Trouble in Paradise

The tips of his fingers stroked her hair again. “You’re so sensitive, Susie. It’s one of the things I love about you,” he murmured. “I’ve always had a quick temper. The kids are used to it-a fast explosion and then it’s done, but I never meant for you to get caught in the cross fire. For three days, I’ve had nothing in my head but the image of Tom in an accident, maybe not even alive…”

“Oh, Griff, I know that,” Susan whispered wrenchingly.

He leaned back wearily against the pillows, drawing her close, his arms wrapped around her as he pressed a kiss on the crown of her head. “When I saw how little authority Sheila’s really had over him, something just exploded. I’m sorry if I shut you out, Susan. My anger wasn’t really aimed at you. I was angry with myself, because I’d failed to keep the kind of contact with Tom that he needed. Of course I want you to be part of his life, part of all the kids’ lives. But it wasn’t your fault that he ran off. It was mine. I had to deal with that alone.”

“I understand,” she said gently, and raised two fingers to his lips. He didn’t need to say anything more. She really did understand.

He shifted one more time to settle a kiss on her lips. Soft, gentle, alluring, reassuring… She matched his teasing pressure, but when she sensed the almost imperceptible change, a kindling of other emotions intruding in his touch, she pulled back, nestled her cheek on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. “You’re desperate for sleep, Griff,” she said quietly. “So am I. Everything will look different tomorrow.”

His body stiffened just slightly at that subtle rejection. It didn’t last; it couldn’t. He was too exhausted. He was asleep almost on the next breath, but Susan’s eyes remained wide open for a long time. She did understand, and she, too, had wanted to make love, to pour balm on that first hurt between them and give it a chance to heal. Yet making love would not solve every problem, and all the questions were still there in Susan’s head, questions that refused to go away and seemed increasingly important each day. Would his children ever fully accept her? Was Griff going to accept her help in dealing with them? Would he back her up if she came to a showdown with one of the children?

Susan, this is the perfect time to learn how to relax, she told herself. Now, close your eyes. She did. Susan, let’s not make something monumental out of a day that was totally traumatic.

She tried.

***

It had taken a mere seven days to get a custody hearing, and even then Griff had been impatient at the law’s delay. Susan’s heels clicked determinedly down the silent hall. On her right stood a row of heavy oak doors. On her left were several tall, oblong windows. At the end of the corridor, she faced a white wall with a single portrait of a judge done in oils. The judge in the picture was named Horshaw. His nose looked as if it had been broken once or twice. Susan turned around.

She began to pace again. On her right this time were the tall, oblong windows; on her left, the huge oak doors. At the other end of the hall were two black-and-white signs, one marked Stairs and the other Women. The signs hadn’t changed noticeably since her last walk in that direction. She pivoted again.

Horshaw’s nose hadn’t improved. Actually, he had rather shifty eyes.

She paused at a window and checked on a fingernail to break the monotony. Julie, Griff’s sister, had taken Tiger and Barbara and Tom back to their respective schools earlier that morning. The only time Susan had had alone with Griff was the period when the judge talked individually and privately with each child. The kids had been camping out at Julie’s apartment for the past few days; the judge had felt that they would suffer less anxiety if they stayed away from both parents until the hearing was over. Julie claimed, all lighthearted banter, that they were having a terrific time. Susan doubted that, fretting over the children’s emotional reactions to this whole week of stress, but certainly they had shown no anxiety leaving the judge’s chambers.

Nervously, Susan turned again, and at the end of the corridor pushed open the door to the women’s room, which she could have described with her eyes closed, should that have become necessary. The pale blue sinks hadn’t changed color. The mirror was still spotless. She found one more imaginary wrinkle to smooth out in the peach knit dress that so subtly revealed her distinctly feminine figure. Not a maternal choice, she scolded the image in the mirror. Her reflection was tired of hearing the same old thing. She debated using the facilities, but there was really no point. One cup of coffee four hours before had simply failed to produce the need. Not a fifth time.

Pushing the door open again, she headed back to Judge Horshaw. He still looked mean as hell, but he was company. And her stomach was all knotted up. Her mind seemed to have the cognitive capacity of a four-year-old’s. One just couldn’t tell about Minnesota judges. Not that she’d ever met a judge in her life, but Horshaw’s physiognomy was far from reassuring. The issue wasn’t Horshaw but the judge on the other side of the oak door, the one with the power to decide whether children belonged with their mother no matter what the circumstances. Sheila claimed she didn’t intend to fight Griff for custody, but Susan had her doubts. Sheila was impulsive, unpredictable and had an ax to grind against both Griff and Susan. Looking at it more charitably, whatever her conduct, Sheila was the children’s mother, and what mother wouldn’t fight for her kids? A large private settlement in lieu of child support was all she wanted, Griff had told Susan, but she couldn’t quite believe that.

Susan had had her own individual interview with the judge, and then had been shunted out of the hearing, just like everyone else. She hadn’t even had time to brood about her choice of the peach dress in favor of the nice conservative little navy blue one that made her look bosomy and maternal. The one that she had left in the closet that morning. Now that she was all alone in the hall, she knew what she should have worn, just as she suddenly had brilliant answers for all the judge’s questions. Impressive detail, emotional impact, ear-ringing conviction…

But what had she actually said? The children would have a period of adjustment; she’d said she understood that. She had explained her idea of a nurturing home and family life; she’d described the way in which she saw the three children and their individual needs. She didn’t know a great deal about children; she’d had to admit that. She would love them, yes. Loving them would not be difficult at all. God, that answer had come from the heart.

What could possibly be taking so long?

The oak door burst open, and she whirled to face it. Griff’s gray suit was somber, proper, the maroon tie just so, the starched shirt dauntingly appropriate, blond hair slicked back, neat and conservative. He turned to her, and she caught the dancing dark eyes. Joy, relief, happiness…

Her heels click-clicked, then went into double time. In seconds, she was in Griff’s arms; her toes left the floor as he caught her in a bear hug, and suddenly both of them were laughing. Tears in public embarrassed Susan, yet her lashes were shamelessly damp. God, he felt good! How much worry and guilt had he shed in the past few minutes? Tons. She could feel his relief in the relaxed strength of his arms, see it in his dancing eyes, sense it in the kiss he gave her, which a dozen people-including Sheila-made a polite effort to ignore as they walked past.

The children were theirs.

***

After four chaotic days of moving all the kids’ belongings to their house, Griff had announced that he and Susan were going to steal two hours of privacy away from all the confusion. Susan had her choice of restaurants. “I think you deliberately brought me here because you knew you’d be the most beautiful woman in the place,” Griff accused.

Susan nodded, pitching into the lobster on her plate with the same enthusiasm Griff was showing. Her eyes flicked absently around the attractive restaurant. Anchors and boating paraphernalia decorated the expensively paneled walls; thick navy carpeting felt lush beneath her stockinged feet. She had tucked her shoes out of sight a second and a half after sitting down. If the kids were only four days new to the household, her feet seemed to have aged a thousand years. The peace and silence of the restaurant seemed appallingly strange.

Four other women were seated at nearby tables. One was chunky, to put it politely. Two were skinny and wore horn-rimmed glasses-a matched pair. And one was a dowager swaddled in brocade. Susan definitely felt beautiful, if a trifle annoyed with herself. It was an evening for champagne, the first evening she and Griff had been alone together to celebrate the past momentous week, but instead of wine, she was sipping water. Her stomach rejected the thought of alcohol; this would have annoyed her even more if Griff had noticed. He hadn’t. “If you feel attracted to anyone else in the room, this is probably the only evening in our entire marriage when I will invite you to flirt with