A Million Little Lies

by Bette Lee Crosby

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” she said. “How wonderful it must be to live in a place like this.”

  Ida gave a sorrowful-sounding sigh. “It was, until Bill passed away. But being here alone makes it feel a bit like a mausoleum.”

  Having grown up in a house that was a handful of nails from falling down, Suzanna couldn’t imagine being unhappy in such a grand house.

  “You got any kids?” Annie asked.

  Ida chuckled. “Afraid not, but if you’re looking for a playmate I’ve got something even better.” She slid her key in, twisted the lock, and before the door was fully open, a brown and white spotted dog came charging out. His bark was bigger than his body, and he had a tail that never stopped wagging.

  Annie gave a squeal of delight. “Can I play with him?”

  “Absolutely. His name is Scout, and he loves to play.” She stepped inside and Scout followed. “There’s a ball here somewhere…” She glanced around the living room then shrugged. “It might have rolled under the sofa, and Scout’s afraid to go under there.”

  “I’m not. I can get it.” Annie dropped down on her knees, lifted the skirt, and peered into the darkness. “Found it!” She scooted herself under the sofa then reappeared with dust bunnies stuck to the front of her shirt.

  “Oh dear,” Ida said, “I guess my housekeeping leaves a lot to be desired, but with Bill being sick for so long…”

  The way her words trailed off made Suzanna wonder if there was something more to the story, something left unsaid. But, she reminded herself, she would be here for one night, so it would be better if there were no questions asked and none answered.

  Once Annie was preoccupied with the dog, Ida took Suzanna on a guided tour of the house. As they walked from room to room, she mentioned tiny flaws that to Suzanna seemed invisible: the cracked leather on William’s favorite chair, bookshelves in need of painting, and windows that needed washing.

  As Ida told of the summer William planted hydrangeas along the front of the house and how he’d fenced in the yard so Scout would have a safe place to run free, Suzanna wondered why anyone would leave a daddy like that. It could only be someone as callous and uncaring as her own father. She’d been right in thinking of them as one and the same person.

  Later that evening, with Annie fast asleep in the upstairs bedroom, Suzanna sat across from Ida Parker listening to tales of the granddaddy she never had. She pictured William a tall man with gentle hands and a kind heart and imagined herself part of the family. She could envision him buying her ice cream cones, teaching her to ride a bike, and lifting her onto his broad shoulders. When Ida told of how on her christening day the four of them had stood side by side at the altar as Pastor Henderson repeated the name Darla Jean Parker, the scene became as vivid as a movie unspooling inside her head. By the time she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her second cup of tea, she was all but convinced that, much like her own mama, the mild-mannered Caroline had been bullied and bossed about by a tyrannical husband.

  It was almost midnight when she kissed Ida’s cheek and said, “Goodnight, Grandma.” Throughout the evening she’d told herself it was a game of pretense, something to enjoy for a day or two before moving on, but she’d turned a blind eye to the truth.

  Earlier that afternoon there had been a moment when it was still possible for her to have explained the misconception, but she didn’t. The thought was there, the words on the very tip of her tongue, but she pushed them back. She’d seen the grin on Annie’s face and figured, what harm could it do?

  That night as she snuggled beneath a quilt stitched with roses and lavender ribbons, a tiny voice at the back of her mind warned that she was opening the door to trouble.

  The real Darla Jean could show up at any time, the voice said. Then what?

  She won’t, Suzanna reasoned. Tommy’s family had been gone 25 years. There was no earthly reason why any of them would come back now.

  Really? the voice argued.

  Pushing aside the troublesome thoughts, Suzanna hushed the voice then turned on her side and closed her eyes. Tomorrow morning they’d be gone, and that would be the end of that. It was not something she had to worry about.

  As she drifted on the edge of sleep, the voice again whispered, Really?

  Earl Fagan

  Sun Grove, Florida

  WITH THE HOUSE QUIET AS it was and the raging headache that came from mixing beer and whiskey, Earl didn’t hear the front door click shut when Suzanna left. In fact, he didn’t even stir until almost 1 p.m. that afternoon. When he finally did open one eye, he saw the empty bourbon bottle on the nightstand and started to remember the events of the previous night.

  “Crap,” he groaned and rolled onto his other side.

  This was going to be a bad day; he was certain of it. The best he could hope for was Suzanna giving him the cold shoulder, maybe go a day or two without speaking, but that was unlikely. Not after last night.

  He cringed, remembering how he’d come home with a buzz on, fell over the end table, and sent the lamp crashing to the floor. There he was, face down in the middle of all that broken glass, but instead of showing some concern for him she started yelling about the damn lamp. One word led to another, and that’s when she called him a hopeless drunk.

  “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” she said. “You’re way worse than my daddy!”

  Earl knew he should have ignored her and gone to bed, except he didn’t. Her saying that bothered him; it was the kind of thing that got under his skin and made him feel like he’d slept in a bed of poison oak. He could already feel the blisters rising up. Instead of walking away like he should have, he gave her a taste of what she’d given him.

  “Seems to me a girl who’s knocked up don’t have a whole lot of choices.”

  The worst of it was, he didn’t stop there. When she came back at him with a smart-ass answer, he smacked her upside the head. Smacked, not punched. There was a red mark on her cheek, that was it. But as luck would have it, Annie saw it happen. She’d been standing in the doorway for less than a minute, but it happened to be that minute. As soon as he yelled at her for being out of bed, she hightailed it back to her room.

  The kid seeing the fight is what sent Suzanna over the edge. Thinking back on it, Earl regretted the slap; he should have let her have her say, then walked off. But with Suzanna it wasn’t that easy. Once a fight got going, she didn’t back down. She kept right on screaming; first it was about the lamp, then she went off on this tangent about how a child can’t un-see something they’ve already seen.

  “I don’t want my daughter to grow up believing it’s okay for some asshole drunk to slap her around! She deserves better than what I got!”

  It wasn’t like he didn’t try to smooth things over; he did. He even offered to buy a new lamp, something nicer than the piece of junk they had, but that wasn’t good enough.

  “I don’t want a new lamp,” she screamed. “I want a new life.”

  “Screw you!” he said. “You want a new life? Then go find Annie’s daddy and see if he’s willing to give it to you!”

  Maybe he shouldn’t have said what he did, but at that point he’d had enough.

  Things got a whole lot uglier after that. This morning, with his head feeling like it was ready to split open, he was in no mood for rehashing the whole stinking mess. Hopefully she wouldn’t drag it out for another two days.

  Earl pulled himself up to a sitting position, then grunted and shook his head. Days like this, it seemed like getting out of bed was hardly worth the effort.

  “Suzanna,” he hollered, “bring me a cup of coffee.”

  No answer. That meant he was getting the silent treatment. Better than the alternative.

  Tromping through the house in his underwear, he called out again. Still no answer. He expected to find her sulking in the kitchen or in the back yard with her nose in a book to prove she was ignoring him, but she was in neither of those places. He checked the laundry room, then Annie’s room, but she was now
here to be found.

  With a grumble of annoyance, he turned back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Suzanna made a full pot every morning; she drank one cup and left the rest for him. Except this morning the pot was empty. Not just empty, but washed clean as if it had never been used.

  “What the hell…” For few seconds Earl stood there letting it register. Then he slammed the empty pot back down on the counter and grumbled, “Nice, Suzanna, real nice. Watch what being spiteful gets you!”

  Desperately in need of coffee, he returned to the bedroom, pulled on his jeans, then got in the car and headed for Angie’s Luncheonette.

  Still feeling the pinch of Suzanna’s spitefulness, he ordered coffee and a sweet roll then sat there fuming. He was determined Suzanna would get payback for this morning’s stunt but was not yet sure how he’d go about it. One thing was certain: this time he was not going to apologize for what happened last night.

  After downing four cups of coffee and two cinnamon rolls, he was ready to take on the day. He stood and asked, “What do I owe you, Angie?”

  “Seventy-five cents.”

  Earl liked Angie; he especially liked the way she’d lean across the counter giving him a look-see at her boobs as she poured the coffee. She was a woman who knew how to get on the good side of a man, and that was something he appreciated. Reaching into his pocket for the folded bills, he figured he’d slap a dollar down on the counter and tell her to keep the change but the money he’d had last night was gone. Not in the right pocket, nor the left. He fished through the back pockets; nothing. There was a bit of loose change in the right front pocket, but the bills were gone.

  A single thought crossed his mind: Suzanna. Was it possible she’d pull a stunt as stupid as this? She’d never done it before, but then she’d never deliberately left the coffee pot empty either. The more he thought about the possibility of her taking the money, the angrier he got.

  Trying to hide the anger rising up inside of him, he forced a smile and said, “Angie baby, looks like I went off without any money. Okay if I catch up next time?”

  She sashayed over and leaned across the counter. “And if I’m willing to wait until next time, what’s in it for me?”

  Most days he would have answered such a provocative question with an equally suggestive answer but not today.

  “A fat tip,” he said, then disappeared through the door.

  Earl went home, searched the house looking for the missing money or a clue as to where Suzanna had gone, but he came up dry on both counts. As far as he could tell, nothing else was missing, so where could she have gone with a seven-year-old kid and only eighteen bucks in her pocket?

  The thought of her doing this as revenge for him being a little short-tempered settled into his brain and sizzled like an egg on a hot griddle. He had half a mind to toss her crap out onto the front lawn and let it get soaked by the evening rain. By now she probably knew what a stupid mistake she’d made, and it would serve her right to find those sopping wet clothes and have to haul them back into the house. If she didn’t come back until tomorrow, all the better. By then the hot sun would bake the mud into her dresses, and they’d be ruined.

  She’d be back, he had no doubt of that; if not today, then tomorrow or the next day. When the money gave out, she’d come dragging her sorry ass home. She’d have to; there was nowhere else to go. Her daddy had said goodbye and good riddance before Annie was born, and her friends, if you could call them friends, were neighbors who’d think twice about getting involved in a family spat.

  Earl glanced at the clock: 3 p.m. He had to be at the bowling alley by four. With the thought of seeing her clothes scattered across the lawn still sizzling in his brain, he begrudgingly pulled his Beer n’ Bowl manager’s shirt from the closet and got dressed. As he stood in front of the mirror and slicked back his hair, he vowed to get even, to pay Suzanna back for the aggravation she’d caused him.

  “Nobody crosses Earl Fagan and gets away with it,” he grumbled then snatched his keys from atop the dresser and headed for the car.

  That night when the bowling alley closed, he stopped at Maloney’s for a few drinks, just as he always did. But this night he drank almost twice as much and stayed until they closed the place. As he stumbled toward the door, Maloney said he was in no condition to drive and offered to give him a lift home.

  “Don’t bodder.” A bit of spittle shot from Earl’s mouth, and the words were so slurred they were barely understandable.

  With a grunt of disgust, Maloney shook his head then took Earl by the arm and hauled him off.

  “No bother,” he said. “It’s on my way.”

  When they pulled into Earl’s drive, Maloney eyed the house. Pitch black, no porch light, no lamp in the window, nothing.

  “Seems Suzanna got tired of waiting up and went to bed.”

  That thought made Earl angrier than ever. “When I get hold of her, she’ll get more than tired. She’ll get her face bashed in!”

  “Hold on now, don’t go saying something you don’t mean—”

  Earl shouldered the car door, pushed it open, and started to climb out. Hesitating long enough for a glance back, he said, “I ain’t just bullshittin’. She deserves it.”

  A look of concern flitted across Maloney’s face. “That’s jackass talk.”

  He climbed out of the car, circled around, and again took Earl by the arm. “Let’s get you to bed before you get your fool self into trouble.”

  Built like a bull, Maloney hoisted Earl up the steps and into the house. When Earl started toward the bedroom, Maloney grabbed him and shoved him into the recliner.

  “Stay there, and don’t go bothering Suzanna when she’s asleep.”

  “Asleep?” Earl guffawed. “She ain’t asleep, she’s gone. Stole money outta my pocket and took off.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Suzanna—”

  Earl cut in, saying he’d woke up that same morning to find both her and his money missing. He told of how he’d searched the house and found nothing. No clue as to where she’d gone and no note explaining why she’d leave. He didn’t mention the row they’d had the night before, nor did he say that it wasn’t the first time he’d whacked her across the face.

  Lowering himself onto the sofa opposite Earl, Maloney shook his head sympathetically. “I’m surprised at Suzanna doing such a thing. She seemed like a nice woman, a good mama.”

  “She’s good enough to the kid,” Earl grumbled, “but when it comes to me, that’s a whole other story.”

  With someone willing to listen, Earl went on and on telling of Suzanna’s faults until smack in the middle of a sentence, he dozed off.

  That was just moments after he’d told Maloney he was all but certain she’d come crawling back.

  Suzanna

  The Next Morning

  SUZANNA NEVER INTENDED TO STAY more than just one night. It was fun pretending to be Ida’s granddaughter, and sleeping in a comfy bed was far better than a wooden bench at the bus station, but when morning came her first thought was to leave before anyone discovered she was not who they thought her to be. She climbed from the bed, pulled on the dress she’d worn yesterday, and hurried across to the room where Annie had slept.

  She expected to find her still curled beneath the blanket with her thumb in her mouth, but the bed was empty. Not just empty, but made, with the corners of the coverlet tucked neatly in place and the pillows plumped. A feeling of dread took hold of Suzanna’s heart. There was no telling what Annie would say. Hurrying down the staircase, she called for her.

  Before the answer came, she heard the trill of childish laughter coming from the kitchen. Rounding the corner, she saw them sitting side by side, their heads together and both of them grinning as if they’d shared the most delicious secret.

  “Annie,” she said nervously, “are you pestering Mrs. Parker when she’s got a dozen other things to do?”

  Annie giggled. “Mama, you’re not ’posed to call Grandma Mrs. Parker.”


  Ida looked up. “I hope you don’t mind that I told her to call me Grandma.”

  Trying to push back the edginess that made her voice sound high-pitched and panicky, Suzanna gave a lighthearted laugh. “No. No, of course not. Why would I mind? I just hope she hasn’t made a pest of herself. Annie can talk your ear off if given half a chance.”

  “Not at all, she’s a delight. She’s been telling me how you stopped a trucker on the road and caught a ride.” Ida chuckled as she stood and pulled a mug from the cupboard. “You’ve got your granddaddy’s spunk, that’s for sure. When Bill wanted to get something done, he rolled up his sleeves and did it. Nothing wishy-washy about that man. Your daddy, well, now, he’s another story.”

  Ida shook her head as if remembering something, then set the mug on the table, filled it with coffee, and motioned for Suzanna to sit. “Breakfast is ready. We’ve got blueberry pancakes and country ham, but if you’d rather I can fix bacon and eggs.”

  A bit unnerved by Annie’s chattiness, Suzanna hesitated a moment. She glanced at the clock on the wall: 8:30. Enough time for a quick breakfast, and they could still make the 10:30 bus.

  “Pancakes would be perfect.”

  She slid into the chair across from where Annie was sitting. Ida was every bit as pleasant as she’d been last night, so apparently the tale of them hitchhiking had not aroused any new suspicions. Feeling a bit of relief, Suzanna sipped her coffee and eased back into the role of being Darla Jean. They were halfway through breakfast when Annie dropped a bombshell.

  “Guess what, Mama? Grandma has pictures from when you was a baby.”

  Suzanna tried to smile, but it felt as though she were about to choke on the chunk of pancake she’d just swallowed. Beads of nervous perspiration rose on her forehead, and now, more than ever, she felt the need to get going.

  “Wonderful,” she squeaked. The word was thready and too high pitched. “I’d love to stay and see them, but we’ve got to be leaving in a few minutes.”