16
Mrs. Jameson spurted, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t figure out whether to speak or spit. She shook her head, her cheeks turning red as she grimaced and groaned.
Finally, she looked up at me with the same fire Finley would get in her eyes. Her mouth was set in an angry slant. “Your father is a damn liar,” she said.
I leaned back and shrugged. “Why would he tell me that if it weren’t true?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that your mother loved you and would have done anything for you. And she loved your father.”
“The stories I’ve been told have been a little different.”
“Well, those stories were wrong. Your mother was a beautiful woman. She was kind and generous and caring. She was one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. But she had struggles. She didn’t
