A Million Little Lies Page 2

  As they started down Main Street, Annie asked, “Mama, is there gonna be cake?”

  “I’m pretty sure there will be cake; maybe even pies as well.”

  “Oh, boy!” Annie grinned and quickened her step.

  Ida Parker

  Cousins, Georgia

  THIS WAS THE DAY IDA Parker had been dreading. Today she would say one last goodbye to the man she’d loved for over a quarter of a century. She leaned heavily on the railing as she mounted the five steps leading to the Elks Club building.

  Inside the foyer she stopped in front of the large brass easel and stood looking at the collage of photos. Bill, when he was alive and well—playing golf, sitting behind the wheel of a boat, laughing with friends—and in the center, a larger shot where they stood arm in arm, him with a grin that stretched the full width of his face, her holding a bouquet of flowers. Their wedding day.

  His temples already had a tinge of silver, and a fan of laugh lines cornered the edge of her eyes. It was a second marriage, but they’d never seemed old to one another. They’d laughed and loved the same as all newlyweds. He’d called her beautiful and teased her for worrying over a few extra pounds. She in turn had promised to love him even after his hair had turned white as snow. That was 25 years ago, but she remembered it as if it were yesterday.

  Their love had remained steady and strong for all those years, in good times and bad. It had withstood the onslaught of Tommy’s anger and the heartbreak of him taking away their only granddaughter. Ida shook her head sorrowfully.

  “Such a waste,” she murmured. “Such a terrible, terrible, waste.”

  Turning away from the poster, she moved into the clubroom and was quickly surrounded by friends and neighbors.

  “You know we’re here for you,” Agnes Shapiro said. “Whatever you need…”

  Wally Hawthorne echoed the thought, adding that he’d be coming over to mow the lawn, then asked if Tommy knew that his dad passed away.

  “I doubt it,” Ida replied. “Bill hadn’t seen or heard from Tommy since Darla Jean’s christening. We never knew where he’d gone or how to get in touch with him.”

  Wally wrinkled his brow. “Damn shame. Bill took good care of that boy after Maggie died. Tommy had no cause to turn his back on his daddy the way he did.”

  He wasn’t saying anything Ida hadn’t thought a thousand times over, but today it was too painful to allow those memories to take hold of her. She thanked Wally for his thoughtfulness, then turned and started across the room.

  Ida was the cause of Tommy leaving, but never, not once, had William blamed her. In fact, when she suggested they stop seeing one another, he’d refused to even consider the thought. Tommy is acting like a spoiled child, he’d said. He doesn’t understand how painful loneliness can be. Give him time, and he’ll see this is a good thing. As time had proven, it was a good thing, but Tommy never did come around. Not long after their wedding was announced, he left town with his wife and baby.

  With Bill now gone, remembering how he clung to the thought that Darla Jean would one day find her way home was more painful than ever. Ida could feel her heart pushing up against her chest and the echo of Bill’s voice in her head. Her steps slowed, and she came to a stop. Regardless of what her daddy thinks, he’d said, there will come a day when she’ll want to know her family, and she’ll come back here looking for us.

  Ida was lost in thought when Lynn Olsson took hold of her arm.

  “There you are,” Lynn said and wrapped Ida in a warm hug. “Marsha Lambert is planning to start a Tuesday afternoon bridge game, and I suggested it might be just the thing to get you out of the house. I know how much you miss Bill, but you can’t just sit around and do…”

  As Lynn rambled on they were joined by several others offering help or advice on how to manage, but standing there in the midst of all those well-meaning friends, Ida felt as alone as she could possibly be. She didn’t want to join a bridge club, attend a library luncheon, or be part of a crochet club. She wanted what she’d lost—a family.

  ——————

  THE YOUNG WOMAN STOOD AT the door for a moment, looked around, then stepped inside the crowded clubroom. She was more visible than most because of what she was wearing: a flowered sundress. It was not only the dress. She also stood a head taller than the other women in the room and had a child with her, a girl dressed in shorts and a yellow tee shirt. Most of Bill’s friends were businessmen or senior citizens.

  From the corner of her eye, Ida saw the woman sit the girl in a chair, bend down, and speak to her. The child nodded, and the woman turned and started across the room. She walked with a deliberate stride, not stopping to chat as she made her way through the gathering.

  Ida continued to watch for a few moments, then caught the woman’s eye and smiled. There was a slight flicker of hesitation; then the woman ducked her head and smiled back.

  She was a scant arm’s length away when Ida realized who she was. Her hand shot out and grabbed the stranger’s arm as she passed by.

  “Darla Jean,” she said in a whispery thin voice. “Your granddaddy knew you’d come.”

  Suzanna winced and stood there with her eyes wide and her cheeks growing crimson.

  “I’m sorry, truly sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. We’ve been traveling and—”

  “Intrude?” Ida smiled. “Darla Jean, you’re not an intrusion, you’re the answer to a prayer.” She pulled Suzanna into an embrace from which there was no escape.

  Before there was time to explain the mistake, Ida waved to the group of friends standing nearby and called them to come and meet Darla Jean, Bill’s granddaughter. Moments later, they were surrounded by people chattering about how Suzanna was obviously gifted with her granddaddy’s fair skin and blue eyes.

  “Height too,” one man said, and the woman beside him nodded.

  As the crowd closed in on Suzanna, beads of perspiration rose on her forehead and the flush on her cheeks began to spread. She fanned her hand in front of her face.

  “I’m feeling a bit warm,” she said. “Perhaps I should step outside for a breath of air.”

  “You’re right,” Herb Meltzer replied. “It is warm in here; I’ll have them crank up the AC.”

  Suzanna’s expression was that of a trapped rabbit, but with Ida having a firm grip on her arm she was unable to break free. She gave a stiff smile, nodded politely, then craned her neck to see if Annie was still sitting in the chair where she was told to wait. Seven-year-olds were notoriously unreliable, and anything could happen in a room full of strangers.

  “After all these years…” Ida stood looking up at Suzanna’s face. “Here you are, all grown up, nearly as tall as your granddaddy, and pretty as a picture. Why, the last time we saw you, you were a red-faced swaddling baby.” Her eyes grew misty. “When Tommy left town, I thought for sure we’d never see you again.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand—”

  “Well, of course you don’t, you were just a baby. There’s no way you could remember. It was a terrible time…” She went on to tell of how Bill’s son couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive his daddy for getting married again.

  Suzanna nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she kept watch on Annie. Every now and again she nodded or gave a thin smile as Ida spoke of the bitter words that had passed between father and son. When Annie scooted out of the chair and started toward the dessert table, Suzanna finally broke free of Ida’s grasp.

  “Excuse me, I’ve got to check on my daughter,” she said and hurried off.

  Her intention was to grab Annie and head for the door, but Ida was blinded by her happiness and failed to notice. Step by step, she followed along still telling how Bill had continued to believe long after she’d given up hope.

  Suzanna grabbed Annie from behind just as she was reaching for the chocolate layer cake.

  “I told you to stay put,” she hissed.

  Trying to wriggle free, Annie wailed, “
I’m hungry, Mama. You said I could have cake!”

  “Yes, but I told you to wait until—”

  Ida moved closer and touched her hand to Suzanna’s shoulder.

  “I’m normally not the type to butt in,” she said apologetically, “but your granddaddy would have my head if he thought I’d let his great-granddaughter go hungry.”

  Annie stopped trying to get loose and looked at Ida quizzically.

  With her smile broadening into a grin, she said, “You don’t know me yet, sweetheart, but you’re sure enough going to. I’m your Great-Grandma Ida.”

  “Grandma Ida?”

  “Yes indeed,” she replied with a laugh. “I’m a Parker, just like you and your mama. We’re family. Parkers, all three of us.”

  Before Suzanna could stop her, Annie asked, “What’s a parker?”

  Ida chuckled. “Why, that’s our surname; the name your mama had before she married your daddy.”

  Annie turned to Suzanna looking even more confused. “Mama, I don’t understand—”

  “I’ll explain it later,” Suzanna cut in. She glared at Annie with an expression that squelched any further bickering.

  “Come.” Ida motioned to a door at the side of the room. “Let’s have lunch where it’s quiet, and we can talk.”

  With a firm grip on Annie’s hand, Suzanna followed along as Ida led the way through the crowd and into a cozy back room. In the center there was a round table with four chairs. Sliding a chair back, Ida motioned for Annie to come and sit. She took a bottle of milk from the refrigerator and filled a tumbler.

  “Start with this,” she said, “and I’ll bring you some lunch.”

  As soon as Ida was out the door, Suzanna turned to Annie.

  “Listen up,” she said. “We are going to eat lunch and then go. And if this woman calls me Darla Jean, you’d better not question it. You eat, say nothing, then we leave. Got it?”

  With a pouty look settling on her face, Annie nodded.

  A nod was not enough. Suzanna repeated, “Not a word, do you understand?”

  “Okay, Mama, okay. But why—”

  Ida came through the door carrying two plates heaped high with meat, potatoes, vegetables, and squares of cornbread. Setting them on the table, she turned to Annie, “After you’ve eaten your lunch, you can have a nice big piece of that chocolate cake you were eyeing.”

  Ida poured herself a cup of coffee and sat alongside Suzanna.

  “We’ve got an awful lot of catching up to do,” she said wistfully. “I don’t suppose your mama or daddy ever told you about what happened?”

  Suzanna shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”

  A weighted sigh rose from Ida’s chest as she settled back in the chair.

  “It’s easy enough to understand why they didn’t,” she said sadly. “It was a bad time for all of us, and your poor granddaddy had the worst of it…” She continued on telling how Maggie Parker, William’s first wife and Darla Jean’s true grandmother, was like a sister to her and how after Maggie’s passing it seemed only natural she be around to comfort William.

  “There was nothing sneaky about it. We were friends, that’s all. But Tommy was still living at home, and every time he’d see us together he’d roll his eyes or make some snide comment. I knew the lad was peeved at seeing me in his mama’s kitchen, so I suggested maybe it would be better if I stayed away, but Bill wouldn’t hear of it. He thought Tommy just needed time. He said, ‘Once Tommy gets to know you, he’ll love you just the same as I do.’”

  For an instant, a flicker of light danced in her eyes and the fan of crow’s feet at the outer edges deepened. “Bill was like that, forgiving of everything, but your daddy, well, now he was just the opposite.”

  As Ida spoke the ridges of sorrow seemed to deepen, but her expression was one of tenderness, made warmer by the glow that comes from loving somebody. Memories of the good and bad times she and William had shared came floating to the surface as she told of how they would sit at the kitchen table drinking coffee and talking about how much they missed Maggie.

  “Caroline and your daddy were dating then, and the following year when they got married he moved out. Two years went by and then a few weeks after your christening, Bill told your daddy that we were planning to get married and Tommy just about went crazy. He told Bill that if we did, he’d leave town and never again speak to either of us.”

  Suzanna gasped. “How awful.”

  “It surely was. I wanted to call the whole thing off, but Bill wouldn’t hear of it.” She shook her head and heaved a sorrowful sigh. “Neither Tommy nor Caroline ever spoke to us after that, and two months later they left town with you. Not a single goodbye or any word of where they were going. That was the last we heard…” She hesitated a moment then her face brightened. “Until today, when you walked in.”

  Annie pushed her empty plate forward. “All done. Can I have cake now?”

  “You sure can. Wait here, and I’ll get you a nice big piece.” Ida disappeared into the clubroom a second time.

  She was barely out the door when Suzanna leaned close to Annie and whispered, “After you finish your cake we’re leaving, and I don’t want to hear any argument about it.”

  “Why? This is better than the stupid bus station.”

  “I said no argument.”

  “But, Mama, she’s my grandma.”

  Before Suzanna could argue the point, Ida returned with two pieces of cake. She handed one to Annie and set the other on the side of the table. “I brought extra in case you’d like a piece.”

  “Not me,” Suzanna said. “I’m stuffed, but I’ll join you in a cup of coffee.”

  The next hour flew by as Ida told how William had searched for Tommy several times.

  “Not at first,” she said. “Back then he claimed he didn’t care if he ever heard from the lad again; said if that’s how Tommy wanted it, then it was fine with him. But that was just a lot of bluster and hurt feelings. I could tell how much he missed—”

  “Tommy didn’t ever try to get in touch with his dad?” Suzanna cut in.

  Ida blinked. “You call your dad Tommy?”

  Being so wrapped up in Ida’s story, Suzanna had obviously forgotten herself. She did a quick turnabout, laughed, and said, “Not really. I guess I called him Tommy because you were; to me he’s just Dad.”

  “How is Tommy and where—”

  A young man poked his head in the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Parker, but I thought you’d like to know they’re starting to clear the tables.”

  Ida gave a nod, and then he was gone. With a bit of reluctance, she stood and said, “Wait here; I won’t be all that long. I just want to say goodbye to my guests.”

  Suzanna stood also. “No problem. We should be leaving anyway.”

  “Leaving? You can’t leave now, we’ve barely gotten to know one another.”

  “I wish it could be longer, but Annie and I are on our way to New Jersey. We just wanted to come by and pay our respects—”

  “Why so soon? I’m certain your husband would understand if—”

  Without taking time to think about it, Suzanna said, “There is no husband. Annie’s father wasn’t the marrying kind. We’re planning to stay with a friend in New Jersey.”

  “But surely your friend would understand if you spent a day or two with the grandmother you haven’t seen since you were an infant.”

  Although it was doubtful that Suzanna could say whether it was the sorrowful look on Ida’s face or the thought of sleeping on a park bench that brought about her change of mind, she wavered for a moment, then said, “I guess we could stay the night, if you’re sure it’s no inconvenience.”

  “Of course it’s not. With Bill gone I’m alone in that big old house, and it’s terribly lonely. I’d welcome the thought of having someone to talk with.”

  Suzanna

  Just One Night

  AS SHE SAT THERE WAITING for Ida’s return, Suzanna thought back on their conversation a
nd found herself almost envious of the love Ida had for the deceased William. She had not known such a love since she’d lost her mama, and now, more than ever before, she could feel the vastness of the hole that remained in her heart.

  The truth was she wanted to stay just as much as Annie did, but she was afraid of the questions that would arise; questions about the man who was supposed to be her daddy. Tommy. A mean-spirited man who she imagined to be much the same as the daddy she’d grown up with. A man with bottled-up anger and very little love to give.

  Thoughts of her father brought back memories of the last time she’d seen him and the terrible row they’d had. By then she was big and round with Annie, so there was no more hiding the pregnancy. He’d railed over what he called her deplorable condition and said she was an embarrassment that he wanted gone from his sight. She’d packed a bag and left, hoping he’d call her back, say his harsh words were a mistake, and ask her to stay. He didn’t. Not that night. Not ever. Now almost eight years had gone by, and they’d not spoken to one another.

  Suzanna was thinking of how sad it was that Annie had never known her father, her grandfather, or grandmother when the idea came to her. She could substitute her own father for the dreadful Tommy if the need arose. She would say they were estranged and had not spoken in years. After all, it was only for one night, so what harm could it possibly cause?

  ——————

  BY THE TIME IDA SAID goodbye to reception guests and gathered her things, it was after 6 p.m. when they returned to the house. As they rounded the corner of Homer Street and pulled into the driveway of a huge grey Victorian with white trim and a wrap-around porch, Suzanna gasped. “This is it?”

  “Afraid so,” Ida replied. “As you can see, it’s way too much house for one person.”

  Suzanna climbed out of the car, then stood looking up at the steep-roofed turret, towering chimneys, and muntined windows.