Sins of Innocence Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought of Jack Kennedy, of Bobby. Would Ted’s tumultuous life have been different if they had survived?
    Beside Susan, Freida sighed audibly. “When was the last time you saw Leah Levin?”
    Susan knew her mother always tried to bring her grandmother into the conversation when she wanted to attack Susan’s conscience. As usual, it worked.
    “I took Mark to see her over the Fourth of July.”
    “That’s two months ago.”
    “Mother, a boy hardly wants to spend time hanging around a nursing home.”
    “
Retirement
home. Not nursing home. Besides, she’s your grandmother. You could find time to go alone.”
    Her mother was right. Her grandmother—“Bubby,” as Susan still called her—deserved more from her granddaughter. “She’s in New York, Mother. I live in Vermont. It’s a five-hour drive.”
    “Your only remaining grandparent. It seems the least you could do for an old lady all alone. I’ve tried to get her to come down to live in Florida. Haven’t I tried, Joseph?”
    Susan’s father mopped his brow, nodded, and disappeared around the corner of the house with his pruning shears.
    Even poor Bubby can’t seem to please Mother, Susan thought. “Her arthritis is bad,” she defended her grandmother. “Plus she hates the heat, you know that. And she has friends in New York.”
    “She’d feel like she had family, too, if you’d visit her more often.”
    Susan wanted to scream. She looked back at the picture of Kennedy.
Families
, she groaned to herself.
    Freida looked at her watch. “It’s almost time for lunch,” she said flatly.
    “Did somebody say ‘lunch’?”
    “There’s my boy,” Freida said, and patted the side of her chaise. “Come sit by Grandma and tell me what you’ve been doing all morning.”
    Susan watched her son bound across the patio. Hewas already taller than Susan’s five-eleven height. Thankfully he hadn’t inherited his father’s short stature. And as yet, Mark hadn’t shown any proclivity toward the “fat” genes that she and Lawrence both seemed to have.
    “Dad called,” Mark said as he plopped next to Freida. “He’s been in Lauderdale on business. He’s going back to New York late tonight for Rosh Hashanah, but he wants to take me out for dinner, okay, Mom?”
    Susan started to protest, when Freida jumped in. “Out? Not a chance. If your father is in town, he’ll have dinner with all of us tonight. Here. Tell him we’re having challah and roast chicken and noodle kugel. Our New Year’s feast one day early—seeing as how your mother insists on leaving on the holiday.”
    “Mother …”
    Freida turned to her daughter and pointed a finger. “It’s bad enough you refuse to follow your traditions, but in my house, we do as I say. Now, Lawrence Brosky may be your ex-husband, but he is always welcome here. He is my grandson’s father, so we’ll celebrate together the way we should. As a family.”
    She turned back to Mark and ruffled his hair. “Go call him back and tell him seven o’clock.”
    Mark scurried away. Susan’s father returned to the patio, set down his shears, and wiped his hands. “Lawrence is coming for dinner?”
    “Won’t it be nice to see him? We haven’t seen him in a month. Or is it two?”
    Susan picked at a sliver that had become embedded beneath a chewed fingernail. She couldn’t remember the last time she, Lawrence, and their son were together in the same room for more than a few “hello-and-good-bye” minutes—was it at Mark’s bar mitzvah? But the sight of Lawrence made Susan sick. He seemed to be getting shorter, fatter, and balder as time passed. She hated the way Mark admired him. She hated the way her mother fluttered over him. And she hated the way her father talked to him about the business in such a respectful, proud way. Face it, Susan said to herself, being around Lawrence makes you miserable.“I would have appreciated it if you’d consulted with me first,” she said.
    “You’re the one who divorced