A Million Little Lies
Bette Lee Crosby
Bent Pine Publishing
A MILLION LITTLE LIES
Copyright © 2020 by Bette Lee Crosby
Cover design: damonza.com
Formatting by Author E.M.S.
Editor: Ekta Garg
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages for a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
ISBN-978-0-9960803-0-9
BENT PINE PUBLISHING
Port Saint Lucie, FL
Published in the United States of America
Table of Contents
A MILLION LITTLE LIES
Copyright
Dedication
Sun Grove, Florida
May 1960, Sun Grove, Florida
Cousins, Georgia
Just One Night
Sun Grove, Florida
The Next Morning
Finding Family
Oh, Suzanna, Tell Another Lie
Becoming Darla Jean
No More Waiting
The Decision
Opening a Door
The Third Floor
Changing Times – The Rental
Searching for Suzanna
Getting to Know You
William’s Will
Fear of Ginger
Cavalier’s Couture
The Search Begins
The Start of Something Good
The Harvest Festival
Piney Acres Problems
A Family Thanksgiving
Foolish Fears
The Fashion Show
A Christmas to Remember
Remembering Suzanna
The Locket
Finding Suzanna
Tuesday, January 10, 1961
Shattered Dreams
Without a Word
An Eye-Opening Revelation
Starting Over
Saying Goodbye to the Past
Finding Courage
Finding Bobby Doherty
Wishes Come True – Spring 1961
A note from the Publisher…
Other Books by Bette Lee Crosby
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To the women of my PSL Posse
There can be no finer gift than that of friendship.
Thank you…
Joanne Bliven
Kathy Foslien
Lynn Ontiveros
Trudy Southe
“Which is worse—a lie that draws a smile
or a truth that draws a tear?”
Bryan Bedford
Miracle on 34th Street
Suzanna
Sun Grove, Florida
IN THE WEEKS FOLLOWING HER mama’s death, ten-year-old Suzanna Duff learned to lie as convincingly as any con man who’d ever walked the earth. When neighbors came with cakes, fruit baskets, and casseroles, she smiled politely and said she and her daddy were doing just fine. Never once did she mention that on the few nights when he did manage to make it home, he came in rip-roaring drunk and in a thunderous mood.
To Suzanna her lie was not a deception but a necessary altering of the truth; a way to shade the ugliness of her life and make it appear somewhat normal. She was following in her mama’s footsteps, smoothing the road she had to travel, avoiding questions or confrontation.
They were tiny little lies that seemed harmless, rather like a game of Let’s Pretend or Charades. She signed her daddy’s name on her report cards, told tales of a vacation that never took place, and boasted of a kindly grandmother who didn’t exist. But as time passed the lies grew larger, more substantial and solid. They built one upon another like the stones of a pyramid until they reached the pinnacle and left her with nowhere to go.
Now she fears it would be impossible to undo what has been done. Every waking moment her conscience urges her to tell the truth and be done with it. Do it for Annie, the small voice whispers, but Suzanna is wary of the consequences so she turns on the radio and sings along to silence the thought.
She knows the truth will cause a great deal of unhappiness and hurt those she loves. That’s something she won’t do, so she builds lie upon lie, pretending to be someone else, answering to a name that’s not hers, and constantly looking over her shoulder. She dreads the day when the truth comes knocking at the door, and it will. She’s almost certain of it.
It seems ironic that after so many years, the situation she now finds herself in began not with an outright lie but a mere slip of the tongue, a simple omission of truth.
Suzanna Duff
May 1960, Sun Grove, Florida
THE SKY WAS STILL DARK when Suzanna Duff eased herself from beneath the weight of Earl’s arm and inched her way to the far side of the bed. Hesitating a moment, she listened for the sound of sleep to return. He wheezed, gave a groan, then turned on his side and went back to snoring. Believing it safe enough to make her move, she climbed from the bed and silently crossed the room.
His pants were tossed over the chair, the same as always. She cradled the belt buckle so it wouldn’t fall to the floor or clank against the wood of the chair, slid her hand into the pocket, and pulled out a folded wad of bills. Not stopping long enough to count how much he had this time, she tiptoed from the room and made her way down the hall to where Annie was sleeping.
Suzanna kneeled beside the bed and pulled out the things she’d stashed there a day earlier: sandals, a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and the old brown suitcase that had once belonged to her mama. She dressed quickly, slid the folded bills into the pocket of her jeans, then leaned over the child and whispered, “Wake up, baby, we’ve got to go.”
Annie was seven but smarter than most. She’d already learned that when her mama held a finger to her lips, there was a need for silence. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and in a hopeful voice asked, “Can Bobo come too?”
Eyeing the stuffed dog the child held in her arms, Suzanna gave a reluctant nod.
“Okay, but if you bring Bobo, you’ve got to promise to carry him yourself.”
Annie grinned, showing the spot where her front teeth were missing. “I promise.”
It was almost three miles to the highway and there was a possibility she would have to carry Annie part of the way, so Suzanna took nothing she didn’t absolutely need. It meant leaving behind the photo album she cherished, the milk pitcher that belonged to a grandma she’d never met, and most of their clothes, but it was a choice she’d made; not an easy choice, but one she was determined to stick to. Suzanna knew that somewhere out there was the life she was supposed to live but it wasn’t here, and it sure as hell wasn’t with Earl Fagan.
——————
ROUTE 70 WAS A NARROW road frequented mostly by grove trucks hauling oranges or cattle off to market. One lane ran west, the other east, and on any given day you could stand there for twenty minutes with nothing but overloaded citrus haulers passing you by splatting grapefruits along the road. Suzanna hoped that would not be the case this morning. In fact, she was counting on it. Before noon, before Earl woke and discovered them missing, they had to be long gone from Sun Grove. East or west made no difference; they’
d go whichever way a driver was headed, then head north once they were safely away from Earl.
Stopping alongside a clump of palmetto bushes, Suzanna set the suitcase a few feet back from the road and told Annie to squat down beside it.
“Pretend we’re playing hide and seek,” she said and then stepped out onto the road, craning her neck to catch sight of a vehicle headed their way. After several minutes, a tanker headed west came into view. She crossed the road, stood on the westbound side of the blacktop, curled her mouth into a sexy-looking smile, and stuck her thumb out.
The tanker rolled by without slowing.
After the tanker, there were two fully loaded citrus carriers, a Buick headed east, and, behind it, a red pickup that slowed and rolled to a stop twenty yards past Suzanna. Grabbing the suitcase and motioning for Annie to follow along, she hurried toward the truck.
“Thanks for stopping,” she said as she yanked open the door.
The driver, a man with sun-weathered skin and dark stubble covering his chin, gave a nod. “Where you headed?”
“Jersey.” Suzanna stuffed the suitcase behind the seat then hoisted Annie up.
A look of surprise flickered across the trucker’s face. “Where’d she come from?”
Catching the sound of apprehension in his voice, Suzanna scrambled into the seat and closed the door before he had time to change his mind. “Don’t worry, she’s a good kid and won’t be any bother.”
With his forehead furrowed and a look of concern settling on his face, he pulled back onto the road, drove for a mile or so, then asked, “What’s your name, kid?”
“Her name’s Annie,” Suzanna answered before Annie had the chance. “And before you go getting any weird ideas, I’m her mama.”
“Let the kid answer for herself.” He glanced down at Annie. “That true? Is she really your mama?”
Annie nodded.
“You don’t have to be afraid of telling the truth. If she’s stealing you away from your family, speak up. I’ll see you get back to where you belong.”
Annie giggled. “Mama, he said—”
“I heard what he said,” Suzanna replied. She looked across with an icy glare. “You’ve got balls suggesting a thing like that. I appreciate the ride, but that doesn’t give you the right to—”
“Hold on, missy! I’m just concerned for the kid’s welfare. Most parents with children travel by car or on the bus; they don’t stand out on the road thumbing—”
“If they’ve got money enough for a bus ticket, good for them,” Suzanna snapped.
No one said anything more, and several minutes lumbered by before he broke the silence.
“Sorry. I was thinking about my own kids. Maria and me, we got three girls, and I worry about them all the time. The youngest, she’s eight.” He pointed to a snapshot rubber-banded to the visor. “That’s them,” he said and smiled.
The rigid set of Suzanna’s mouth softened. “Sometimes I’m too touchy. No harm done.”
He introduced himself as Joe, said he was only going as far as Georgia, then started talking about his family and how his girls were growing like weeds.
“Before you know it, they’ll be married and gone,” he said sadly.
An easy exchange of words followed, but Suzanna offered little about her haphazard life and nothing about Earl. She glossed over the past and focused on the future.
“Once we get to Jersey, I’m gonna look for a job taking pictures or maybe designing ads like you see in magazines.”
“Nice,” he said. “How’d you get into a profession like that?”
“Well, I’m not actually in it yet.” She looked over with a mischievous grin. “But I figured I could fudge it a bit. You know, everybody’s got to start somewhere. I’m real creative, and I’ve got an eye for design.”
“Good for you.” He laughed. “Good for you.”
Shortly after they crossed the Georgia line, he asked where they were going in Jersey.
“Hoboken,” Suzanna answered.
The sorry truth was she’d left home knowing only that she had to get away from Earl. Beyond that she had no plans; at least nothing concrete. Gladys, a onetime friend she’d worked with before Annie was born, had moved to Hoboken three years ago. They’d stayed in touch for a while, but the last postcard was almost two years ago. She had to hope Gladys hadn’t married or moved on since then.
Forcing a smile, she said, “We’re planning to stay with a friend ’til I get a job. Once I’m set with a steady income, we’ll find a place of our own.”
Not long after they’d passed through Ben Hill County, Joe turned off the highway and headed west. Fifteen minutes later, after a long stretch of sparsely-traveled road, they came to a sign that read, Welcome to Cousins, Georgia – Population 16,897.
The center of town was a lineup of stores: the Ben Franklin five-and-dime, a Piggly Wiggly market, a barber with a revolving pole out front, a quilt shop, and several others. Halfway down the street, Joe pulled over in front of the bus station, a squat brown building one quarter the size of the Piggly Wiggly.
“Sorry, missy,” he said, “this is as far as I go.”
“Maybe you should drop us off back by the highway,” Suzanna suggested. “It’d be easier to catch a ride.”
He shook his head, not letting his eyes meet hers.
“Not a good idea,” he said. “With a sweet little girl like Annie, you ought not be hitchhiking. You got lucky this time, but there’s no telling what…” As his words drifted off, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a billfold, and handed Suzanna a 20-dollar bill. “This here’s enough for a bus ticket—”
“I’m not looking for charity!”
“And I’m not giving any. I just don’t want it on my conscience if something happens to one of you.” He pushed the 20 dollars into Suzanna’s palm then grinned. “There’s probably a northbound bus leaving sometime today, and you’d be a lot better off taking that than chancing it on the road.”
Suzanna hefted her suitcase from behind the seat, then stood watching as he drove off.
With his 20 dollars and the 18 dollars she’d taken from Earl’s pocket, she had enough for a bus ticket but money would still be tight. They had a thousand miles yet to go; they’d have to eat, and if Gladys wasn’t around they’d need a place to stay, a motel room maybe. Taking those things into consideration, 38 dollars didn’t seem like very much.
With Annie’s hand in hers, Suzanna reluctantly walked into the bus station. At least they could freshen up in the ladies’ room. Then, depending on cost and scheduling, they’d either buy a bus ticket or start hoofing it back toward the highway.
——————
AS SUZANNA STOOD AT THE ticket window, the clerk adjusted his glasses and peered across the counter. Glancing down at Annie then back to her, he said, “Fourteen-forty for an adult. She rides for free.”
As she was digging through her pocket for the singles she’d taken from Earl, he added, “Next bus is tomorrow, 10:30 a.m.”
“Tomorrow? You don’t have one leaving today?”
“Afraid not. The New York-New Jersey bus is once a day, 10:30 a.m.”
“What about if we’re willing to make a transfer?”
He shook his head. “Too late. The last northbound passed through 11:15. The only others we’ve got today are a 4:30 headed for Chicago or a 6:15 to Omaha.”
“No thanks,” Suzanna said and turned away.
“You want the New Jersey ticket?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
She walked to the far end of the waiting room and plopped down on a bench; Annie sat beside her. With the sun blistering hot, the walk back to the highway would be a long one, but sitting in the bus station overnight was not much better. Besides, they hadn’t eaten all day, and she could hear Annie’s stomach rumbling.
She looked down with a half-hearted smile. “You’re hungry, aren’t you, baby?”
Annie nodded. “Starving.”
As Suzanna s
at there considering which was the better of the two really bad options, she spied a flyer left lying on the bench.
William G. Parker MEMORIAL LUNCHEON the heading read, and beneath it was the photo of an elderly gentleman. The copy went on to list all of the man’s achievements then said that anyone who had ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with William Parker was invited to attend. The luncheon was to be an open-house buffet held at the Elks Club on Main Street.
Open-house buffet?
Suzanna called over to the ticket window. “Is this Main Street?”
When the clerk nodded, she inquired how far it was to the Elks Club.
“Two blocks down, right hand side of the street,” he answered.
Believing that providence had for once stepped in and was squarely on her side, Suzanna smiled. Fifteen minutes later, they walked out of the station with her wearing the one dress she’d thought to pack and Annie outfitted in a fresh pair of shorts. The tattered brown suitcase was now stashed in a bus station locker.
“We’ll go to this luncheon, have ourselves a nice big meal, then find a park and pretend we’re camping out,” she told Annie. “Tomorrow morning we’ll wake up nice and fresh, come back to the station, climb on the bus, and be in New Jersey before you know it.”
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