hadn’t worried Rachel would really crash and burn, I wouldn’t even have mentioned at dinner, casually, "Rachel’s been pretty idle lately, always taking me out to fly kites."

From the moment I figured everything out, I played the bystander. But now, I can’t tell: that spring, was it my words that tipped off my parents, or did they already know, just watching from the shadows?

Mom smiled faintly, like she could read my mind. "Your dad always says, to win at chess you have to know when to sacrifice a piece. Sometimes, what looks like a small move now is actually the game-changer ten moves down the line."

She brushed a stray hair from my ear, speaking gently. "The patterns of light and shadow in this world can’t be summed up in a few words; seeing too clearly isn’t always a blessing."

How could I not know? But in this big house, there’s no place for the clueless. To weigh gain and loss with clarity—isn’t that its own kind of cruelty?

"Do you know why I kept you here today?" She hesitated, then drew me into her arms, tracing the name ‘Connelly’ in my palm. "Remember, it’s exactly because you’re a Connelly daughter that your dad goes to such lengths to plan."

I breathed in the faint jasmine scent on Mom, her voice as gentle as when she used to tuck me in. "You take after your dad, you know that? Around here, what matters isn’t winning today—it’s what you leave behind."

Outside, the church bells rang, and birds called beneath the eaves. Only years later, when I put on my wedding dress and moved far away to Boston, did I realize: Dad’s chess game had mapped out all our fates long ago.