Page 88 of Crossing the Line
Answers
Hercules Lord
PG gapes at me as if I should know the answer to why her grandmother is standing in front of us, wearing a pink robe.Does she live here?If not, then she sure has made herself at home. I’m just as shocked as she is to see her grandmother inside my grandfather’s house.
“Oh dear,” Paisley’s grandmother says. Her face is flushed as she pinches her top lip. Every so often, I catch Paisley doing the same thing.
“What are you doing here?” Paisley screeches.
Mouth caught open, her grandmother’s confused eyes shift from Paisley to me and then back to Paisley.
“What is it, hon?” my grandfather calls and then enters the foyer as if he hasn’t a care in the world. He’s wearing a plaid robe and pajama bottoms. He looks flabbergasted when he sees me. “Hercules?”
“Yeah,” I say, my mind racing, still putting the pieces together. Then I realize Paisley and I have stumbled into a favorable predicament.
* * *
After Bartleby deliversthe bread and Geneva serves breakfast, Paisley and I sit at the table with our grandparents. Bartleby’s biscuits with blueberry jam and strawberry preserves, light and fluffy scrambled eggs, home fries, and bacon are before us. Paisley, who I know was hungry before, hasn’t touched a thing. I understand why she isn’t eating because I, too, have lost my appetite. I need our grandfather to explain why Leslie Grove is at the table with us and not at a wildlife preserve on the other side of the world.
My grandfather, who has the vitality of a man almost half his age, sits stiffly in his chair. I understand that he’s not happy to see me. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t be happy to see me either.
“You should’ve called, Hercules,” he grumbles.
I smile smugly. “I’m sure you would’ve answered the door if I had.”
My grandfather scowls. He didn’t like my response. I’m not used to speaking to him that way, but the situation we found them in reeks of deception, one that has probably been going on for years.
“Okay. You said you’ll explain once we were seated. Now, explain yourselves, please,” Paisley says, cutting to the chase. Her face is bloodless. I’m worried about her—especially after how she broke down at Friday’s hearing.
Leslie extends an arm toward Paisley. Her limb isn’t long enough to reach her, though. Our grandparents pass each other a look, and then Paisley and I exchange a similar leery glance. But Paisley… she looks exhausted.
“Well…” Leslie starts and then sits taller. “Hugo and I are together.”
“I can see that,” Paisley retorts briskly and then squeezes her eyes closed. When she opens them, she looks at my grandfather. “Are you Garnet?”
All the blood seems to drain from Hugo’s face. “What do you know about Garnet?”
“I found letters from Garnet to you, Grandmother. Have the two of you been lovers since before…?” Paisley frowns as if her thoughts sting.
I’m about to call out to her and suggest we go for a walk, take a break, and get some crisp, cool air before we continue chomping at this elephant one bite at a time.
But then in a small voice that’s almost as soft as a breeze, Leslie says, “Yes.”
Paisley goes stiff, and so do I.
“If you’re asking whether I was in love with Hugo before I married Charles, then the answer is yes.”
Paisley turns to look at me. But it’s as if she’s seeing right through me before she turns her ire back on her grandmother. “Then why did you even marry him?”
“Because…” Leslie starts but then sits up straight as though she’s considering how she feels about answering to her granddaughter.
“Leslie married Charles because I couldn’t be with her.”
Suddenly, I’m struck by illumination and ask, “Was Grandmother your cousin?”
My grandfather nods briskly.
“Fifth or sixth?”
