Olivia

  He smiled.

  "How do you want me to show my gratitude, Olivia?" "You found it so easy to show Belinda how grateful you could be," I said. His smile faded.

  "You really don't want me to . . . want us to . ." The rain that tapped on the roof of the yacht seemed to tap on my very soul as well.

  "Am I so distasteful to you?"

  "Of course not, but this is different. It's . . ."

  "What?"

  "Samuel is a good friend of mine and . . ."

  "Oh please," I said. "Don't start quoting that fiction about males who've bonded and don't betray each other. You're all cut from the same cloth when it comes to this."

  He shook his head.

  "I'm sorry you're so bitter."

  "Are you?" Tears came to my eyes. "What do you know about being bitter? You've always gotten what you wanted, haven't you? You don't know what frustration is, what longing can be, how lonely it's possible to be."

  He fixed his gaze on me as if he were looking at me for the first time. I had to turn away and while I did, he drew closer. I felt his hand on my hair and then on my shoulder, but I didn't turn to him. He sat beside me and then I felt his lips on my neck. I closed my eyes. How I had dreamed of this, I thought. His lips moved to my cheek and his hand turned my face to him so he could kiss my lips. Then he brought his hand to my breast and he pressed his lips harder against mine.

  The scent of his damp hair, the taste of his mouth on mine, the feel of his hand on my waist, moving under my jacket and my blouse to find my breast all drummed a rhythm through me that turned the heat up in my body and made my breath hot. I moaned and moved so he could lift my legs and run his other hand under my skirt. When he touched me, my breath caught and for a moment, I thought I might faint with excitement.

  "Is this really what you want, Olivia?" he whispered.

  "Yes," I said, my eyes full of determination. "Yes. It's what should have been."

  He said nothing. Instead, he began to undress me and then to undress himself. Above and around us, the storm ensued, the sheets of rain now slapping against the yacht, the ocean rising and falling to create a frenzied rhythm that I wanted to capture and hold between Nelson and myself.

  He made love to me with his eyes closed. Despite the fact that he was really there, really holding me and making me part of him in the most intimate way a man and a woman could become one, I didn't feel as satisfied as I had anticipated. Wild, refusing to be disappointed, I rushed into an orgasm and felt him shudder inside me, both of us gasping like two sprinters on the beach who had fallen into each other's arms.

  The rain continued to fall. Neither of us spoke.

  "You hated every minute of that, didn't you?" I accused.

  "I didn't hate it, Olivia, but what you expect is not something you can command to happen. You're so used to giving orders and having your way, you think you can just apply the same techniques to everything. You can't."

  I turned away from him.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "These circumstances . . it's just not conducive to . . . it's just not . . ." "Romantic?"

  "No, it isn't," he said.

  "And meeting Belinda at some hotel is?" I asked with a sharp, cold laugh.

  "It was a fling, something to distract me, just as I told you," he said. "I'm not in love with Belinda. I'm in love with my wife," he concluded. It put a lump of lead into my throat.

  I sat up and began to dress and so did he. Suddenly, I was feeling very cheap and foolish. I hated it more than I hated not having him love me the way I had dreamed he would. It was better to live in my fantasy than to have this as reality, I thought.

  The rain hadn't let up.

  "We'll have to run for it," he said contemplating leaving the yacht. I found an umbrella and handed it to him. "What about you?"

  "I don't have as far to go," I said.

  "Olivia . . . this is . . ."

  "I don't want to discuss it any more tonight," I said. "I'll keep you informed and you'll do what you have to do when that time comes."

  He stared at me, not with anger, but with genuine curiosity as if I were some sort of alien creature.

  "Very well. If this is what you really want," he finally said. "I'm sorry."

  "Those two words ought to be eliminated from our language. They are sorely abused," I remarked. He nearly smiled, nodded, opened the door and the umbrella, and then, with one look back, charged into the night and the rain. I watched him disappear into the darkness like some apparition, a ghost I had conceived out of my illusions and dreams.

  For a few moments I stood there crying. I couldn't remember when in my life I had cried like this before. I hadn't even cried as much or as hard when Mother died. The tears felt like drops of steam on my cheeks. I finally caught my breath, wiped them away, sucked back my final sobs, buried my self-pity forever, and walked out into the cold rain, not feeling any of it and not even knowing I was soaked to the skin until I had opened the door to Belinda's room and she gasped when she set eyes on me.

  "Where have you been? What happened to you?" she asked. "You're drenched."

  "It's all over," I said in a voice resembling the voice of someone who was devoid of all feeling. "He knows what's happened and he knows what we're going to do. He also realizes his obligations after you give birth."

  "You mean he didn't try to get us to . . . not have the baby?"

  "It's not for him to decide, to even suggest," I said.

  "He has no rights except the right to be guilty."

  "But Olivia . . I'm really frightened," she moaned.

  "That's nonsense. I won't permit it," I told her.

  "I can't help it!" she cried, grimacing.

  I walked into the room and seized her by the shoulders.

  "You will help it. You will do exactly what I want you to do. For once, you will bear some responsibility for your actions, Belinda. Do you hear me?" I shook her hard and she just started to cry. "Do you!"

  "Yes," she said, nodding.

  "Good," I muttered. I released her. "Good. Get some sleep. You're going to live an exemplary life for the next few months and you're going to give birth to a healthy child."

  I paused in the doorway. She looked at me with terror in her eyes.

  "This you will do," I said slowly. "This you will definitely do."

  Early one evening three weeks later, the doorbell rang.

  We had just finished dinner. Belinda was upstairs and Samuel was down at the dock working on the yacht. I had gone to the den and had begun to look at some papers I had brought home when Effie came to my door. "There's someone here to see you, Mrs. Logan."

  "Who?"

  "Mrs. Childs," she said.

  It was as if my heart fell to my stomach. I hadn't seen Louise for some time and we had never really been close. She had certainly never visited me by herself.

  Louise Childs was one of those women who just seem to grow more beautiful, more elegant and statuesque with time. Having children hadn't taken away from her svelte figure. She still looked like she had just come to life off a magazine cover.

  "Hello, Olivia," she said. "I hope I'm not intruding by making this unannounced visit."

  "No, not at all," I said. "Please come in, Louise."

  She entered the den, gazed around and then sat on the leather settee. I had taken many of Daddy's things from his den right after the house sale and moved them into my own home office.

  "Is Samuel fond of guns?" she asked looking at the collection displayed in the case.

  "No, those were my father's antiques," I said.

  "Oh."

  I sat in the leather chair across from her.

  "Can I get you something to drink, Louise?"

  "No, I'm fine," she said. She fumbled with the snap on her purse for a few moments. "I suppose you know why I've come to see' you, Olivia."

  "No," I said. "I'm afraid this is a total surprise."

  "It's about . . . Nelson and what he has done," she said, holding her gaze on me. I st
ared at her without changing expression. "He told me

  everything," she continued.

  "I see," I said, feeling as if my body had deflated like a balloon and no longer had enough air in my lungs to utter any sound, much less sentences. I seized control of myself as quickly as I could and sat with my back steel firm. "What exactly did he tell you?"

  Surely, he hadn't confessed to our sexual episode on the yacht as well, I thought.

  "He told me about . . . the baby," she said, "and about Belinda and what you want to do about it," she replied, her eyes steady, her voice strong. I waited. That was apparently all he had confessed. Even so, I was amazed she had come. I had certainly

  underestimated her backbone, I thought.

  "He did, did he?"

  "Yes. I'm not here to make any excuses for him," she added quickly.

  "Then why are you here, Louise?" I demanded. I couldn't help feeling another sort of betrayal. It had never occurred to me that Nelson would be so close to Louise that he would share even his sins, and it certainly never occurred to me that if he had, she would tolerate or forgive him.

  "I'm here because I think you're making a mistake. I think you should consider finding another home for the child. Nelson and I have discussed it and we are willing to bear all the costs. There are many couples who would love . ."

  "You discussed it? You? It's my sister he has impregnated, Louise."

  "I realize that," she said quickly. "I don't come here to assign any blame on anyone, especially Belinda.

  I laughed.

  "It might interest you to know that I don't excuse her. She's certainly at fault, too, but as far as giving the child away, pretending it never happened, burying the facts . . . no," I said shaking my head. "I won't let that happen."

  "But Belinda's future . . ."

  "Is my worry, not yours," I said. I sat back, pressing my fingers together and smiling as a realization gave birth in my mind. "I understand now. You're worried that it will come out someday and you will be devastatingly embarrassed."

  "No, not at all. It's . . ."

  "Please," I said holding up my hand. "Let's not add deceit upon deceit. I have assured Nelson that his fatherhood or should I say sirehood, will not be revealed. You can rest as easy, as easily as you are able to rest knowing what you do know," I said pointedly.

  "Well, have you really thought this out, Olivia? Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asked.

  "Yes, Louise, it is."

  She saw my determination and she sat back, her lips trembling.

  "It took every bit of strength I could muster to come over to speak with you, Olivia. Nelson told me your mind was made up, but I think he believed I might be able to change it, that once you knew he had confessed all to me, you might reconsider."

  "Why should he think that?"

  "I don't know," she said.

  "Then perhaps you don't know everything, Louise." She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Then she sucked in her breath and stood.

  "This is such bad business, such a terrible turn of events," she complained. "Our lives were so perfect up until now."

  "Life isn't meant to be perfect," I said. "That's an illusion and if you let yourself think it is, you only suffer when disappointments come."

  She looked at me with admiration and shook her head.

  "How I envy you for your strength. You've always been so powerful." She smiled. "Somehow I think you'll work all this out," she concluded. "And you'll all be safe," I said.

  She bit her lower lip, glanced at me and then turned to go.

  "Louise," I said when she reached the doorway. She paused, turning.

  "Yes?"

  "If you want to be stronger, never let your husband get you to do his dirty work again."

  "I didn't come here for him. You were right, Olivia. I came here for myself. Or maybe for my children, too," she added. "You once said something I never forgot."

  "What was that?"

  "Family, family should be the most important thing of all," she replied. "If there is every anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask me."

  I watched her leave, hating her for being strong enough to come.

  17

  Penance

  .

  I didn't believe Samuel was capable of the rage

  he demonstrated in front of me the following afternoon. His eyes were so filled with it that they looked bloodshot. His normally tan cheeks had eggshell white spots and the skin on his temple was so taut, it could have been used over a drum. He nearly took my office door off its hinges when he entered and he slammed it so hard, the walls shook. I was about to protest when he extended his arm, his long right forefinger jabbed at my surprised face.

  "Don't," he commanded. "Don't say a word until I'm finished speaking."

  After saying that, he fumed a few more moments, pacing in front of me. Then he paused, took a deep breath and put his hands palms down on my desk as he leaned toward me. I could feel the heat radiating from his eyes of fire. I half-expected he would burn his palm prints into the wood.

  "Your sister came to you and told you she was pregnant with Nelson Childs' baby and you met with Nelson and told him you and I were going to keep the child as our own? Does that sum it all up in a nutshell?"

  "Hardly," I said, "but for now, yes."

  "But for now yes? When exactly were you going to tell me any of this? When exactly was I going to learn what would happen in my own home? When . . ."

  "Please, Samuel. Stop it!" I cried.

  He glared. His lips firm. He was shooting so many daggers across the desk at me that I had trouble looking at him.

  "Stop it? Stop it, you say? I know I'm not the businessman your father was. I know you do a great many things better than I do here, but I know I'm still your husband, the father of your children. All I ask, Olivia, is you treat me with this much respect," he said holding up his forefinger and thumb as if he were showing a pinch of salt.

  He paused, waiting for my response.

  "You're right," I said after a moment. "You're absolutely right." His eyes widened with surprise. He had been expecting my characteristic fortitude. "I should have involved you sooner in all this. I was wrong, but I was just so upset over Belinda and what had happened, I saw red and took matters into my own hands."

  "Which is what you always do," he said nodding.

  "I am who I am. I'm not perfect, Samuel."

  "Well." He stepped back. "I must say it's a novelty to hear you say that, Olivia." He gazed at me a moment and then sat in front of the desk, sinking into the seat. "What do you expect to accomplish here? Why are you permitting Belinda to have the baby and keep the baby at our home?"

  "It's her child, our niece or nephew, isn't it? We don't give away children like so much extra fish," I said. "But for an unmarried woman to have a child fathered by a married man and for us to keep the child, bring him or her up alongside Jacob and Chester . . . it will simply complicate matters so much more, Olivia. You haven't thought this through and considered all the aspects," he concluded, shaking his head.

  "Did he send you here to tell me all this, to plead with me, to have me give the child to some agency so that his conscience is clear and he has no worries? Well? Did he?"

  "He asked me to reason with you, yes," Samuel admitted.

  "I thought so."

  "He's quite distraught about it."

  "Oh please," I said turning my chair. "He's quite distraught. Why is it men can only see the suffering they endure?" I thought a moment and then looked at Samuel again. "Is this what you would do, Samuel, if it were all reversed? Would you have gone to him and asked him to go to his wife and plead your case, asking for the same things?"

  "That's a ridiculous question. I don't have affairs."

  "Of course you don't. You're better than that, Samuel. I realize that. Haven't you told me time after time that you believe in family, as I do? Didn't you tell me my father was right in building that belief in us all?"
>
  "Yes, but . . . well, what does Belinda want?"

  "Belinda?" I laughed. "She wants everything unpleasant to disappear. She always has. She's a lot like my mother in that way, but this time it won't work."

  "You mean you won't let it."

  "I mean we'll bear the burden of our

  responsibilities. What she has done affects us. Surely, you won't want me to turn the child out of our home, Samuel. You're not that sort of a man and that's why I wanted to marry you in the first place," I said. "You credit me with intelligence; credit me with the perception to see your good qualities, too, Samuel."

  He gazed at me and I kept my eyes so fixed on him and so full of sincerity, he swallowed down my words and felt good about it. I could see his ego inflate like a life raft.

  "Well, if you put it that way, I suppose we could manage it fine. It's not a question of money or anything and as you say, the child carries your family blood. Is it what you really think we should do, Olivia?"

  "I wouldn't do it otherwise, Samuel. I'm sorry I didn't come right to you with the problem, but I was sorting it out in my own mind first. I was going to tell you everything today."

  He nodded.

  "All right then," he said. "I do feel sorry for Belinda though," he said in a wistful tone. "She's made some mess for herself."

  "With someone else's help," I reminded him. He raised his eyebrows.

  "Yes. Well," he said slapping the arms of the chair as he stood, "every family has its skeletons in closets, Ours won't be the first, huh?"

  "Hardly," I said.

  "Is there anything I should do?" he asked.

  "Tell Nelson Childs to stop sending emissaries and accept his responsibility. Tell him to be half the man you are, Samuel," I said.

  He smiled.

  "I don't think he'd like to hear that, Olivia." He started for the door and stopped. "How are we going to handle Belinda? I mean . . ."

  "Leave it all to me, Samuel. It's mostly all female problems anyway from here on until she gives birth," I said.

  "Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right." He thought a moment. "Sorry I came bursting in on you like that."

  "It's all right, Samuel. I understand and once again, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner."