A Million Little Lies

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “No need for all of us to get wet,” Gregg said. “There’s nothing you can do; go back inside, and let me take care of this.”

  Ida tugged Suzanna onto the porch; then they turned back to watch.

  Portnick, an elderly man with stooped shoulders and a hangdog expression, gave a weary sigh.

  “I suppose that’s your car,” he said.

  Gregg nodded. “Afraid so.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be parked there.” Before he could say anything more, a sudden gust of wind took Portnick’s hat and sent it tumbling down the street.

  “Figures,” he mumbled and shook his head. “That was my lucky hat.”

  “Want me to try and catch it?” Gregg asked.

  Portnick shook his head. “Too late. Whatever luck it had must’ve ran out, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” He stood there looking as pitiful as possible, then said, “I’m real sorry about your car.”

  “What happened?”

  “Can’t say for sure. I was all set to back out of my garage; looked and saw the way was clear, then I heard that noise, and my car was smacked into yours. I don’t see so good at night, and what with the rain and all…”

  “Accidents happen. I’m sure your insurance will cover it.”

  Portnick eyed the two women standing on the porch, then nervously leaned in and said, “See, that’s a problem. There is no insurance.”

  “No insurance? Why—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got money enough to have your car fixed, and I’ll pay.”

  “But why don’t you have insurance? Everyone has—”

  “Not everyone,” Portnick said solemnly. “You get old, and they make you take a new driving test. Mess up on those questions, and they won’t give you a license.”

  “You don’t have a license either?”

  Portnick shook his head. “That’s why I’m hoping you won’t see a need to report this to the police.”

  Gregg stood there for a moment, fingering his chin and looking at the crumpled condition of his car.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “I won’t report the accident based on two conditions.”

  “Anything.”

  “First off, you do have to pay to have my car fixed, and secondly, you have to agree to go back and get that driver’s license.”

  “What if I still don’t pass?”

  “Oh, you’ll pass this time.” Gregg looked up and grinned at Ida. “Mrs. Parker and I will coach you until you can answer those questions without thinking twice.”

  Portnick beamed. “That’s a fair enough deal.”

  “One more thing,” Gregg added. “There’s no more driving until you get your license and some insurance.”

  Gregg came inside, called for a tow truck, then got behind the wheel of Portnick’s Buick and pulled it into the garage. Although Gregg’s car had a good-size dent in the door, Portnick’s had a pencil thin scratch on the fender.

  After the tow truck hauled the Olds away, Ida brought out a bottle of brandy that had belonged to William and poured everyone a drink. As the three of them sat around the kitchen table discussing how they’d have to keep an eye on Homer Portnick, Gregg mentioned that he’d arrange for a rental car tomorrow.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Ida said. “Darla Jean will drive you back and forth until your car’s been repaired.”

  He glanced over at Suzanna and smiled. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

  Suzanna was sure. Very sure.

  ——————

  WITH THE LONG DRIVE BACK and forth to Barston, Suzanna and Gregg found time to talk in a way they hadn’t done before. Each morning after she dropped him off at the school, she’d return home and find herself counting the hours until it was time to go back.

  For a reason that she couldn’t put her finger on, she felt comfortable with Gregg. The kind of comfortable she’d felt with her mama. He listened without judging; he encouraged her to talk but never pried. He told her about his childhood, a girl he’d once been engaged to, and the loneliness he’d felt after his parents were gone.

  When the conversation fell to her, Suzanna skipped around, telling bits and pieces of her life but nothing in its entirety. She spoke of Bobby Doherty in the broadest strokes, saying only that she’d fallen in love with a football player, ended up pregnant, and been left behind when he headed off to college. Earl she said almost nothing about, only that it was a bad relationship and a mistake she’d never repeat.

  With the trace of a smile edging the corner of his mouth, Gregg asked, “Does that mean you’ll never take a chance on love again?”

  Suzanna hesitated a moment as the thought of Bobby Doherty drifted across her mind.

  “Probably not,” she answered, knowing that there could be no one else. Not as long as Bobby still had a stronghold on her heart.

  Ida

  William’s Will

  THAT WEEK BROUGHT A LANDSLIDE of changes to the Parker household. It began the day after the accident when Ida received a letter from the bank. Opening the envelope, she found a copy of Bill’s mortgage on the house. The first page was stamped CANCELLED. Ida’s heart clenched in her chest as she dropped into the chair. Fearing the worst, she unfolded the letter.

  It was a form letter stating the cancellation document for the mortgage on the Parkers’ house was enclosed, and it had been a pleasure doing business with them. It was signed Marilyn Walker Smyth, Mortgage Counselor.

  Stunned, Ida sat with her heart fluttering and her breath coming in thin little stops and starts. Right now, she was managing; getting by on a shoestring maybe, but getting by nonetheless. She’d be in better shape once the second room was rented, but even then she wouldn’t have nearly enough cash for the remainder of the mortgage. The bank wasn’t going to settle for what savings she had left, and if she did give it all to them she’d be wiped out. Completely. There wouldn’t be a dime left for electricity, telephone, or even food.

  She thought back to five years ago when William had taken out a mortgage and assured her it was the best possible interest rate. At the time, he’d labored over every little detail, making sure every T was crossed and every I dotted. The house was in both names so she’d assumed the mortgage would remain in place after Bill’s death, but apparently the bank had other ideas. Now she was stuck with the responsibility of paying the mortgage off or trying to get another one.

  She knew nothing about mortgages and had barely listened when Bill rattled off comparisons and asked her opinion. She didn’t have an opinion and without giving it a second thought had said, “Do whatever you think best.” Now she regretted those words. She should have listened, paid more attention; then she’d know how to fix this.

  As a feeling of helplessness settled over her, she leaned forward, dropped her face into her palms, and began to sob.

  “Dear God, Bill,” she cried. “What do I do?”

  For a brief moment, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Then she heard the familiar voice say, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and do as I’d do.”

  Startled, she lifted her head and turned to look, but no one was there. “Bill?”

  There was no answer; only the tick of the mantel clock.

  He’d been there, she was certain of it. She’d recognized his voice, felt the reassurance of his hand. But do as he’d do was something she didn’t understand. She puzzled over it for several minutes then remembered Delbert Stanfield, the loan officer at First Federal. He was a vice president, more than likely Ms. Smyth’s boss. He was also Bill’s friend, a man Bill trusted.

  As that thought took root and grew, anger overcame Ida’s feeling of helplessness. She stood, stiffened her shoulders, and headed for the kitchen telephone. Before Delbert finished his hello, she lit into him.

  “I’m sorely disappointed in you, Delbert. Bill was a loyal customer and a friend. After he gave you all that business, you pulling an underhanded trick like this is almost unthinkable!”

  “Ida?” Delbert s
puttered. “What on earth is wrong?”

  “Wrong?” she snapped. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. The bank cancelled the mortgage on our house, that’s what’s wrong! Now, what am I supposed to do when—”

  “Wait a minute,” Delbert said, interrupting Ida’s tirade. “You don’t have to do anything right now. At the end of the year, the city will send you a bill for next year’s property taxes.”

  “And what about getting another mortgage? You’re the only bank in—”

  “The house is paid off. You don’t need a mortgage.”

  Ida hesitated a moment, allowing what he’d said to settle in her head.

  “Paid off?” she finally asked. “But how…”

  “Bill had a home life insurance policy—”

  “I know he had life insurance. The company sent me a check, but it’s not enough—”

  “That check was for the insurance policy where you were the beneficiary. This one is different; this was a home life policy. On this one, the bank is the beneficiary, not you. The policy pays off the mortgage when something happens to the homeowner.” Delbert paused, then asked, “Didn’t Bill tell you about it?”

  Ida thought back on the hundreds of thousands of conversations they’d had. They’d talked about anything and everything. They’d struggled through the Great Depression together, watched presidents come and go, shared the anguish of losing their grandchild. She remembered all those moments, but she couldn’t recall that conversation.

  With words made heavy by the memories, her answer came in little more than a whisper. “I don’t remember.”

  After she’d hung up the telephone, Ida returned to the chair and sat there thinking. Her first impulse was to share the good news the minute Darla Jean got back from Barston, but after mulling it over she began to wonder whether it was wise to do so.

  She thought back on the dreadful days before Darla Jean returned. The house was silent, the mood somber, and the days lingering on for hours longer than they should have. She’d tried to shorten those dreary days by going to bed before the sun started its journey toward the horizon, but it was a wasted effort.

  The nights were no better than the days. The tiniest noise startled her awake; then she’d lie there feeling the emptiness Bill had left behind. Some nights she carried a book to bed thinking she’d read, but that too was useless. No matter how many times she read or reread the words, she failed to catch the drift of the story.

  The day of the memorial service, Darla Jean had been on her way to New Jersey. It was only after Ida asked for help that she changed her mind and stayed. Opening up the third floor, renting the room to Gregg—all done for the same reason. Because I needed them. Now, things would be different. With the house paid off and Bill’s insurance money in the bank, she was financially stable. She didn’t need help to clear away the clutter or a boarder who’d pay rent, but needing and wanting were two different things.

  The truth was she wanted Darla Jean to stay. She wanted Gregg to stay. She’d seen the spark flickering between them and could imagine them one day married, living here in this house. Annie would grow up here, and there would be more babies. This house was never intended for one lonely old woman; it needed children. It needed the patter of footsteps on the staircase, the warmth of laughter echoing through the rooms, and the sighs of lovemaking whispered in the dark of night. If Darla Jean stayed, there was the promise of all those things, but if she decided to leave…

  Ida shivered at the thought. It was not something she was willing to risk. It would be better for her to say nothing and make the necessary arrangements just as Bill had done. When she joined Bill in the hereafter, Darla Jean would inherit the house and all that was left. But for now, she had to leave things exactly as they were.

  Later that afternoon when they went grocery shopping at Piggly Wiggly, Ida plunked a standing rib roast into the shopping cart.

  Suzanna raised an eyebrow and asked, “Isn’t that a bit extravagant?”

  “It’s a special occasion,” Ida said with a smile. “When Gregg gets his car back, I’m thinking we’ll have a lovely dinner party and invite Homer Portnick to join us.”

  “Nice,” Suzanna said, “but a meatloaf would be just as good and more affordable.”

  Ida struggled to hold back a grin as she moved on to selecting some fresh tomatoes.

  Suzanna

  Fear of Ginger

  ALTHOUGH THE DAILY TRIPS BACK and forth to Barston meant two hours of driving every day, Suzanna didn’t mind. In fact, she enjoyed it. In the morning, she rose earlier, took time to apply lipstick, then twist her hair into a clip with a few carefully placed tendrils falling loose. On that first morning, she’d blushed when Gregg commented on how pretty she looked; then on the return drive back to Cousins, she’d stopped at the drugstore and bought mascara. That evening she wore her sundress when she picked him up.

  Oddly enough, the commute back and forth felt rather like a date. They shot flirty smiles at one another, chatted easily, and laughed at things that were only vaguely humorous. Although she was reluctant to admit it, even to herself, Suzanna started counting the hours until she would pick him up again just moments after she’d dropped him off. That was until the third day. That afternoon Gregg telephoned and asked if she could pick him up at his brother’s house.

  Before he finished telling about the porch set he and Phil were assembling, her thoughts flashed back to the morning she’d heard him talking about the sister-in-law from Florida. Going to her house was definitely was not something Suzanna wanted to do.

  Several seconds of silence ticked by; then she sputtered something about not knowing where Phil’s house was and being terrible with directions.

  “Oh, you won’t have any trouble finding the place,” Gregg said. “It’s on the same road as the school. Just keep going for another three miles, make a right on Verbena, and it’s two houses in.”

  “Three miles, huh?” she stalled, trying to think of an out.

  After a lengthy silence, Gregg asked, “Darla Jean, are you still there?”

  “Um, yeah. I’m still here.”

  “Well, it’s okay, isn’t it? You picking me up at my brother’s?”

  There was no out. She couldn’t say no, because Ida would ask why. Feigning a sudden illness wasn’t going to work either since it was almost time to leave. With an edgy tremor in her voice, she answered, “Sure, it is. I was just jotting down the directions.”

  “Okay then, I’ll see you at about five,” he said and hung up.

  When Suzanna set the receiver back in its cradle, her heart was racing. She took several deep breaths and tried to gather her thoughts.

  Why Florida? Why now, when everything was so perfect?

  She reasoned that the chance of Ginger being from Sun Grove were a million to one. Florida was a big state. Sun Grove was a small town, a nothing place. Not the sort of town where frat boys would spend a summer. She was on the verge of buying into that thought. Then she remembered: Gregg and his brother hadn’t planned on visiting. Their car broke down. They were stranded.

  Sun Grove was a place where a person could easily enough get stranded. Suzanna had felt that way for most of her life. Maybe the same was true of Ginger. Wasn’t it possible that she married Gregg’s brother to escape Sun Grove?

  Possible, perhaps, but she’s not the one telling the lie.

  For the remainder of the afternoon, Suzanna ran through scenarios of what she would do if Ginger did recognize her. She considered turning it off with a laugh, claiming Suzanna Duff had to be a look-alike. Supposedly everyone had a twin somewhere. Or she could say she’d suffered a bout of amnesia and only recently remembered her true identity. New schemes popped into her head one after another, each of them more foolish than the one before and none of them believable. The sorry truth was that if Ginger recognized her, the life Suzanna had built here was as good as gone.

  If this were only about her she could live with it, but she was not the only one involved
. It would break Ida’s heart to discover she was not Darla Jean. All the trust, the hopes and dreams, would be gone in a flash. And Annie… Suzanna couldn’t even bear to think of how it would affect Annie. She’d have to be dragged off kicking and screaming, torn from the arms of the only grandmother she’d ever known. It would be worse than it was before they came to Cousins. Back then, she and Annie were united against a common enemy: Earl. If they had to leave here, Annie would see her as the enemy.

  Suzanna closed her eyes and pictured Annie standing side by side with Ida, their faces knotted with anguish, their eyes angry and accusing. Her lies, harmless as they might have seemed, would destroy the people she loved most.

  With her heart heavy as a sack of stones, Suzanna climbed into the car and started for Barston. She took the back roads and drove so slowly that the cars behind her began honking their horns. Wrapped in worry, she paid no attention and continued at a snail’s pace. When the line of traffic passed Becker’s Farm, old man Becker removed his hat and stood with his head bowed as he would for a funeral procession.

  When she spotted the school, her eyes filled with tears. She imagined Gregg, wearing his tweed jacket, carrying his satchel briefcase, smiling as she drove up. That was yesterday. Today he might look at her the way he’d looked at Homer Portnick, his expression somber, his eyes unflinching as he asked why.

  She turned right on Verbena and pulled alongside the curb. She was late. Hopefully he’d hurry out, jump in the car, and they’d be off. Gone before there was a need for introductions or questions.

  The door to the house swung open before she’d turned the ignition off. An obviously pregnant woman stepped out, gave a wave, and started toward the car.

  Ginger.