Sins of Innocence by Jean Stone Read Free Book Online

had. With David. Susan closed her eyes and felt the swell of two decades of tears.
    David. Nineteen sixty-eight. Vietnam. Sit-ins. Psychedelic and leather and Students for a Democratic Society. A string of images unlocked in her mind, like frames of celluloid, poised, ready to be projected, eager to return Susan to a time when life was lived for consciousness-raising and peace-making. Dylan. Hashish. Janis Joplin and the draft. The assassination of a second Kennedy. Then the dreams came tumbling down. The tabloid photo of Ted Kennedy crept eerily into her mind. Then it vanished, replaced by only one thought:
    David.
    She opened her eyes. Why in hell was Jess Bates calling her? Susan pushed back the memories, grabbed the phone, and punched in the numbers for Palm Beach.
    “Hello?”
    God, why did her mother always sound so synthetic?
    “Mother, it’s me.”
    “Oh, Susan, well, I’m glad you made it home safely. How was your flight? I really wish you’d let your father pay for first-class tickets.…”
    “No, Mother. The flight was fine.”
    “But your legs are too long for those dreadful coach seats.…”
    “Mother,” Susan cut her off. “Mother, did someone call for me there today?”
    “What? Oh, yes. Wouldn’t you know, it wasn’t a man.”
    “Mother, what did she say?”
    “Why?”
    “Did she tell you her name?”
    “Yes. I didn’t write it down, though. A friend of yours from college.” Thank God. Jess had had the sense not to tell the truth. “I gave her your number. Shouldn’t I have?”
    “No, no. I mean, yes, that was fine. But,” Susan stumbled, looking for a way to probe deeper without getting her mother off on one of her tangents, “my answering machine cut off the message. Did she leave her number with you? I’d like to call her back.”
    “No. She didn’t leave a number, no.”
    Susan thought fast. “Did she say where she was calling from?”
    “Well, no. Well, I don’t know. I don’t remember. What difference does it make? If it was all that important, she’ll call you back.”
    Not if she thinks I got the message, Susan thought. She stared back at the answering machine, as though it would provide her with a clue. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Mother. Well, good night. Mark and I had a nice vacation.”
    “Aren’t you forgetting something else?”
    “Oh. Yes. Tell Daddy I said thanks too.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    Susan fidgeted with the phone cord. Now what, she thought.
    “What is it, Mother?”
    “You forgot to say ‘Happy New Year.’ ”
    “Oh. Yes. Happy New Year to you too.” She hung up before her mother could say anything else.
    “Mom!”
    Susan looked up at Mark, standing at the bottom ofthe stairs. “Jeez, Mom, didn’t you hear the kettle whistling? I heard it all the way upstairs.”
    “I’m surprised you can hear anything over your own racket,” Susan said, and hauled herself off the couch to make her tea.
    She hadn’t seen Bert since summer school had ended three weeks ago. She hadn’t felt any burning desire to see him before she and Mark had left for Florida; in fact, she had almost dreaded starting another semester with Bert following close on her heels. But now Susan lumbered across campus in the darkness toward Bert’s apartment with an urgent need to be with him, to be with her friend. And he was her friend, first and foremost. Bert would understand. Bert would help her figure out what to do.
    He opened the door for her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
    “Welcome home,” he said.
    “Thanks.” Susan noted the smell of marijuana on his breath. “Did you while away the hours of my vacation stoned?”
    Bert smiled. It wasn’t a handsome face, but it was warm, comfortable. Bert was a giver both of his time and his feelings.
    “I think it had something to do with Gardiner.”
    Gardiner was Bert’s history-professor colleague who was competing with him for the department chair, a position Bert deserved.
    “What