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Is it?He means,who else was with you?
He might know about Jameson, or he might be trying to get me to admit to dancing at the club.
I don’t want to admit to either.
He’s not putting any pressure on my face with his hands. Would he stop me from moving if I pulled away?
Am I totally screwed?
Again?
“Grandpapa, I don’t know what you mean.”
He pats at my face and steps back, eyes flicking over me. Over my leggings and tank top and Jameson’s shirt.
“Did someone pressure you?” Now he sounds like he did when I was much younger. “Convince you to act so irresponsibly?”
Irresponsiblycould mean dancing at a gentlemen’s club or asking a kidnapper to stay with him for another week or any number of things.
I’m not giving him Jameson’s name.
According to the ideals of truth and integrity, that’s theonlyway I should answer this question. It’s completely true that Jameson pressured me to fall off the face of the earth by way of picking me up and putting me into the back of his SUV.
Before he did that, I would have believed wholeheartedly that Grandpapa would respond to the news of my kidnapping and subsequent abandonment by pursuing justice via the legal system.
He’d probably still pursue justice via the legal system, given thejudgething.
I’m no longer convinced that he’d do it in a way that was appropriate. In a way that didn’t involve some shady legal justification for violence. In a way that wasn’t corrupt.
It’s not a great feeling.
“No.” I let the word out on a sigh like I’m heartily disappointed in myself. “There was nobody else. I just…”
Justhangs there for so long that I think he might not say anything, and then I’ll have to awkwardly finish the sentence by myself.
“Just, Lily-bug?”
“I just needed a break. The Immersive Scholars program is—it’s amazing. I guess it’s also…a little overwhelming.”
“Ah.” Grandpapa’s face softens. Even after the phone call, even afterthat godforsaken place,even after the tacit admission that he’s been spying on me, a small, childish part of me hopes desperately that this is all a misunderstanding. That he’s exhausted himself worrying about me. That he’s never been the kind of man who would throw orphaned children out of their home just to line his pockets. “That’s perfectly understandable.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” His smile is as familiar as the bedroom I grew up in and the tree in the front yard. “I’ve had similar feelings a time or two in my career. I hope you won’t think less of me.”
“Grandpapa, ofcourseI wouldn’t.”
“Good.” He slaps lightly at his thigh with one hand. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll take the weekend and talk it through. You’ll rejoin your study group next week. I’ve already sent in your acceptance for the program, so—”
“You—Grandpapa, what?”
He gives me a concerned frown that’s almost genuine. “Your friend, Millicent, had expressed concern that you might not return in time to accept, so I acted on your behalf.”
“Actually, I—”
“No second thoughts.” Grandpapa waves his hand in the air like he can dispel my crushing sense of doom. “You’ll be attending the program. It’s the perfect way to get back on track.”
“I don’t necessarily think I’m off-track. What I need is some time to consider—”
