Sins of Innocence by Jean Stone Read Free Book Online Page B

Bert’s captain’s clock ticking on the mantel. She took another drag, held in the smoke, then slowly released it. “Someone I knew in the sixties,” she said.
    Bert whistled. “Wow. A blast from the past.”
    She moved a magazine and put her glass on the end table. “She was someone I never thought I’d hear from again.” The joint burned hot now, nearly at its end. She took a quick last drag, then stubbed it out. She dropped her face into her hands. Why was this so difficult to tell Bert? God, this was the 1990s. “I don’t know about you, but there’s a part of my life I’d rather not remember.”
    “And she was there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did it have to do with Vietnam? The protests?”
    Susan put her hands down. “Good guess. But wrong.”
    “We all did some pretty stupid things in the sixties, Susan.”
    She nodded and brushed the hair from her face. “I had a baby, Bert. I gave it up for adoption.”
    He whistled again, but this time the sound was softer, more like a heavy rush of air. “Well,” he said, “that’s pretty heavy.”
    “I was in a home for unwed mothers. The woman who called was one of the girls who was there with me. I thought we’d said good-bye twenty-five years ago.”
    “What’d she say?”
    Susan laughed. “That’s the weird part. She said she’d like to drive up and see me. That she wanted to talk to me. Then my stupid answering machine cut off the rest of the message. I don’t know if she left a phone number, or said when she’d arrive, or anything. I don’t even know what the hell she wants.”
    “Were you friends?”
    “No. She’s a few years younger than I am. At the time it seemed we were a generation apart.”
    “She gave up a baby too?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then there’s a bond there.”
    “I guess.” She drained her glass.
    “Maybe she’s going through some sort of midlife crisis and wants to flesh out her past.”
    “But why me, Bert? She hardly knew me.”
    “Who knows? What are you going to do?”
    “There’s nothing I can do. I have no way of getting in touch with her to tell her not to come.”
    He crossed his legs and stared into his glass. “Does Mark know about this baby you had?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Maybe it would be a good idea if you told him. He’s old enough to understand.”
    “Mark and I aren’t exactly getting along these days.”
    Bert looked up at her.
    “Long story. But, of course, it has to do with Lawrence.” She reached across the couch and tried to straighten Bert’s papers. “No. I don’t think now’s a good time to get into it with him.”
    “Now might be your only time, Susan.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Think about it. There’s a chance this woman has some news about your—what was your baby, a boy, girl?”
    “Boy.”
    “Who is now what, twenty-five?”
    “Almost.”
    “Maybe this woman knows something about him. It’s possible, isn’t it?”
    Susan stared at him. That was, of course, what she’d feared, but she’d pushed that thought from her mind. No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. “Then again,” Susan needed to say, “maybe I’ll never hear from her again.”
    He drained his glass. “Maybe not. But I think you need to be prepared.”
    She tried to put it out of her mind. But the next morning, instead of working on the syllabus for World Lit II, Susan found herself doing busy, out-of-character things: cleaning out cabinets, scrubbing the sink, throwing away expired coupons that had been sitting in one of her many junk drawers for the past year. Mark had gone to school, and Susan was glad to have that much less tension in the house.
    She was standing at the oak kitchen table, foldingclothes, when there was a knock at the back door. Without looking, Susan knew who it would be. She took a deep breath and held it a moment, then calmly finished folding the towel she held. She put it on top of the neat stack and slowly walked to the door.
    Jess was there, on the other side of the