Logan 05 Olivia Page 11

  "I don't mean she's not a good lover. I'm sure she is . . . quite the lover, but she's been in trouble before, bad trouble. You have no idea how bad," I continued, relentless now. "My father has had more than his hands full rescuing her from one disaster after another, but this is one that threatens the very foundation of our family and I won't let it happen."

  I spun on him.

  "I would personally expose the both of you," I said. "You might as well pack your bags and take the next tugboat out of here, Nelson Childs. You talk about becoming an elected official, building a law practice? On what? A big scandal?"

  "Olivia, please, I .. ." He looked down. "I don't even want to try to defend myself. You're right, absolutely right," he confessed. "I let my hormones take control. It would destroy both our families."

  "I can expect something like this from Belinda. In fact, I was anticipating it, but to discover that you were involved . . . I never would have thought it, Nelson. I'm so disappointed," I added, nearly in tears.

  He nodded.

  "I'm disappointed in myself, too." He turned to me, his eyes wet, his lips firm. "You really have no reason to believe me, Olivia, but I swear to you I won't disappoint you again," he said.

  I turned away and stared out the window, my heart pounding. How handsome he is, I thought. How much I wished he would embrace me, want me, risk all for me as he had for Belinda.

  "Well, I want to have faith in you, Nelson," I said.

  "Thank you," he replied quickly. "I have a great deal of respect for you, Olivia. It's important to me that I don't lose the respect you could have for me."

  I gazed at him. Why couldn't he think of more between us than mere respect?

  "People earn each other's respect," I said.

  "That's right."

  I held his gaze for a moment and then looked ahead. "All right then," I said. "This will just be between us." "Thank you, Olivia. You won't be disappointed in me," he promised.

  I nodded. I was disappointed already, but I didn't know how to-express why. I started my car engine.

  "I've got to go back to school this afternoon," he said. "Have a good week."

  "You too," I said without looking at him.

  "Bye."

  I watched him get out and walk to his car. He turned, smiled and waved and I pulled away, my heart heavy, its thump more like a chime in a grandfather's clock, declaring another second, another minute, and soon another hour of my life had passed and still, still I was all alone.

  Two weeks later, Daddy came into my office at work to tell me that he had just heard Nelson Childs had become engaged to a young woman from a prominent Boston family.

  6

  Sour Grapes

  .

  During those weeks between the time I had

  confronted Nelson and when I finally heard about his engagement, I permitted myself to fantasize about us. I chastised myself afterward for being a fool, even more foolish than Belinda because she could fantasize and then forget it and just fantasize about someone else, whereas I treated my broken dreams as if they were family heirlooms, shattered beyond repair.

  I had actually anticipated a phone call from Nelson. I imagined that he had left our talk in my car believing that I was someone exceptional, someone so special he wanted to know me more, see and talk to me more. I was substantial. Surely someone as intelligent and as ambitious as he was would realize the importance of having a wife who had my qualities.

  I envisioned him waking up one morning, slapping himself on the side of the head and saying, "What was I thinking? Here was Olivia Gordon all this time, unattached, attractive and sensible, and I go having assignations in the dead of night with her childish sister, risking my whole career, my

  reputation, my family's reputation, and for what?"

  Any minute that phone in the office or at home would ring and it would be Nelson asking if he and I could have dinner the night he returned from college. I would pretend to consider and then agree and we would go out and have a wonderful time, discovering we really did have similar interests and ambitions. The date would grow into another and another, and in weeks, a few months at the most, he would ask me to marry him. Belinda's wedding would be followed by announcements of my own engagement and impending nuptials. In days I would soar so high and so far past her, her head would spin. Finally, finally, I would be rewarded for being the good daughter.

  Daddy's words about Nelson therefore resembled a clap of thunder in my head, a storm of No's and disbelief twirled in the angry clouds that swirled around my thoughts in a tempest of agony.

  "The Colonel just called to tell me Nelson's engaged to a Louise Branagan. Her grandfather was a state supreme court judge. It will be in all the social columns next week and they're planning on an engagement party a month after Belinda's wedding."

  I barely acknowledged Daddy. I simply stared up at him, my blank expression masking my crushed heart.

  "I guess I was way off the mark thinking I might make a marriage between Nelson Childs and Belinda, huh?"

  "Yes, Daddy," I said, and I thought, we were both well off the mark.

  I was worthless for the remainder of that day and during the days that followed. I moped about the house, hid from people and especially avoided Belinda, who floated on her own laughter and smiles as if she were made of air and the rest of us were lumps of clay. She went on and on about the wonderful life she and Carson were going to have, the home she would have him build, the clothing, the cars, the trips she had planned.

  "We have decided . . . actually, I have decided . . . that we should go to Bermuda for our honeymoon. We're going to stay in the most expensive hotel, too. I went to the travel agency and I told them to find me the best and not to be concerned about cost. Just charge it to Carson McGil. I'll have to get used to saying that now, won't I, Olivia?" She smiled. "Just charge it please, charge it to Carson McGil."

  "When you marry someone, Belinda, you care about him. You don't set out to bankrupt him or hurt him in any way. You and he are supposed to be together, for better or for worse. You're supposed to look out for each other," I lectured.

  "That's ridiculous. I shouldn't, have to look out for him. He should always look out for me, protect me, provide for me, want to do everything possible to make me happy," she retorted.

  "And you do nothing to make him happy?"

  "If I'm happy, he'll be happy; if I'm sad, he'll be sad," she threatened. "Carson's already learned that and accepted it. He knows if he wants me, he takes me as I am, and, dear sister, he wants me, wants me very, very much."

  She giggled and whispered.

  "I've been promising him the greatest of honeymoon nights, pleasure beyond his wildest imagination, and you should see the way he drools. I swear his tongue dangles like a dog's sometimes. He treats every one of my kisses as if each was a jewel, so I deliberately don't kiss him very often. He thinks I'm terrified of sex."

  I shook my head and she grimaced.

  "I won't be unhappy, Olivia," she insisted, pursing her lips. "I'm doing all this, marrying Carson because it's good for the family, but I don't have to be unhappy too, do I?"

  "Perish the thought," I said. "In the beginning I actually felt sorry for you, Belinda. I thought you might be doing something you really don't want to do, but now I realize Carson's the one I should feel sorry for, not you."

  "That's dreadful. What a dreadful thing to say." She smiled, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "I hear the ding-dong of jealousy," she sang.

  "That's not true."

  "Ding-dong, ding-dong."

  "Stop it!"

  "Well, stop trying to make me feel bad. Carson is very happy he has me. If you ask him today, he'll tell you he's the luckiest man in the world. He probably is. He's getting the woman of his dreams," she added and went off believing in her own propaganda.

  She was far from the woman of his dreams. It sickened me to think all men were as gullible and blind as Carson McGil, but that's the way it looked to me now. E
ven Nelson Childs was beguiled by my sister.

  One Saturday afternoon soon after, Carson came calling on Belinda to take her on a shopping spree in Boston. She had already bragged to me how much of his money she would spend and how she would insist he take her to one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. Then she would fall asleep in the car and leave him to drive her home like a chauffeur.

  "And," she added with confidence, "he's happy to do it."

  Daddy was fishing with some of his business associates and Mother was upstairs in her room, nursing another one of her bad stomachaches. They were coming more frequently lately. She blamed it on her own nervousness concerning Belinda's impending wedding and all the preparations. I believed her.

  Carmelita let Carson in and had him wait in the sitting room. I was in Daddy's den reviewing some bills he had asked me to check. I heard the doorbell, listened and then went back to my work. Moments later, however, I was surprised when Carson came to the den door and looked in on me.

  "Oh, sorry if I disturbed you," he said with a weak smile. "I'm just waiting for Belinda. She's late," he added.

  "As usual," I said. "It's all right, Carson. Come in, please," I said sitting back in Daddy's oversized leather chair. I'm sure I looked like Goldilocks sitting in Papa Bear's chair.

  "This is a nice den and office. It has . . . personality. I can see your father here. The room fits him like a glove," he muttered, his eyes darting about, avoiding mine. Why did my presence make him so nervous? I wondered.

  "Is everything all right between you and Belinda?" I asked directly.

  He turned sharply and nodded.

  "Oh, yes, sure. It's just an exciting time for both of us. She so much wants to do the right thing," he added. "Finally," I muttered.

  "Pardon?"

  "Nothing. It's nice that you two are so happy," I said and pulled my chair up to the desk, intending to return to my work and end this silly chitter-chatter before it really had begun.

  "Well, we have our little ups and downs just as any couple would, but overall . . ."

  I gazed up at him. He was having some last minute stage fright, I thought. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as he appeared. Suddenly, I did feel sorry for him.

  "My sister is lucky to have landed a catch like you, Carson."

  "Oh no," he said modestly, his face turning a bright pink, "I'm the lucky one."

  "It's generous of you to say that," I said, "considering her troubled past."

  "What's that?" He smiled with question marks in his eyes. "Troubled past?"

  He clutched his hat against his chest as if it were a shield to protect him from the slings and arrows I might throw his way.

  I smiled with bitter sweetness.

  "Well, now that you're practically a member of our family, it's not wrong for you to be aware that Belinda's had problems. She was in finishing school, you know, but it didn't work out and we had to bring her home."

  "Oh that, yes," he said with a look of relief, "She told me all about it."

  "Told you? Told you what?" I said sitting back again, my finger tips pressed against each other.

  "How she was wrongly accused of stealing some girl's jewelry in the dorm and how the other girls, all jealous, took the other girl's side. She couldn't continue living there under those

  circumstances," he declared with the firmness of a protector.

  "Is that the fairy tale she devised?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Belinda was expelled, Carson. You might as well know the truth. You're going to discover it anyway someday."

  "Expelled for stealing," he said nodding.

  "No, not for stealing," I replied. He stared a moment, looked at the doorway and then sat.

  "What was it then?"

  "Let's call it promiscuity," I said. His eyebrows nearly leaped off his face.

  "Promiscuity?" He paused, raising the level of his courage so he could say his words. "You mean of a sexual nature?"

  "I don't know any other," I said as sweetly as I could. "But she learned her lesson from that, as well as the other things," I said. "You shouldn't be concerned now."

  "What other things?"

  "Problems she had when she was in high school," I said as casually as I could. "All girls have some."

  "Did you?"

  "Nothing like the ones Belinda had, but Belinda is Belinda," I replied.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "We're all individuals, Carson. Some of us are more liberal with our bodies than others, have greater appetites. It's what makes for horse races, right? Differences? You love her because she's who she is, don't you?"

  "I . . I thought I knew who she was."

  "Well, what do you two talk about if not each other's pasts?" I asked in all innocence.

  "I told her all about myself, yes, but she never mentioned any. . . promiscuity, you say? Expelled for it? What sort of promiscuity? I mean, what did she do?"

  "You have to understand she was so much less mature then," I said.

  "It wasn't very long ago," he replied quickly.

  "The events matured her," I said. "Sometimes that happens when things are bigger than we expect." "You mean there was something of a scandal?"

  "Almost. Daddy and I stopped it before it started," I bragged.

  He shook his head, his eyes glassy, numb.

  "I had no idea. Who else knows this?"

  "Besides the family . . . administrators at the school, some other girls, of course, and of course the boys involved," I said.

  "Boys? You mean there was more than one?"

  "Oh, why talk about something a girl did when she was young and immature, Carson. That's not the girl you know now, right? That's not the girl you proposed to, the girl you want to build a home for, the girl you want to have your children, if she still can have children, of course."

  "What? Why couldn't she?"

  "That's an entirely different matter, Carson. I don't feel right discussing it, even with Belinda's future husband. It's something that should be between you, your wife and your doctor," I added.

  "I had no idea . . . about any of this," he said shaking his head. "I don't put my ear to the walls surrounding gossip, and I know so few of Belinda's contemporaries. None of her girlfriends, in point of fact."

  "You're not missing anything there," I said. "Her friends are . . . mostly undesirable. You won't want to have any of them to your home, much less your wedding."

  His mouth dropped open.

  "I'm sorry," I said, "but I promised my father I would review and correct these documents today and . . ." "Oh, yes." He rose.

  We heard Belinda bouncing down the stairs. He looked at me with the expression of a man who was about to go to his doom.

  "Carson McGil," she sang in the hallway. "Where are you hiding? I know you wouldn't dare be late for a date with me. Carson?"

  He started out of the den as Belinda appeared in the doorway.

  "There you are. Visiting with Olivia? How nice. We're on our way to Boston, Olivia."

  "I know. You told me twice already, Belinda." "Don't you get tired of doing men's work?" she said with her little impish smile.

  "It's not men's work. It's not women's work. It's work," I said. "That's a word that has never felt at home in Belinda's vocabulary," I explained to Carson. He nodded.

  "I don't want to make it comfortable in my vocabulary," she whined. "Play," she followed, "that's the word that will be the most valued guest in my house. Right, Carson, dear?"

  He looked at her and then to me.

  "We better be going," he announced.

  "Have a nice time. Both of you," I said.

  Carson nodded and started out of the room. Belinda's eyes grew small with suspicion for a moment and then, whatever thought had flashed across her movie-screen mind disappeared and was replaced with her usual fanfare.

  "Thank you, Olivia. We will," she promised and spun quickly to shoot her hand under Carson's arm.

  I heard them leave the house and al
l grew quiet again. The small tight ball at the bottom of my stomach dissipated and waves of warm glee traveled to my heart, oozing satisfaction through my veins. Watching Carson's face shatter like some thin, plastic mask felt good. Men should feel the brunt of their own stupidity. They should feel the heel of truth come down on their naked feet.

  I had no sense of guilt. If Carson couldn't accept Belinda for what she was, that was his problem, not mine. Someday, he would come see me and thank me for being so honest, for being the only one who dared to open his. eyes. Belinda would have to be honest with him, too. A marriage should have truth as part of its foundation, shouldn't it? It was wrong for Daddy to keep it all buried. How would he like to buy a boat that had weak joints in its hull? How would he like to discover the truth when he was already out to sea? Well, that's what it would be like for Carson McGil, wouldn't it? One day, months into their marriage, the truth about Belinda would reveal itself and Carson would feel like a man on a sinking vessel. It was better he went to sea knowing the dangers, the weaknesses in his little boat of love.

  For a while that afternoon, I felt like someone who had performed a great act of charity. Who would criticize me for ensuring that my sister's marriage was based upon trust? Yes, I felt very good. I felt as if I had struck a blow for every decent, sensible woman in America, and if men like Nelson Childs and Carson McGil didn't appreciate that, well, too bad. Someday, they would.

  After I finished Daddy's bookkeeping, I had lunch and went out to read in the gazebo. It was a gloriously sunny day with only pockets of milk-white clouds bursting here and there over the azure sky. The sea was calm; the sailboats looked dabbed by an artist's brush on the canvas of the Atlantic Ocean. There was a fresh, even delicious scent to the salt air. I really did appreciate and love our home. I could be no other place. This was where I would make my life, find my own husband and raise my own family. I felt more confident about it, more sure of myself, despite the recent events. Nature demonstrated itself all around me and taught the lesson: the strong eventually win. It's only a matter of time.

  I hadn't been sitting there long when, like a small bomb exploding, Belinda burst through the back door of the house, tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands raised as if she had puppet strings tied to her wrists.