Sins of Innocence (32 page)

In the living room Ginny was sprawled out across the sofa, jiggling her leg and doodling configurations of “L.A.” in a spiral bound notebook.

“It won’t be much longer before you’re there,” Jess commented.

“Sure. You bet.”

Jess clutched the books in her arms. She didn’t know if what she was about to do would work, but it was worth a try. Anything was worth a try if it meant she could get her mother’s ring back.

“How are you going to afford to live out there? You know. I mean, until you make it as an actress?”

Ginny shrugged. “There are ways, kid. There are ways.”

Jess bit her lip, hoping Ginny wouldn’t notice her edginess. “Pop says it’s easier to make money when you know you’ve already got some put aside.”

“What the hell does he know? He’s an old man who mows a lawn for a living.”

Jess forced a laugh. “That may be how you see him, but Pop has lots of money.” She bit her lip again. “I’ve seen it.”

“Sure. What’s he got? Twenty dollars? Fifty? Wow. Some stash.”

Jess crossed the room and sat in the chair facing Ginny. “Hundreds, actually. Probably more.”

“Did he show you his bankbook?”

“No. Pop doesn’t believe in banks. He keeps it in an old coffee canister over the refrigerator. He showed me one day. He’s real proud of it.”

Ginny rolled onto her side. “He’d better be careful, keeping all that cash around.”

Jess dug her fingernails into the geography book. “Why? It’s not like he ever leaves Larchwood.”
Except on Friday mornings, when he takes Mrs. Hines into town
, she wanted to add, but knew that Ginny had been there long enough to know that too. All Jess had to do now was hope Ginny had taken the bait. It was hard to tell by the disinterested look on her face.

Susan came into the living room, and they began to review for the test.

On Friday morning Jess told Susan she wasn’t feeling well. She waited to see the station wagon pull out of the driveway, then she quietly sneaked across the yard and climbed the wooden steps of the garage up to the Hineses’ apartment.

She took the big skeleton key from over the doorjamb and let herself in. Autumn light filtered through the plastic lace curtains; dust specks twinkled in its path. Jess sat on the vinyl-covered Early American sofa and waited. She didn’t know if Ginny would come; she didn’t know what she’d say to her if she did. She only knew she wanted her
ring back, and this seemed the best way. If she told Miss Taylor her thoughts about Ginny, Ginny would be thrown out of Larchwood for sure. And Jess didn’t want to be responsible for that.

She didn’t have to wait long. Only a few minutes after Jess had entered the apartment, the door handle jiggled. Jess felt her entire body tense. What if it was Pop and Mrs. Hines? How would she explain being here? She obviously wasn’t sewing … she was just sitting here.…

The door creaked open.

Ginny

Incredible. The hired hands didn’t even lock their door. Ginny stepped inside, then stopped short. Somebody was sitting on the sofa, silhouetted against the sun.

“Hello, Ginny.”

Ginny’s head snapped. Christ, it was Jess. “What the fuck …?”

“Did you come looking for something?”

Ginny tossed the hair from her face. “Yeah. Pop. I was looking for Pop.”

“I don’t think so.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows and remained frozen in place.

“I think you came looking for his money.”

Her heart started to pound. “You’re an asshole.”

“No, I’m not. You came to steal Pop’s money. The same way you stole my ring.”

Pressure squeezed against her throat. “You’re fucking crazy.” She backed out of the door.

“I don’t want to have to tell Miss Taylor,” Jess said.

Ginny stopped. Defensive, she thought. Be defensive. Cover your ass. “Tell her what? That I came to visit Pop? Big fucking deal.”

“No, Ginny. That you came to steal his money. The money I told you about. The same way you stole my ring
and my hundred dollars. The same way you stole the money Mrs. Hines left for the egg man.”

She knew she should leave. Ginny stared down Jess. She was just a kid, but she knew Jess would find the balls to turn her in. People tended to get balls when something they wanted was at stake. And the kid wanted her ring. Maybe she should just hand it over.

“I know you did it, Ginny.”

Fuck her. Why should she hand it over? That ring was her ticket out of here. Her ticket to L.A. She clenched her jaw and willed her heart to stop pounding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’d have to leave right away. Head to Boston. Find Vinnie. He’d know where to fence it.…

“Ginny, do you need the money that badly?”

She laughed. “What do you know about money? You’ve never needed a dime in your life. Daddy has seen to that.”

Jess nodded, and Ginny didn’t miss the tears spilling down the kid’s cheeks. “If it’s the money you need, I’ll give you some. But, please, give me back my ring. It was my mother’s.…”

Christ.

“Let’s say I did have the ring. Not that I do. But let’s say I did. So I give it back to you. What’s stopping you from telling Miss T. anyway, and getting my ass kicked out of here?”

Jess lowered her eyes. “I guess you’d have to trust me.”

Ginny laughed. “Hey, forget it, man. I don’t even have your fucking ring.”

“How much do you need, Ginny? A few thousand? Ten? Twenty? Would that help?”

“What is this? You think I’ve got your ring, and I’m holding it for ransom?”

“Ginny, I care about the ring. A lot. And I really want it back. But I care about you too. I don’t want to see you get thrown out of here before your baby’s born. Where would you go? Where would you have the baby?”

Ginny felt a stabbing ache in her breast. She leaned against the door. The kid was right. If she left here, she’d probably wind up having the baby in a crash pad somewhere. Vinnie would probably take a cut from the ring, and what she’d end up with wouldn’t be enough to live off for a month, never mind get her mother out to L.A. with her and start their new life. She looked at the tiny figure on the sofa. Fuck, she thought. Fuck.

“I’ll give you the money anyway, Ginny. No strings. Enough to set you and your mother up in a nice place in L.A. Enough to last you until you can get on your feet. Think of it as my way of getting back at my father for what he’s done to me.”

Wait a minute. What the hell was she saying?

“You mean you’ll float me the money even if you never see your ring again?”

“Yes. I told you. I want the ring back. Sure. But I care about you. I care about what happens to you.”

“Why?”

Jess shrugged. “Maybe because we have a lot more things in common than you think.”

“Sure. Name one.”

“Even though I have my father, and you have your mother and your stepfather, I think we’re both kind of alone in the world.”

It was then that Ginny knew she’d give her back the fucking ring, money or not. She didn’t want this kid playing with her head any longer.

Susan

Susan picked at a fraying strand around the hem of her denim tent dress, then slipped into leather sandals. It was time to meet with Miss Gladstone—“Miss
Gall
stone,” Ginny called her—the prissy social worker assigned to the girls by the state. She hoisted herself from the bed and made her way downstairs to the living room, collecting her thoughts as she went. She had prepared what she was going
to say, and she could almost predict Miss Gladstone’s response.

“What about your family?” The social worker stared Susan down, as though Susan had just told her she planned to commit the ultimate crime.

“What about them?” Susan glared back.

“How will they feel if you decide to keep the child?”

Susan was an adult, and she didn’t need this do-gooder crap. “I am over twenty-one, Miss Gladstone. I don’t need to concern myself as much with my family as I do with what’s right for my baby.”

“What makes you think this is right for your baby?”

“Because I love this baby. I love its father. Hopefully someday we can be reunited.”

“Then you’ve made your decision?”

“Yes.” It was the first time Susan realized that she really had. “I’m going to keep the baby,” she said, as though saying it aloud confirmed it.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. There are so many couples in a position to give a baby a loving, respectable home. Couples who would give anything to have a child of their own, but who cannot. They could give your baby a normal, happy life.”

Susan stood up and paced the living room. “I don’t need to be preached to, Miss Gladstone. I know perfectly well there are people much better suited to raise a baby than I presently am. But let them adopt other babies. They cannot have mine.”

Miss Gladstone fumbled with her briefcase. “Then I guess I won’t be needing you to fill out any forms.”

“No.”
Just take your forms and get the hell out of here
, Susan wanted to say.
Just get the hell out of here and leave me alone
. Her decision had been made, and she wanted to be alone to think about it, to start making plans. She put a hand to the seven-month fetus inside her. Suddenly she was getting excited.

“I’ll talk with the next girl now.”

Susan fled the room, rushing past Ginny as she went. “You’re next. Good luck!”

“
Mazel tov
,” Ginny retorted, and gave her the finger.

When Susan got to her room, it seemed as though her heart would never stop pounding. Maybe she shouldn’t have flown up the two flights of stairs so fast. But there was so much to think about! Screw her parents—they’d get over it.

She pulled a notebook from under a heap of books, grabbed a pen, and flopped on the bed. Where to start.

Options. First. A job.

Where? New York, of course. Well, maybe not. Maybe Boston. Check with P.J. on living conditions in Boston. Maybe it would be cheaper. Boston. Hey, why not? It would put her farther away from her parents, and she could easily find a grad school there. Plus, she had the inheritance from her grandfather. Maybe in Boston it would be enough to pay her expenses—and the baby’s—while she was in school. Her grandmother would certainly approve of Susan using the money to go to grad school, to be on her own. Maybe someday Susan would even be able to bring herself to tell Bubby about the baby. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe someday Bubby would come and sit with the baby, sing soft Hebrew songs, and whisper comforting Hebrew words—the things she had done for Susan when Susan was a child. Maybe. Maybe.

Her thoughts raced on.

After grad school she could get a better job. She’d go for English lit. What better place to get a master’s in English lit than Boston—that great cultural city? She threw down the notebook. Or maybe, by the time she’d finished grad school, David would be back from Vietnam. And maybe he’d be back in her life.
Their
lives. Hers, and their baby’s.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to find P.J.

“P.J.! I need your help!” Susan burst through P.J.’s door. P.J. was there, sitting on the edge of her bed, quietly staring out the window.

“I finally made a decision,” Susan babbled. “I just talked with the social worker, and, shit, I’m going to do it!”

P.J. seemed distracted. “I talked with her too,” she said.

Susan saw the forlorn look on P.J.’s face. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. You had to fill out the forms.”

P.J. nodded.

“It was tough, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. My name. My medical history. Father’s name. Father’s medical history. Father’s—” she paused—“physical features. God, what do they care if he had brown hair or blond? All these months I’ve been trying to forget what the creep looked like. Now they make me bring it all back.”

“Oh, P.J., I’m sorry.”

“Forget it. What were you saying?”

“P.J., the strangest thing happened. Today a light bulb went on in my head. I made the decision. I’m going to keep my baby. I don’t know if I’ll ever see David again, but I can at least have his baby. I still love him. I love them both.”

“Susan, are you sure?”

“Damn sure.” And she was. “God knows what kind of mother I’ll be, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”

There was no way of misinterpreting the scowl on P.J.’s face. She didn’t approve.

“But is it fair to the baby, Susan? Can you imagine the kind of stigma it will have to not have a father? God, I have a friend whose parents are divorced. It was real hard on her when we were young. Kids can be so cruel to other kids.”

“Adults can be pretty cruel too, P.J.”

“But wouldn’t the baby be better off in a normal home with two parents who loved him?”

Susan lit a cigarette and walked to P.J.’s window. She pushed aside the makeup and colognes that lined the sill, opened the window, and blew out smoke. “Sounds to me like you really bought into our Miss Gladstone’s bullshit. It may be right for you, but not for me.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re convinced David will come back to you.”

“David never left me, P.J. I left him.” She stared at the huge oak tree outside P.J.’s window. The leaves were turning golden; another season had passed. “He’ll be back,” she said.

P.J. stood up and touched Susan’s arm. “What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?”

Susan turned to P.J. and smiled. “That’s where you come in. I need your help.”

“My help? How?”

“I’ve decided to live in Boston.”

“Oh,” P.J. groaned. “Lucky you.” She walked over to her bed and flopped down.

“P.J., I know Boston doesn’t hold the greatest memories for you.…”

“Hardly.”

“But I really could use your help. It’s already October. My baby will be born in less than two months. That doesn’t give me much time.”

“Time for what?”

“To get things settled. P.J., come to Boston with me? You know the city—I don’t. Come and help me find an apartment. Then we can come back here, and as soon as the baby’s born, I can take him”—she paused and smiled—“home.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘him’?”

Susan smiled. “I just know.”

If P.J. was reluctant to return to Boston, she didn’t say. They decided Pop would probably let them use the station wagon. They would tell Miss Taylor Susan wanted to go up to Amherst at the end of the week and look at a couple of schools. Instead, they would go to Boston and find an apartment for Susan.