“No. Who is he?” Grace’s fingers stilled as she studied him and he gave her a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road, shaking his head.
“You’ll need to ask her.”
Silence fell again. Mason turned on a classical music station, thinking she’d like it, his thoughts once again on his brother. People all had different perspectives, based on how they saw the world, how they perceived events that happened, their belief systems, their upbringings. Maybe Bruce really did see things as he said they were. Maybe his versions of the truth weren’t deliberately misleading or manipulative reframing for self-gain.
Could be he was just a bit needy when it came to those he loved, never fully believing they’d love him back, or as much as he loved them. Mason wasn’t a shrink, but he knew enough to figure that Bruce’s behavior, his reframing of certain truths, could be how he really saw the world.
Mason had listened to enough confessions in interrogation rooms to understand how people’s minds could play with them. And now Bruce might have to hear that he wasn’t Brianna’s father. Mason could only imagine what that kind of blow would do to the guy.
Unless… Bruce didn’t have to know. Did he?
Except that if Mason was Brianna’s father, the child had a right to know. At least when she was old enough for it to matter. At a minimum, Mason was going to be financially responsible for her. That much had already been decided, he reminded himself.
And what about Harper? Did anyone ever consider what she needed? What was best for her? She’d never given any indication of how she’d feel if he was the father of her child.
She’d never said a word to suggest that some part of her would be glad. Or that she had any regard for him at all. If you discounted the silent messages passing between them the night they’d been at the bar near her home. And, again, when they’d worked out together.
He had a strong sense that she wanted him.
Was he, like his brother, reframing the world to fit his own self-image? Thinking Harper wanted him because he wanted her? And even if it was true…he couldn’t start anything with her, make his little brother watch them together.
But God, he wanted her! Worse than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
So, if minds conjured up their own perceptions, what about the whole Gram thing? Had he been so quick to jump on Bruce as the guilty party because some part of him needed to find fault with his brother, so he wouldn’t have to feel bad about wanting his brother’s wife?
Ex-wife.
Could it be possible that Mason was far more disloyal than he’d realized?
“You ever ask Gram to go skydiving with you?” The question burst into the silence as Mason, desperate to get his mind under control, focused on the woman at his side, on the reason they were together.
Elmer on a camera was circumstantial evidence. They were going to need more than that to convince the court to take any action against him, any action to protect Gram. Mason knew he was a pretty damned good interrogator, showing his suspects the pieces of the puzzle and how they all fit together, but he couldn’t count on the older man to confess what he’d done.
Gram wasn’t talking, but even Mason knew that if anyone could get through to Gram, it would be Grace. Her longtime best friend. While Gram was away from whatever influence had turned her against Grace to begin with.
Why Elmer would have cause to do that remained to be seen. Could be as simple as Gram not wanting anyone to know that she’d fallen prey to someone’s abuse; from what he’d gleaned that week, shame and self-blame were common reasons a victim didn’t speak out. Gram had always prided herself on being a strong, independent woman…
Grace hadn’t answered. She was staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
“That last time she and I talked… I told her about a woman who’d gone skydiving for her ninetieth birthday. She accused me of trying to convince her to do things she didn’t feel comfortable doing.”
Because someone else was trying to convince her to do things she felt uncomfortable doing? Elmer Guthrie, for instance?
“I thought at the time that she was just picking a fight with me, you know, because I’d put too much pressure on her about how Bruce was mistreating her.” Grace paused again, her fingers and the puff of yarn still in her lap. “I blame myself,” she said softly. “I know Miriam better than anyone. Love her as much as I’ve ever loved anyone. If she was already being pressured, I should’ve been the one who was supportive and understanding—not doing the exact same thing to her.”