She took out one of my letters to James and showed it to me. “Do you stand by everything you wrote?”
Mind still reeling I nodded dumbly. My letters were all a variation on the same desperate theme and I meant every word.
Francesca peered into my eyes, as if searching not only to see whether I had a soul but what it was made of. I was too gobsmacked to return the favour.
“If you are serious about being a part of Ryan’s life I’m going to help you,” she said.
Was she for real? She didn’t look as if she’d break into evil cackles but all the same... I peered at her, waiting for her to laugh in my face. Francesca seemed to understand my bafflement, giving me a brisk nod to confirm I hadn’t heard her wrong.
I wanted to laugh, I wanted to shout. I did neither, taking deep breaths and wondering if any second she would change her mind and walk away. The woman despised me and she always had, so...
“Why the fuck would you want to help me see Ryan?”
Francesca glanced at Tarzan and I took the hint. “This is Reverend Tarcisius Mortgensen.”
Tarzan met her look and took my hand. “I’m Paisley’s special friend.”
Startled, I pulled my fingers away and he tightened his grip. Then it hit me. God, I love smart people. Francesca had seen me whomp that kiss on him and he figured he should bail me out lest she add ‘corrupting ministers’ to my crimes. I squeezed his hand and he relaxed.
Thin-lipped, Francesca continued. “My reasons for helping you are none of your concern. What matters is that Ryan has his mother in his life, if you’re willing.”
Willing? Didn’t seven years of begging show how willing I was? I bit my tongue and drew blood, but that was better than hurling abuse and taking my anger out on Francesca. Once more I searched her face, trying to read her motives and getting nothing. No wonder James was so good at shielding his mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling her gesture wasn’t about helping me, but something else entirely. That she was hiding something was obvious. But what?#p#分页标题#e#
“Are you abusing illegal substances?” she asked stiffly.
“No.”
“Alcohol?”
I shook my head.
“Cigarettes?”
“Occasionally, when I’m out at night.”
She frowned.
“But I just gave that shit up.”
Up went her nose. “You will sanitise your speech, young lady. I will not tolerate foul language around my grandson.”
“I can do that, no problem,” I said, ignoring the little tickle from Tarzan.
“If you prove your abstinence from drugs and alcohol and can conduct yourself properly I will attempt to sway James in your favour.”
“Why?” I insisted.
Silence.
“Okay, tell me where and when to go for testing and I’ll do it. Right now if you like. As for cigarettes and bad language, I don’t see how I can prove to you I’m not doing either.”
“Honesty is what I ask of you. Truthfulness and respect for my family.”
Jesus, she was asking that of me of all people? What I had done to her son was far from honest or respectful, but she seemed to want to trust me in spite of the past. No silent phrases bolstered the feeling, just the intuitive certainty she wished with all her heart I was true to my word.
I gulped over the tightness in my throat. If I was going to be honest, I’d better start now. “I have no intention of giving up my job at Flintfire.”
Her lips curled downward. “How you managed to place yourself in James’s office doesn’t bear thinking, but since you’ve done so I wouldn’t expect you to resign.”
My brows rose and I waited, but she didn’t accuse me of stalking. Neither did she say that she’d advised James to seek a restraining order for himself.
Nevertheless, I proceeded cautiously. “What makes you think you can change James’s mind? He despises me. He never answered any of my letters or phone calls and he refuses to talk about Ryan.”