“You can pursue history as a pastime,” Griff growled.
Tom turned away. “Dad, I am
“Well, you’re sure as hell not going to major in
But he would not reach Tom by talking about salaries. Susan knew that. Whatever career Tom ended up in, at this point in his life he was desperate to make a mark that said Tom-not-Griff. Griff was hurt and uncomprehending. Neither Anderson had the patience of a stone, and Susan stood up, afraid that their talk would deteriorate into harsh words from which neither one could back down.
“The point is that he will at least go to college. That’s good enough for now, isn’t it, Griff?” she said quietly.
Tom’s eyes darted in her direction, desperately grateful. Griff went totally still.
“Students have to take required courses during their freshman year,” Susan continued hesitantly. “A little bit of everything. There’ll be plenty of time for him to choose a major later on.”
“I’m not going to change my mind, though,” Tom said flatly.
No, darling? You changed your mind very quickly over Candice once you ran into certain realities, and you might just run into realities again with other decisions, but I’m certainly not going to press that. “I wasn’t suggesting you should change your mind,” Susan told him, with perfect honesty. “I was only suggesting that college is still the best of all possible places to test out your interests-and abilities.”
Tom hesitated. “As long as I can take history courses…”
Susan suddenly couldn’t look at Griff, because she couldn’t think of a single occasion when he would appreciate anyone speaking for him. “Your dad has no objection to your taking all the history courses you want,” she told Tom. “And if you end up really wanting to major in history, there’ll be no problem, Tom. But it won’t kill you to take a few business courses as well, just to acquire a practical education. Then maybe you can work with your dad in the summers to earn some extra money and to find out what the business world is like. In the long run, you can do whatever you want to, whatever makes you happy. Your dad and I both care deeply for your happiness.”
Tom went up to his room a short time after that, and Susan was left with a very silent Griff, crouched in front of the fire with his back turned to her.
“You’re angry with me for interfering,” she suggested quietly.
“No.”
But he didn’t turn to face her. “You are,” she insisted. “Griff…”
He turned then, rising from his crouched position. His body was as taut as a wire; his brooding eyes held hers. “Susan, from the first, Tom’s had a special feeling for you. I’m glad of that. You’ve been there when he needed you…and I’m not angry. I could see what you were trying to do-give him time, in the hope that he’ll come around if he’s allowed to do so without losing face. Dammit, I agree completely with you. All I really want is for him to be happy, though I admit I’d prefer for him to at least take a shot at the business before he just rejects it out of hand. But you even covered that base…”
He turned away again, opening the draperies to stare out the window into the stormy night. “The thing is, every time I try to have a conversation with him, I seem to fail abysmally. Everything you said was right, Susan…but I just never seem to bridge that communication gap with him myself. I was determined that tonight we’d get past those walls, maybe even get angry at each other, but all the same keep going until we got somewhere together…” He looked back at her, not insensitive to the distress in her eyes. “Honey, it’ll happen another time. I’m not blaming you. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go walk off some stress. The weather,” he added wryly, “is perfect for it.”
Susan sat absolutely still until she heard the front door close, her stricken eyes staring unseeing into the fire. She’d hurt him-inadvertently, but she’d hurt him. Not seeing that he desperately needed to thrash this problem out with Tom, she had jumped in to smooth the troubled waters on one of those occasions when she really didn’t belong, when no one belonged but Griff and his son.
He’d hurt her once with hastily spoken harsh words; she’d had no idea then how much more terrible it would be to know she had hurt him.
She was tired and overwrought and afraid that she was failing in this marriage, and she didn’t really feel well. She thought of the baby, and burst into tears.
Chapter 14
Susan couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked in the rain. The leather boots reached almost to her knees, and her raincoat was buttoned up to her throat; she wore gloves and a vinyl hat she’d bought on a whim a long time ago. Not an inch of her was wet, though the rain kept pouring down, splashing on the pavement and forming puddles.
It was four o’clock in the morning, a strange time to take a walk. No one was out on the streets, neither cars nor passersby; no windows were lit up, and the heels of her boots made sharp click-clocks on the pavement of the quiet St. Paul streets.
Why she had gotten up in the middle of the night and stolen from Griff’s side she didn’t know. She had left a brief note on the kitchen table in case he woke and worried because she was out of the house, but she could no longer remember what it said.
She had to get out from under, that was all. One minute everything seemed to be all right. She adored Griff; she loved his kids; she desperately wanted his baby; she was safe and secure in a job and a home she loved. Only a fool would expect more.
The next minute she knew she could never become the mother Griff needed for his children. A baby would only add to the reigning chaos. She knew Barbara would never accept her; she hated the hamsters; one more blaring rock band would drive her completely over the edge…and she couldn’t bear to disappoint Griff, to let him know how swiftly she had been totally snowed under. There was no peace and no privacy in their marriage, and there never would be. A few stolen minutes with Griff now and then would not give them a chance to build a really solid marriage.
Susan’s head was roiling with murky thoughts; she came to no conclusions. She didn’t want to go home right now, that was all. Coward, she told herself sadly, and found herself facing the small bookstore with its sign, The Unicorn, in a cheerful little window with a small light. She walked around to the back, the dark alley blocking out some of the ceaseless wind and rain, then ascended a small flight of wooden stairs and knocked quietly, then louder.
Lanna finally opened the door, clutching her robe to her throat, her blue eyes sleepy and her red hair in a disheveled halo around her head. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Susan.
“You shouldn’t open your door to anyone in the middle of the night,” Susan told her.
“Come in,” Lanna said, and all but pulled her inside, ignoring the spray of raindrops that sprinkled on her as she took Susan’s coat. “What on earth are you doing in the middle of the-”
“I seem to have run away from home,” Susan said absently. Was
“When I ran away from home as a kid I always carried peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and a teddy bear,” Lanna remarked, watching her worriedly.
Susan dug her hands into her pockets. “I don’t seem to be that well prepared,” she admitted. “I was hoping you’d put up your landlady for the rest of the night.”
“Sit down, shut up and I’ll get you some tea.”
Lanna disappeared into the kitchen, and Susan sat down and looked around distractedly. She suddenly thought of something. “If you have someone here…”
“Contrary to what you like to believe,” Lanna called back, “I really don’t have overnight guests all that often. Naturally, men queue up outside my door, just waiting for the opportunity. After all, I’m not only smart and beautiful, but also extremely creative.” Lanna’s head whipped around the door frame. “I told you to lie down.”
“You told me to
