A Million Little Lies

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “Maybe it’s just butterflies about starting school,” Suzanna suggested.

  “It’s not,” Annie said. Then she sat there looking glum and staring down at the uneaten pancakes until it was almost time to leave.

  Before they left the house, Suzanna pinned a note inside Annie’s sweater. “This is Grandma Ida’s address and telephone number so if there is any kind an emergency—which I’m sure there won’t be—you can ask a grown-up to call here.”

  With a look of concern tugging at the corners of her mouth, she asked, “Does this paper say I’m Annie Parker?”

  “Of course, it does. I told you—”

  “Does it say Darla Jean is my mama?”

  “Yes, it does. Remember I told you only Earl called me Suzanna, but the truth—”

  With that worried look still stuck to her face, she said, “I know, Mama. I know.”

  Hand in hand they walked the five blocks to the school, and once the building came into sight Annie’s steps slowed significantly. Again she complained her tummy hurt.

  “I think I’m too sick to go to school.”

  “You’re not sick. You’re just feeling anxious because this is something you’ve never done before. You’ll be fine. It’s a chance to meet new friends and have lots of fun.”

  Annie looked up, her eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “Mama, will you still be here when I come out of school?”

  Suzanna squatted down and pulled Annie into her arms. “Of course, I will. I’m your mama. I’ll always be here for you. Forever and ev—”

  “But what if Earl comes and says you should be Suzanna again?”

  Annie’s fear wrapped itself around Suzanna’s heart and squeezed it so tight she could barely breathe.

  “I’ll never be Suzanna again, and I’ll never, ever leave you, Annie. I’m your mama, and that’s more important than being Suzanna or Darla Jean or anything else in the world. I will always, always, always be here for you. I swear I will.”

  “Is a swear the same as a promise?”

  “It’s better than a promise. You can’t ever take back something you swear you’ll do.”

  A barely perceptible smile curled Annie’s lips as they walked down the corridor to the classroom. At the door, Suzanna kissed her daughter’s cheek and turned to leave.

  “Don’t forget you sweared,” Annie called after her.

  Suzanna turned, smiled, then mouthed the words, I won’t forget.

  By the time she left the building, Suzanna was no longer smiling. She was thinking back on the fear she’d seen in her child’s face. It was not just imagined, it was real. Annie was afraid she’d be abandoned, forgotten, left behind as Earl had been. Suzanna thought leaving would prove a woman could strike out on her own, make it alone, not depend on anybody. But apparently Annie saw it differently. She was frightened that she too could be abandoned.

  The weight of that thought settled in Suzanna’s chest like a stone, and her steps slowed. Inching one foot in front of the other as she moved along, she thought back to how she’d had that very same fear when her mama was taken away to the hospital. For months on end, she’d barely slept. At night, she’d listened for the sound of the door closing or her daddy’s car pulling out of the drive. When the long afternoons stretched into evening, she’d wander from room to room, checking that her mama’s dresses were still hanging in the closet and her daddy’s ashtray on the table beside his chair. Night after night, she went to bed worrying that the next morning would be the one when she’d wake and find the ashtray gone or the closets emptied out.

  Annie deserved better than that.

  She was still a child; a child who needed the security of a loving family and a home to call her own. That was something she’d not had with Earl. Suzanna thought about it for a moment and could not recall even one time when he’d lifted Annie into his arms and told her how very special she was.

  As she thought back on those turbulent years, tears filled Suzanna’s eyes. Although she’d loved Annie from the moment she’d first felt movement inside her belly, she’d not shown it as a mother should. Moving in with Earl was a mistake. She’d done it not for Annie but because it made life easier for her.

  Her second mistake was not offering Bobby Doherty the chance to know the beautiful child they’d created together. Back then she’d reasoned that he didn’t care about Annie, but the truth was that her pride prevented her from asking. Was living this lie, pretending to be Darla Jean, going to be her third mistake? Was she doing it for herself, or this time was she doing it for Annie?

  Suzanna thought back to that first night when she’d stayed at Ida’s because it was a convenience, a cozy bed instead of a park bench. Something that made life easier for her; it was the same reason she’d moved in with Earl. That thought churned in her stomach until the bitterness of it rose into her throat and remained there.

  She stopped, stood for several minutes then turned and walked back toward the school. A single question circled through her mind over and over again. What was better for Annie? To stay meant forever living with the risk of exposure. To leave meant losing the grandma Annie had already come to love.

  When she reached the school, she glanced down at her watch: 9:15.

  She could go in, get her daughter, and make it to the bus station in time to catch the 10:30 Greyhound to New Jersey. Annie’s class wouldn’t be dismissed until noon; by then it would be too late. She was the child’s mama; she could claim a family emergency and say her daughter was needed at home. She hesitated a moment and thought about Annie’s reaction.

  But, Mama, you said we really are Parkers, so why do we have to leave Grandma?

  Suzanna sat on a bench opposite the school playground and tried to think it through. It seemed as if there were two voices battling inside her head. One asked, Why put yourself at risk? The other argued, For once in your life, do what’s right for Annie.

  Had all those years of living with her father made her like him? Selfish, thinking only of himself; was she really any different? She’d hated him for not being what a parent should be. Was she destined to make the same mistake?

  The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the minutes ticked by as the voices argued first one side and then the other. Then a single thought settled in her mind. To admit the lie meant forever losing Annie’s trust. Knowing that was a truth she couldn’t change, she made a decision.

  She would be Darla Jean; not simply pretend but force herself to believe it right down to the core of her being. She would think like Darla Jean, act like Darla Jean, and be the kind of mother Darla Jean would have been. It wasn’t enough to simply love Annie; she had to protect her and to do that she had to give her soul over to becoming Darla Jean. As of this day, Suzanna Duff would cease to exist. The memory of whatever came before would be wiped away. There would be no more Bobby Doherty, no more Earl, no more memories of her father. Annie would be first and foremost in every decision she made. She had made any number of mistakes in her life, but this time she would get it right. Annie would never live the life she’d lived; she would see to it. Annie would now and forever be Darla Jean’s daughter.

  And if the day ever came when Suzanna’s identity was challenged, she would stand bare-faced and swear it was what she’d always believed.

  Moments after she’d made her decision, a bell rang and the double doors of the school swung open. Annie came running out hand in hand with another little girl and broke into a smile when she saw Suzanna waiting. As they headed home, she bubbled over with stories telling of her new best friend and the wonderful time they’d had.

  Walking together, the tiny hand held securely in hers, Suzanna prayed that for once in her life she’d made the right decision.

  Ida

  Opening a Door

  IDA SAT AT THE KITCHEN window picking at the loose thread on her sweater and watching as Darla Jean pushed Annie higher and higher in the swing. The swing was old, the wooden seat splintered in places, but no one had ever thought
to take it down, much less replace it. The swing was like the rooms on the third floor, there but not something of concern.

  A few months ago she’d been certain of what she wanted, but now she was not at all sure. There had been too many changes in her life, and she questioned whether she was ready for yet another one.

  When she’d first come to this house, she and Bill used every room. He read his newspaper in the library, she spent mornings in the sewing room, they’d breakfasted in the alcove, and enjoyed an evening cocktail in the den. The kitchen was filled with the yeasty smell of fresh-baked bread, and there was always company coming or going—out-of-town friends, neighbors stopping by. Why, there were even weekends when they’d push the parlor furniture aside and dance to the tunes of Tony Bennett or Perry Como.

  All that stopped when Bill got sick. There was sometimes an evening when he felt up to a cocktail in the den or a few hours of television in the living room, but even that disappeared after a while. He was confined to his bed, and Ida seldom left his side. Other than an occasional trip to the kitchen to warm soup or fix a peanut butter sandwich, she lived in the bedroom. But it was a big house and, with taking care of Bill, more work than she could handle; so, one by one, the other rooms were closed off. After nearly two years of living in just one room, Ida had come to believe she didn’t need a house, especially one as big as this. She was actually looking forward to moving into a small apartment. A one-bedroom, perhaps, with an efficiency kitchen.

  Now things had changed. Scout and Annie raced across the back yard, up and down the stairs, played hide and seek in the dusty library, and banged in and out of the front door a dozen times a day. Scraps of material and patterns were scattered about in the sewing room, and if Darla Jean should decide to start having gentlemen callers she would need a decent place to entertain them. The more Ida thought about it, the more she realized that selling the house might not be such a good idea after all. Yes, there was the problem of expenses, but if she were extra prudent she’d be able to hang onto it for at least another year or two.

  Ida was still waffling about what to do or not do when Suzanna suggested they start readying the house for the market.

  “Not this week,” Ida said. “We’ve got too many things to do.”

  Suzanna looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “What things?”

  “Tomorrow is a big sale at the Sew & Sew Shop, and I’m supposed to make cookies for the Thursday children’s hour at the library.” When Suzanna stood there looking unimpressed, Ida added that she’d also promised to finish the sweater she was knitting for Annie’s new doll.

  “Surely the doll’s sweater can wait,” Suzanna said.

  “Not really.” Reaching into her knitting basket, Ida pulled out a ball of blue yarn and began click-clacking her needles. “A promise is a promise, and I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint Annie.”

  “I find it hard to believe you’re putting this project off just because Annie needs a sweater for her doll. There’s something else troubling you.”

  Ida’s needles slowed, and she gave a weighted sigh.

  “Perhaps,” she mumbled, not looking up.

  Suzanna crossed the room, squatted down beside Ida’s chair, and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

  Eyeing the well-intentioned expression, Ida asked, “How can you know what’s wrong when I’m not all that sure myself?”

  “Because I know how much you loved Granddaddy. You’re afraid if you sell the house, you’ll be leaving all those sweet memories behind and—”

  “That’s not the only thing troubling me.”

  “Oh? Well, then, what—”

  “I’m beginning to think my selling the house isn’t really what Bill wanted.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said,” Ida replied crisply. “But things have changed. After Bill passed away, I had only myself to consider. Now I’ve got a family to think about.”

  Suzanna’s mouth dropped open. “Family? Do you mean Annie and—”

  “Of course I do. You’re family. Your granddaddy would want you living here in his house. He always said, ‘Darla Jean will come back, and when she does, we’ll have her room ready and waiting for her.’ You know, I’ve told you that.”

  “Yes, but you also told me the house was too big and you couldn’t afford to—”

  “Money problems have a way of working themselves out. Bill always said a person needs to focus on the things that are important and not take chances with something they can’t afford to lose.”

  “Exactly,” Suzanna said with an affirmative nod. “So why risk your financial security by holding onto a house that’s—”

  Ida smiled and shook her head. “Darla Jean, don’t you understand that you and Annie are the things I can’t afford to lose? We’re family, and I know your granddaddy would want us to stay together.”

  “Selling the house doesn’t mean we’ll be separated. I plan to find a job right here in town, then get an apartment. Wherever you live, Annie and I will come to visit two or three times a week.”

  Ida gasped. “Visit? Visiting is for strangers, not family.”

  At a loss for words, Suzanna sputtered, “I didn’t intend…”

  Ida reached down and patted her cheek. “I know you mean well, but you and Annie need to stay here. This is where you’ll get to know your granddaddy, where you’ll discover the heritage he left behind. Darla Jean, your granddaddy may be gone from this earth, but I assure you, his spirit is still right here in this house. As long as we stay, he’ll be watching over us.”

  Suzanna said nothing for several moments. Then she blinked back a tear and looked up at Ida. “I want to stay, truly I do. Living here, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” She hesitated, her lip quivering. “But the truth is you can’t afford this house, and I can’t allow Annie and me to become a financial burden.”

  Ida opened her mouth to speak, but Suzanna shook her head. “No, let me finish. You claim Granddaddy would want you to take care of me, but I think he’d also want me to take care of you.” She went on to say that she’d stay but only if Ida allowed her to get a job and pay an equal share of the household expenses.

  For a long while they went back and forth, speculating on precisely what the late William Parker’s intentions would have been. Suzanna argued that sharing expenses made sense since she had planned to get a job anyway and would much prefer paying rent to Ida as opposed to a stranger.

  With her arms folded tight across her chest, Ida just sat there shaking her head side to side.

  “We’re family,” she said emphatically. “Family does not pay rent to one another. If you’ve got extra money, then start saving for Annie’s college education.”

  With both of them apparently wanting the same thing but neither of them giving an inch, it seemed to be a stalemate until Ida finally came up with what she called a suitable solution.

  “I’m not in favor of strangers tromping through the house, but I guess it would make sense to open up the third floor and rent out the rooms.”

  “What third floor?” Suzanna asked.

  “The door at the end of the upstairs hallway opens into a staircase. We’ve got two fair size rooms up there and a small bath.”

  With the look of disbelief clinging to her face, Suzanna said, “Bedrooms?”

  Ida nodded. “Of course they’re bedrooms. Bill and I fixed them up thinking your parents would sooner or later be back for a visit, but they never came. So eventually, we just closed the door and forgot about them. I didn’t see any sense in cleaning rooms that no one was using.”

  Still looking a bit stunned, Suzanna agreed it was a good plan.

  “As long as I do most of the work getting the rooms ready,” she added.

  Suzanna

  The Third Floor

  THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, SUZANNA AGAIN suggested they get started on the cleaning project, and this time Ida agreed. After Annie left for schoo
l with Lois Corky, who was now her best friend, the two women trudged up the staircase to see what did or didn’t need to be done. When they reached the landing, Ida turned right and pushed open the door.

  “This room’s the largest,” she said and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened.

  “Hmm. Could be the bulb’s burnt out.”

  Easing past Ida, Suzanna saw shadows of furniture but little else. “We’re going to need some light. It’s too dark to work in here, and…” She stopped, sneezed three times in quick succession, then finished her sentence. “It smells kind of musty.”

  “No wonder; this room’s been closed up for almost twenty years.” Moving gingerly, Ida made her way across the room, pushed the drapes to one side, and raised the shade.

  Sunlight flooded the room, a cloud of dust mites swirled through the air, and Suzanna sneezed again. She reached into her pocket for a tissue, then looked up and gasped. Sitting against the far wall was the most amazing bed she’d ever seen.

  The ceiling was slanted on that side of the room, and the top arch of the bed rose to the precise point where the wall met the ceiling. It was a dark wood, dulled by layers of dust, but its beauty was still shining through. The crest of the arch was an intricately carved cluster of roses, and beneath that a trailing vine reached out to the far edge of the headboard.

  Almost as if the bed were calling to her, Suzanna crossed the room and plopped down atop the flowered spread. A poof of dust rose into the air, and she began sneezing again.

  “God bless you,” Ida said. “It’s that coverlet. We need to get rid of it. It’s full of dust and beyond saving.”

  Tracing her finger along the edge of a flower, Suzanna looked up with a grin. “No, it’s not. We can air it out and—”

  Ida laughed. “That coverlet’s almost as old as I am. I had it before Bill and I were married. And the bed’s older still; it belonged to my mama before me.