Trouble in Paradise

“I…”

He straddled a straight chair, undoubtedly intent on looking manly. Susan settled back behind her desk, grateful for the support of her desk chair.

“Mom fed us a bunch of junk about Dad after they got divorced,” he told her flatly. “How he didn’t want us, crud like that. Maybe we all believed it for a while. I don’t know why, when we all knew that Dad was the only one who ever really took care of us. And I was the oldest-I shouldn’t have turned against him. I don’t even know why I keep on fighting him…except that he seems to be right all the time, and I can’t stand that. He can be a very annoying person,” he said flatly.

“Look, Tom…”

“He has a lot of love to give,” Tom interrupted her. “I’m not saying he’s not occasionally annoying, but he really does have a lot of love inside him. He can come on sometimes like a ton of bricks, so don’t think I don’t understand, Susan. Like I’ll probably be going to college, maybe even as soon as January. I’ve got all the credits I need. And Dad may not buy it yet, but what I really want is my own apartment. I’ll be eighteen by then, so if he makes you uptight, you can come over and stay with me. Anytime you ever want to. You’re family, Susan, and I know he can get really annoying on occasion-”

“Tom.”

“You’re going to have a baby. We know. Lanna called Dad.”

Susan closed her eyes, hating Lanna, hating Griff.

“He’s got a big thing for babies. He always has.” Tom hesitated. “Actually, he seems to have a pretty big thing for you, and, like, I know he can be really annoying on occasion-”

“Honey, I get the drift,” Susan said desperately.

“I thought you would. I knew from the beginning I could talk to you, Susan.”

A rap on the door, and there was Barbara.

“I’m nowhere near through,” Tom growled.

“Quit sounding like you know it all just because you’re older,” Barbara snapped. She stepped in, her dark eyes shifting rapidly from place to place, conveying an anxiety that Susan was beginning to recognize all too well. Tom stood up, staring at Susan. In a moment he was gone, and Barbara had folded herself up in the corduroy chair. She didn’t say a single word until Tom had closed the door and she had pleated a fold in her sweatshirt three times.

“Susan, you don’t understand,” she volunteered finally. “You just don’t understand anything.”

For the first time in twenty minutes, Susan found that she could breathe effortlessly. Barbara was not likely to wring out her heart and offer up her soul. “I never said I understood anything, Barbara, and you didn’t have to come here to-”

“Mom hates you,” Barbara interrupted flatly. “Like, I have to stand by her, you know?”

“I know,” Susan said quietly.

“Like, who else will stick up for her but me? The boys don’t count-they’re not the same thing at all as mother- daughter…”

“I know, honey.”

Silence reverberated in the little office. Barbara pleated her sweatshirt a few more times. “I was trying to do my best by Mom, you know?”

“I never doubted that,” Susan said gently. “Barbara, it’s all right…”

“Like, I really didn’t know those boys were coming to that party,” Barbara burst out angrily. “For that matter, Mom never let me have a party. She never even let us have friends over. Too much mess, she said. And nobody needs to make my lunch for me, Susan. For God’s sake, I could make peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches when I was five. And I’d hate to have to tell you the times Mom pulled a disappearing act on us, even back when Tiger was really little. If Dad had ever known the kind of meals I put together-”

At Susan’s shocked look, Barbara’s expression hardened. “Don’t you say a word against her,” she snapped.

“Have I ever said a word against your mother?”

“No,” Barbara admitted, and lowered her eyes. “Sometimes I feel so tied up in knots I can’t see straight.”

“Oh, honey…”

Barbara stood up, stuck her hands in her pockets and glared at Susan. “Don’t you leave my father,” she said flatly.

“I…”

“And it’s a stupid way to run a house. Letting Tiger walk all over you with those stupid animals. You think we can’t all eat the same stupid thing for breakfast? And, like, when were you going to get around to saying something about my room? Mom would have had a conniption. Don’t you leave my father,” she said angrily.

“I…”

“I’ll babysit, you know. Whenever you want, and don’t think I don’t know anything. I took care of Tiger all the time when he was little. I like little kids. Really. You probably think because I’ve been so-”

“Barbara…”

But the tape wasn’t quite ready to run down. “You’d be surprised, Susan, but I can bring the whole family around when I want to. Dad’s not so easy to handle anymore, but the boys…they can fold a few clothes and do a few dishes. You’ll see…”

Barbara finally left, closing the door behind her. The shock of sudden silence hit Susan like a bomb! She sat totally still behind the desk, afraid to move for fear Griff would conjure up more children out of thin air and send them in to splinter her heart in another thousand pieces. How could he? How could he have involved them? And as for Lanna broadcasting that she was pregnant…

She rubbed her fingers against her temples, trying desperately not to admit how much the children had gotten to her. So she loved the urchins; she already knew that. Tiger, who liked to discuss his entire life in detail before breakfast, and Tom, who was determined to grow up too fast and drive his father up the wall. Even Barbara, perhaps especially Barbara, so desperately belligerent as an act of loyalty to her mother, her big eyes so terribly vulnerable…

“Susan?”

Her head jerked up at the sound of Lanna’s voice from behind the closed door; one hand brushed rapidly at her eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You don’t need to,” Lanna called smoothly. “It’s nearly twelve, though, and I’ve gotten rid of the crowd. I just wanted to tell you that the Closed sign is going up.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

“No,” Susan said quietly. “Everything’s fine.”

She stared at the closed door until she heard the sound of Lanna’s footsteps fading; then she got up from behind the desk. Why couldn’t she get her head together? She had been so very sure they were doing the right thing when they got married, and she’d known all about his children then. She’d known in her heart that the marriage would work. It had seemed so simple. All it took was enough love; she knew she had enough love, and she knew Griff had enough love…

She opened the door of her office. A silent shop greeted her, late fall sunlight glinting in faded yellow patches through the two windows. She let down the blinds, removed the key from beneath the register and remembered distractedly that she’d walked here. She didn’t have a car; she didn’t have a change of clothes; Lanna’s sweater was too tight; she was hungry and miserable and didn’t have the least idea where she was going.

But she went. At least as far as opening the door, closing it and fitting the key into the lock.

“Susan?”

She whirled at the sound of Griff’s voice, her face turning pale. The Viking’s features were carved in granite, his eyes boring into hers like some piercing stab of life.

“I…” She took the key out of the lock and put it in her pocket, not looking at him. “I didn’t mean to just…leave. I wasn’t leaving you, Griff. I can’t even imagine…really leaving. I just needed a little time alone. If you’ll just give me a little time…”