Logan 05 Olivia Read online

  Belinda didn't take a trip until after Daddy had been released from the hospital and his therapy at home had begun. His neurologist felt Daddy might reach 60 percent of his previous motor capabilities during the first six months of therapy, and his speech would become understandable, but after that, improvement, if any, would be very slow and hard in coming. It meant he had to spend hours with a speech therapist and physical therapist. Equipment was brought to the house and the master bedroom became a therapy center. We had to have a special duty nurse round the clock for a while. The activity and presence of all the medical personnel unnerved Belinda. Ironically, Belinda, who was his true blood daughter, couldn't stand, the sight of him twisted and

  diminished in his wheelchair. She avoided him as much as she could during the months of therapy at home. She was at the office more than usual just to get away from it all, and finally decided to take a trip to visit some friends in Florida. I was in my last trimester of pregnancy and although I was feeling the best I had during the entire term, I was glad to get her out of my hair for a while.

  Daddy felt horrible about being a burden and began every one of my visits bemoaning his condition and telling me to simply send everyone away and let him be. He cried a lot too, which Doctor Covington explained to be part of his condition.

  I tried keeping his spirits up by making detailed business reports every afternoon, but most of the time, he was too exhausted to listen or understand, and he often fell asleep while I read off figures or discussed deals and negotiations. I would sit awhile longer to see if he would wake, and then I would leave him in the hands of his nurse.

  Samuel was good about visiting with Daddy and went almost daily. He really didn't enjoy being trapped in an office anyway and looked forward to every excuse to go out and meet with people, even if it meant sitting and watching Daddy go through his therapy. He got permission to take Daddy for some rides and even worked out a short motor boat ride on a particularly beautiful weekend day.

  Before Belinda returned from Florida, Nelson and Louise Childs visited Daddy. Samuel came to tell me that afternoon and I regretted not having been there, even though I thought I looked like a small blimp. I had seen Nelson only a few brief times since the wedding, but before I had become bloated and waddled instead of walked. He and Louise were busy sitting up their home and Nelson had begun to take on more legal chores at his father's firm. I heard he had done well in court and there was even some early talk about him running for a local judgeship. Six months after their wedding, Louise became pregnant, too.

  "He's just trying to keep up with me," Samuel bragged.

  "I hardly think fathering a child is much of an accomplishment, Samuel," I told him. "It's certainly not my test of manhood." He just laughed and shook his head at me the way he always did when I said something with which he didn't agree.

  During the last month of my pregnancy, I spent less time at the office. Samuel brought home the important papers for me to peruse. One night I had some bleeding and I had to be taken to the hospital. It turned out to be nothing serious, but I was irritable and uncomfortable all through my final two weeks. Then, on a Sunday, right before dinner, my water broke and Samuel rushed me to the hospital where I delivered my first-born, a son, whom we named Jacob for my father's father.

  I held my baby in my arms and looked up at Samuel's beaming face.

  "He's the best piece of work we've done together, Olivia," he declared.

  "We've done?"

  "Well, I did have a little to do with it, didn't I?" he protested.

  "Yes, you did, a little. That's what men contribute, a little. You didn't have back pains, vomit, struggle to get up from a chair and go through hell in a delivery room," I reminded him. He laughed.

  "I guess not, but he looks like me, doesn't he?" "Maybe he'll grow out of that," I said and Samuel laughed harder.

  "I declare, Olivia, if I didn't know better I'd think if you could have been both mother and father, you would have, and liked it, too," he said.

  Maybe he was right. In any case, I thought, looking at Jacob's tiny face and hands, I had begun my own family.

  We hired a nanny immediately to help me with Jacob. Her name was Thelma Stuart. She had bad five children of her own, all now grown and away living their own lives. Her husband had died two years before. She was looking for work to keep her occupied and had served as a nanny for a year and a half for a couple I knew, who had recently moved to California. She was a soft-spoken woman, and caring. I was lucky to have her, especially during the early days because Jacob was a colicky baby.

  Nevertheless, Samuel was ecstatic that our firstborn was a male and the sight of Jacob did appear to help brighten Daddy's spirits. He truly enjoyed our visits with Jacob and seemed more animated when the baby was present. He enjoyed holding him. By that time, he had regained use of his arm and he had enough strength to cradle the baby for a few minutes, as long as Thelma stood over him. I didn't have to ask her to do so. From the first day she came to work in our home, Thelma was as protective of Jacob as I would be.

  Belinda had a strange reaction to the sight of her newborn nephew. She complimented him, of course, but she had no interest in holding him, feeding him, or being around him long for that matter. She told Thelma that babies made her nervous. When she looked at Jacob and then lifted her eyes to look at me, we both knew what put this tension in her face.

  "Who'd have thought you would have ever become someone's mother?" she said with a laugh. She meant to tease me, but I glared at her.

  "Why not?" I replied after a moment, "I've had to be yours for so Icing."

  "Very funny, Olivia. You see, Thelma, she's always knocking me down. I could get a complex."

  "Please, spare us," I cried.

  Thelma laughed but I knew she was perceptive enough to see how much of a burden Belinda had been, and still was.

  When Louise Childs gave birth, Samuel was again ecstatic. He came to the office to tell me with a wide, gloating smile on his face.

  "Guess what?" he said stepping into my office. "Louise gave birth this morning, but it was a daughter."

  "There's nothing wrong with having a daughter, Samuel. Are they both doing well?"

  "Yes, but Nelson's not. He went into hiding," he said with a laugh.

  "The only thing with less intelligence than a chauvinistic man is a clam," I declared and he roared.

  "Nevertheless," he bragged, "I've got a boy."

  The first year of Jacob's life passed so quickly, I couldn't believe we were celebrating his first birthday so soon. Daddy had improved to the point where he could carry on a short conversation and walk with a walker. His arm didn't quite regain half its strength and his hand was more like a claw. He had to eat very slowly and it was always very messy. Belinda got so she couldn't take a meal with him and avoided doing so.

  "It turns my stomach to see the soup drool down his chin or the food on his lip, Olivia. Don't yell at me," she cried when I complained about her leaving Daddy to eat his dinner alone every single night. "I can't eat and that upsets him more!"

  I didn't doubt she had trouble sitting there. She was never good at stomaching anything. Even a cut on her finger terrified her. The sight of blood turned her a shade whiter than milk. I never forgot how sickly pale and terrified she looked the night she gave birth to the premature fetus.

  "Well, try not to make him feel like some sort of creature, Belinda. Imagine what he's going through and remember some of the unpleasantness he helped you through," I lectured.

  "I'll try," she promised, but still she rarely ate with him.

  Maybe Daddy was better off with her out of his sight. She was still doing little with her life. She tried to take an adult education secretarial course given at the high school in the evening, promising to master some skills and really do some worthwhile work at the office. Daddy actually had high hopes for her, and was very upset when he learned a few months later that she had stopped going to the class. She pretended she had been att
ending, but simply met her degenerate friends and either went bar hopping or, when the weather was good, to a party on the beach or on someone's yacht. It got so I couldn't keep track of whom she was with and when. There were just too many new boys in her life.

  The stories about her flowed freely my way, of course. Our acquaintances, especially the wives of our business associates, loved leaking the tales to me or to Samuel. Finally, I decided to take some serious action and I went to see Daddy early one afternoon. I was determined to stop my sister from tearing down everything good and respectable about our family. Why should I be afraid to go to fine restaurants or social affairs, afraid that someone would mention her and ruin my evening?

  I found Daddy dozing in the living room and woke him. I told him I had come to talk about Belinda. His eyes grew dark.

  "We can't ignore her any longer," I began. "I've written to the Collier Business College in Boston, and I've gotten Belinda enrolled in their courses for a year. Yesterday, I spoke with Cousin Paula, and she agreed to rent her upstairs room to Belinda. It's walking distance from the school. You've got to insist she goes and you've got to threaten to cut off all funds from her if she doesn't go and succeed. If you don't take a strong stand with her now, Daddy, I don't know what will become of her. This is the very last time I'm going to try to help."

  He stared at me with those big, watery eyes. His lower lip still looked unhinged in the right corner, just showing some of his teeth.

  He nodded and promised, but I had to come to the house and be there when Belinda put up her usual opposition.

  "I don't want to live with Cousin Paula," she whined.

  "She's old and cranky. She'll make my life miserable. I'd rather have my own apartment," she concluded. "Or I won't go," she said stamping her foot like some petulant five-year-old.

  "That's an enormous expense and frankly, Belinda, it would be a gamble in your case and Daddy and our family have lost enough money because of you. You don't need your own apartment. Cousin Paula lives alone. It will work out well for both of you."

  "She never liked me, Daddy," she moaned, "and I never liked her. She's the one with hair on her chin. How can a woman look at herself in the mirror and let hairs grow on her chin?"

  "She doesn't have to fall in love with you, Belinda, and you don't have to fall in love with her. Just obey her rules and go to school. This is your very last opportunity to do something with your life."

  "Why? I'm going to get married anyway. I'll just make sure to marry someone with money." "When?"

  "Soon," she promised.

  "Until then, develop some skills. You can return and work in our business if you have some skills," I added.

  "Oh, won't that be wonderful," she moaned. She looked away and then at Daddy. "I can't go to Boston for a year. Daddy needs me here."

  "You're not here much and when you are, you're of no help to him anyway," I snapped. "Now, Daddy and I have discussed this and you either go to school or get a job, a real job, not working for us. Frankly, you can't do anything for us, but maybe you can work as a waitress or something."

  "A waitress? Never."

  "Daddy is not going to give you any more money," I said sternly.

  "Daddy," she pleaded, turning to him. I looked at him and he raised his heavy, sad eyes to me. I made a face, warning him to hold fast.

  "Olivia's . . . right," he said. He struggled with his words, but he got them said. "I've been wrong not to make you do something before this."

  "That's great. The both of you ganging up on me!" She folded her arms under her breasts and pouted for a moment, her conniving little brain twisting and turning in that spoiled head like some snake in a basket. Then her eyes brightened. "Am I getting an allowance for Boston, then?"

  "You'll get what you need, what you reasonably need," I said.

  "Daddy will decide how much I get," she fired back at me. "Then I'll go."

  I looked at him and he closed his eyes, opened them and nodded at me.

  "You're a spoiled brat, Belinda. You've only taken from your family and you haven't given back anything."

  "I do the best I can," she cried. "Don't I, Daddy?" He grimaced.

  "Let's end this," I said. "Daddy can't take much more. I'll make arrangements for your transportation and call Cousin Paula tonight."

  "You can't wait to get rid of me. I don't know why," she sang, her eyes bemused. "I'm not trying to take anyone away from you."

  "There is no one you could take from me that I wouldn't give up if they went with you anyway, Belinda."

  "Huh?"

  "Forget it," I said. "I hope you really try to do something this time. I really do. Otherwise . ."

  "Otherwise, what?"

  "I'll sell you to the highest bidder," I said and left to make the arrangements.

  Despite her protestations, Belinda was happy to be leaving the house. She was always excited about going to Boston. She got Daddy to buy her a new wardrobe, over my objections, and I knew she was planning on moving out of Cousin Paula's house and getting her own apartment as soon as she could work it out. She would then invite her bubble-gum friends to Boston and the whole attempt to help her make something of herself would be another bust, I was sure. However, I had at least tried. I owed that to Mother and after this, I felt that my debt was well paid.

  Little did I know I was just beginning to endure the true cost. I was actually fooled into thinking that I had finally made the right choice for Belinda. She enrolled and began her schooling without any more whining and crying. She even got along with Cousin Paula at the start, and after a few weeks, she sent us rather good reports from the school.

  With her gone from Provincetown, the stories died and I was able to concentrate on business and my family. We expanded even more. Samuel told me Nelson thought we should consider offering stock in our company on the stock exchange.

  "Let him come and discuss it with me himself," I told Samuel, but Nelson didn't come.

  His father retired from the firm and Nelson became the senior partner. He won some significant cases in Boston and was written up in the local papers as well as the Boston ones. Nelson was then appointed to fill out the term of a judgeship. It was assumed he would run for political office in the near future.

  I remember feeling that our lives had rounded some long and arduous turn and we were coasting along now, relatively secure and content. Jacob was running about and spending many of his afternoons with Daddy, who had begun to feel so good he started to violate the rules about smoking and diet. When I chastised him, he begged me to let him have the simple pleasures. That was all he had left, he claimed.

  I was so involved in my own work that I paid little attention to Samuel and never noticed that he was unhappy. One night at dinner, he put down his silverware and put his elbows on the table.

  "I think it's time you and I had a little talk, Olivia," he began firmly, his eyes so fixed on me they were like two welding torches.

  It was quite uncharacteristic of Samuel to take this tone of voice with me, especially in the presence of our servants. I raised my eyebrows and then looked at Thelma who had just finished feeding Jacob.

  "You can take him to his room now, Thelma," I instructed and she did so. "What is it, Samuel?" I asked as soon as she was gone. "What could possibly be bothering you so much that you would speak like that to me in front of Thelma?"

  "You have no idea?" he said amazed.

  "No, I don't. I'm sorry, but I've been quite busy these days. In any case I'm not in the mood to play some game of Twenty Questions. If something is bothering you, tell me what it is directly, without any unnecessary dramatics."

  He shook his head and looked away a moment before turning back to me.

  "Your door, Olivia, has been locked for months and months now. I've respected it and I haven't pushed myself on you, but it's not natural for a man and a woman to live like this when they're married," he said. Then he sat back. "Did you know that Louise Childs is pregnant again? There are no loc
ked doors in that marriage."

  "Oh, so that's it. You're afraid Nelson Childs will pull ahead of you in this baby-making contest," I accused.

  "No, that's not it, Olivia. My God! I have needs, male needs, and I can't imagine why you don't have female needs. All these months . . you were never once attracted, interested in me?"

  He looked amazed, even hurt. I softened and sat back to sip my coffee.

  "I've just been very occupied, Samuel. It has nothing to do with you."

  "What do you mean it has nothing to do with me? How do you think I've felt all this time? You go to sleep at night. You put aside your work and worries for a little while, don't you?" He glared at me. "Well?"

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't have relations on my mind."

  "On your mind?" He laughed and then leaned forward, his hands folded, his arms on the table. "I hope that door's not locked tonight," he said. It couldn't have sounded more like a threat. I felt the heat rise to my face and my heart began to thump.

  "Don't take that tone with me, Samuel. I won't have it. I'm not anyone's plaything."

  He snorted.

  "Plaything? You're about as far away from being that as . . . as a nun."

  "That's enough. Change the topic," I ordered. I turned away from him.

  I felt him glaring at me a moment and then he rose and left the room. I sat there, trembling. How could he speak to me like that? What had given him the courage?

  Miss Hot and Miss Cold . . I could hear the children chanting it at us. Was it still true for me? Samuel was far from an ugly man and most of the women I knew flirted with him and probably fantasized about him. Why I should be so indifferent, I didn't know, but I couldn't help how I was, could I? Surely, I wouldn't have become like this if I had married Nelson, I thought. Or would I?

  That night, I fingered the lock on the adjoining door, but in the end, I didn't unlock it. I went to bed with it remaining in place. After I had put out the lights, I heard Samuel try the door and then curse under his breath. Following dinner he had gone to the den and had sat for the remainder of the evening drinking brandy. He had his back to the door and didn't turn when I looked in on him before going up to sleep.