"Let's get some champagne," Samuel suggested, took my arm and led me toward the roving waitresses. With our glasses in hand, we approached Nelson's parents and wished them the best. Nelson's mother noticed my ring immediately and asked about it.
"We thought we might as well join the happily married couples in this world," Samuel declared.
The news spread so fast through the gathering it was as if the breeze had its own lips and whispered in every ear. Heads turned, some congratulated us quickly, others just nodded and raised their glasses in a silent ceremonial toast. When Daddy arrived, he was quickly surrounded by his friends and associates and congratulated as well.
Nelson's fiancee hugged me and wished me luck, too. She raved about my ring. Hers was a little larger, but I thought mine more elegant because of the baguettes. I was grateful to the jeweler who had given Samuel advice and eventually told him so. Except for a quick greeting and a smile and nod of
congratulations from him, Nelson didn't spend much time talking to us. In all fairness, he was in demand at every turn and it was difficult for him to take too much time with any one couple.
Just before we all sat at the tables to begin the sumptuous feast, Daddy came to tell me he was making his subtle exit. He was too nervous about Mother to stay much longer, he said.
"She doesn't even know I left the house. She wasn't awake."
"She's been sleeping a lot now, Daddy."
"I know." His face was somber for a moment and then he smiled. "Everyone's raving about you, Olivia. I think you and Samuel stole some of the Childs' spotlight here."
"I doubt that, Daddy," I said. "This is quite an engagement party."
It was such an elaborate affair with caviar hors d'oeuvres, shrimp and lobster entrees, as well as prime cuts of beef and roast turkey, bowls filled with at least a dozen varieties of salads, a half dozen differently prepared dishes of potatoes, Portuguese breads and rolls and a Viennese dessert cart that actually drew applause. Nothing was spared to make this one of the most memorable occasions of the social season.
Those who took time to speak to me and to Samuel asked after Mother, but really didn't want to talk about her at all. It was as if any possible suggestion of anything unpleasant was absolutely forbidden this afternoon. "Just don't ask," I wanted to say, and leave it at that.
"What a wonderful surprise to give your mother at this difficult time in her life," Mrs. Roddentrout, one of Mother's friends told me before coffee was served. "Very thoughtful of you, dear," she added as if becoming engaged was something you went out and did to make others happy.
"I assure you, Mrs. Roddentrout, it wasn't preplanned to happen at any particular time," I replied and she looked at me in total confusion. I nearly laughed.
Samuel knew many of the business people at the party and found himself embroiled in conversation most of the afternoon. I watched Nelson and his fiancee and occasionally caught him gazing at me and throwing me a smile, or lifting his glass to toast me, too.
Dancing started and I was suddenly taken by surprise when Nelson asked me to dance immediately after he had danced with his fiancee.
"It's only proper that I dance with all the engaged women here today," he said. Samuel laughed. "Do I have your permission, Samuel?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said, "but you'd better ask Olivia. She's the one who has to agree," he wisely added. "Miss Gordon?"
I rose from my seat and we went onto the dance floor. I felt every female eye on us as he took my hand and put his other hand on my waist.
"You look beautiful. I'm really happy for you, Olivia," he said. "I hope you'll be as happy as I will."
"I don't know how happy you'll be, Nelson, so I won't agree to that just yet," I said.
He laughed nervously.
"I can see that you and I will always have to be direct and truthful with each other," he realized.
"All right," I said, my eyes fixed on his. "Let's make that promise."
"Okay, let's play truth or dare, Olivia," he challenged. "Let's."
He brought his cheek closer to mine and whispered. "Are you in love, Olivia?"
"Are you?"
"I think so," he said.
"I expect to be," I said.
He pulled back slowly and I looked into his eyes. They were laughing and full of sparkling light. Butterflies panicked in my chest. I was afraid he would see how much I cared for him. I felt as though I would soon be standing naked in front of him, unable to hide a thought, a feeling, a dream.
"You and I are more alike than I would have first thought," he said, his eyes turning dark and serious for the moment. "I hope we will always be friends."
"So do I," I said.
When he drew me to him again, I was sure he could feel my heart pounding against his chest.
"Did you tell your sister to stay away today?" he asked. I stiffened.
"Absolutely not. She thought this would be a boring affair," I said and he laughed.
"That's what I like about her, too. She says just what she thinks and feels. It's refreshing when you spend most of your time surrounded by dishonesty."
"Refreshing?" I said thinking now about my mother's revelations. "Sometimes, keeping the truth to yourself makes for more happiness."
He shrugged.
"Who knows who will be the happiest of us all? I wish we had a crystal ball."
"It wouldn't stop some of us from making the same mistakes," I remarked.
He laughed again, but this time with a deeper, darker sound.
When the dance ended, he escorted me back to my table.
"I was getting jealous," Samuel said. "You two looked too good out there."
"Just let yourself go, Samuel. Relax more and you'll look good, too," Nelson advised him. He winked, thanked me for the dance and returned to his fiancee.
We had come to the party thinking we would steal the glitter and glamour, riding the wave of social acceptance, but at the moment, I felt as though I was sinking. A rush of sadness washed through my very being. The sky was still a soft blue with only scattered clouds, but the chill in my bones told me a storm was just beyond the horizon.
"I think I'd better go home, Samuel," I said. "I'm worried about Mother."
"Oh, certainly," he said. "This is about over anyway."
All the way home Samuel bragged about how his friends and acquaintances congratulated him on our engagement.
"Every one of them thought we were a perfect match, Olivia. We're going to do great things together."
He rambled on and on, but I didn't hear much. My mind was on Nelson and our intimate moments on the dance floor. What had he seen in my eyes? How had it affected him? Would we always be close friends?
"Well?" Samuel asked.
"What?"
"I just asked you when you thought I should come by tomorrow to take you to see the house and the property. I'll have the architect there if you like."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was in deep thought about Mother. You should call me about ten and I'll let you know how things are," I said.
"Fine. I can't wait for you to see it, Olivia. Your father's seen it, you know. He thinks it's a spectacular piece of property."
"You took him to see the house and land already?"
"Well, not exactly to see our property. I took him to see the historic house when I was
contemplating the purchase. I respect his business sense," Samuel quickly explained.
I was still suspicious of all this, but before I could say or ask anything else, we turned in to my driveway and I saw the ambulance parked in front of the house.
"Oh no!" I cried. "I knew something was wrong."
Samuel drove up quickly and parked. I jumped out of the car and hurried to the front door. I stopped in the entryway and looked up to see the paramedics carrying Mother on a stretcher down the stairs with Daddy trailing behind and the nurse behind him. Mother didn't look conscious.
"What happened?" I cried.
"I think she's fallen into a coma,
" the nurse said. "We're getting her to the hospital."
"Doctor Covington will meet us there," Daddy said. "I can drive both of you," Samuel offered.
"No, no. I'm fine. You can do me a favor, however," Daddy told him.
"What?"
"Belinda. I called and told her we'd be by to pick her up, but she's in the opposite direction. Do you know where Thomas Hughes' house is?"
"I'll find it," Samuel said. "I'll go by and bring her over to the hospital. I'm sorry," he said watching them load Mother into the ambulance.
Daddy and I went directly to his car and Samuel drove off to get Belinda. They arrived before Doctor Covington had come out to the lobby to confer with us. Belinda always kept her eyes fixed forward on me or Daddy when she was in the hospital. She only glanced furtively at anything else- around her as if she believed looking at nurses and doctors, patients and machines might make her sick, too.
"Samuel told me you two were the hit of the party," Belinda began. She didn't even ask about Mother.
"I'm hardly thinking about the party, Belinda. We just brought Mother here in an ambulance. Don't you ever think of anything but fluff?"
"I was just trying to say something nice," she wailed. "I'm scared, too."
She sat sulking between Samuel and Daddy. I paced by the window until Doctor Covington came out to see us. I could tell from the look in his face, despite his stoicism, that things were not good.
"She has indeed fallen into a coma. I'm afraid it might be for the best," he added. "Her cancer has spread."
"Can't you just have it cut out like the last time?" Belinda cried.
"I'm afraid not," he replied softly. "It's gone too far for any of that now."
Belinda began to sob. Samuel put his arm around her and she dropped her head to his shoulder and cried more freely.
"How long will this continue?" I asked the doctor. Daddy was just staring at him.
"Days, maybe a week. It's hard to say at this point, Olivia," he replied. "We'll do all we can to keep her from experiencing any pain," he promised. He turned to Daddy. "I'm sorry, Winston."
Daddy widened and brightened his eyes as if they were two small flashlights he had just turned on.
"Yes, thank you," he said and then looked to me.
"We'll look in on her and then go home," I decided. Daddy turned to Doctor Covington, his eyes questioning.
"Yes, that would be fine," the doctor said as if anything we did now had little consequence anyway.
Belinda couldn't stop crying so she remained in the lobby with Samuel. Daddy and I went into the room. The nurse stepped away from the bed as we approached. Her eyes were full of the prognosis; she had seen patients near death before, and there was no false hope in her face, only a slight smile of sympathy.
"I'll be right outside," she whispered and left us.
Daddy folded his hands into fists as we both looked at Mother. His body stiffened, the anger overtaking the sorrow in him for a few moments.
"She doesn't look like she's suffering, Daddy," I said. He nodded.
"No, she doesn't," he said relaxing. "In fact, she looks younger."
"If I know her, she's already dreaming of being someplace more pleasant," I said.
Daddy smiled through his teary eyes. He took Mother's hand in his and stood there, and for the first time in all my life, I realized that despite how I thought he viewed her all these years, despite what value I had imagined he had placed on her as a wife, he really loved her as much as a man could love a woman. Mother was right about that.
I wondered.
Would a man ever love me that much? Was Samuel capable of it?
More important, did I really want his love to be that strong?
Or was I like Mother, closing my eyes, and dreaming of a more pleasant place, a place where the man I really loved was with me?
Mother died four days later in the middle of the night. It had begun to rain softly only a few hours before we were called, the drops resembling the tick, tick, tick of a watch as they tapped against my window pane. They streaked and zigzagged like tears. Occasionally, there was a burst of lightning in the distance.
I heard the phone ring and not more than five minutes or so afterward, I heard a gentle knock on my bedroom door. My heart was throbbing in my chest. I felt a hot flush through my body. It was one thing to expect the bad news, but another to have it actually happen. I rose slowly, slipping on my robe, and went to the door to find Daddy in his pajamas, barefoot, his hair disheveled. He was chalk white. Even his lips had no color.
"It was the hospital," he said. "Your mother's gone." He turned like some mindless messenger of death and went to Belinda's room to knock on her door. It took her longer to answer. I stood in my own doorway and listened to him make the same report. Then I heard Belinda's wails.
"I have to go over there," Daddy said turning back to me. "There are papers to sign."
"I'll go with you," I said.
"No, no, just stay with your sister," he replied and returned to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
For a few moments, I remained where I was just listening to Belinda's sobs and gasps. I had yet to shed a tear of my own. I went to her door and looked in on her. She was sitting on the floor beside her bed, her head on her arm against the bed, her body jerking in small spasms.
"Mommy," I heard her cry repeatedly. Finally, she caught her breath and turned to look up at me. "Olivia," she said, her mouth twisting, "what will we do?"
"Do? There's nothing we can do. I'll help Daddy with the funeral arrangements," I said. I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice. I felt as if I were speaking in a long, narrow tunnel, my words echoing in my ears and sounding mechanical, a recorded voice with little emotion, similar to the voices of trained telephone operators reading from prepared instructions.
"What should I do?"
"You must not do anything to cause him any more grief," I replied.
"What do I do? I don't cause him any grief!" she protested.
"I don't have the strength or the desire to go through the long list of troubling things you do, Belinda. Just don't do anything wrong for a few days, please," I concluded and returned to my own room.
I heard her crying again. Then I heard Daddy come out and start down the stairway. I went to my door to call to him.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come along, Daddy?"
"What? Oh, no, Olivia. I won't be that long. Get some rest. Tell Belinda to get some rest, too. Everyone, just get rest," he said and disappeared down the stairway, his footsteps falling away like the drumbeats of a passing funeral parade. I heard the front door open and close and then all was silent. Belinda's crying began again, only louder.
I went back to bed and stared into the darkness, thinking about my mother's last bright smile, a smile I would see no more. Less than ten minutes later, Belinda came to me. She stood there at the foot of my bed, her arms folded across her bosom, her shoulders rising and falling with her deep breaths.
"She died before I had a chance to talk to her again," Belinda said.
"What would you have said?" I asked.
She was silent. She looked away and took another deep breath.
"I don't know. There were things to say, weren't there?"
"From you? Just I'm sorry," I said, "and she didn't want to hear it."
"I would have said more than just I'm sorry, Olivia. I would have told her how much I loved her, you know." In the glow of the hall light, her eyes glistened with her tears while her face turned red with fury. "How can you just lay there and be mean to me at this moment?"
"I'm not being mean," I said calmly.
"Yes, you are. You've been meaner than ever to me just because . . ."
"Because of what?" I asked. My heart stopped and then started with a quickened beat. My ears were already ringing in anticipation.
"Because of what I did with Nelson Childs," she shot back at me. "I know you know."
"What? Why that's . ."
>
"Nelson told me," she said. I just stared at her. "That's the reason you've been meaner to me, and you know it," she said.
How could Belinda have such insight? She couldn't. She was just taking wild stabs at me because she was in so much pain.
"I disapproved for other reasons, Belinda, but I never told anyone."
"You told him. That was enough," she said. "You've got Samuel now. You shouldn't hate me."
"I don't hate you. Don't be ridiculous. I told you not to do anything to cause anybody any more grief at the moment, didn't I? So don't."
"I'm not jealous of you. I've never been jealous of you, Olivia."
"And I'm not jealous of you, so stop it. Stop it!" I shouted.
She was silent.
"Well, maybe I am jealous of you," she admitted.
"Oh, and why would that be, Belinda? What do I have or what have I done that you could possibly covet?" I asked, amused more than curious.
"You spoke to Mommy last," she said. "You have that."
She stared at me in the darkness a moment and then she turned and went back to her room. Through the walls, I heard her sob herself back to sleep. I lay there finding myself feeling more sorry for her than I was for myself. I wondered if I always would.
.
Mother had a very large funeral. There were so many people in attendance that a large number of them had to stand outside the church door. We kept the coffin closed and strewn with her favorite flowers: jonquils. The minister eulogized her as a faithful loving wife, a woman who truly personified the Christian spirit, full of love and forgiveness, someone who brought light and joy into her home. At one point Belinda cried so loudly, I had to gaze at her with hard, cold eyes to get her to smother her sobs. Daddy looked stunned and stared ahead, shaking hands and thanking people mechanically after the service.
It wasn't until we were at the cemetery and we stood before the open grave, waiting to swallow Mother into the earth, that I finally faced the fact she was gone. I surprised myself with the intensity of my own grief. I would miss her very much. Ironically, she turned out to be the most honest person in my life. I could never be like her, but I recognized that I had needed her, that I still needed her, that I had never been more alone.