Olivia (Logan 5)

"She'll be all right. I got her cleaned up and back to bed."

"And . ."

"Daddy's taken care of all the rest."

"Taken care?"

"The baby died right away, Mother," I said. "It was premature. Daddy took the baby and buried it someplace. He said he doesn't want anyone to know."

"Buried?" she gasped and shook her head. "God forgive us," she whispered.

I thought she would fall forward to the floor, so I seized her by the elbow and tried to get her to lie back, but she shook her head.

"I have to look in on her, Olivia."

She wobbled when she stood. I put my arm around her waist and helped her to the door. She grew stronger as she walked and returned to Belinda's bedroom. Belinda started to sob as Mother

approached her. "I'm sorry, Mommy," she whimpered. "I'm sorry." Mother sat on the bed and held her in her arms, and as Belinda cried, Mother rocked her.

"Poor child," she said.

"Poor child? She oughta be whipped," I muttered, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, too, even though I didn't want to give her an iota of sympathy.

"There, there, dear. It's all right. It will be all right," Mother chanted.

Finally, Belinda sucked back her sniffles and wiped her cheeks.

"I know I should have told you, Mommy, but I just couldn't. I was too ashamed and afraid," she explained.

"That made a bad thing worse, Belinda. You can't keep such a secret from your parents, or your sister," she said, gazing at me. Belinda looked at me, too. "We all love you and would want to help you."

"I know, Mommy. I'm sorry," she said.

"How did such a thing happen?" Mother asked in a hoarse whisper, looking more at me than at Belinda now.

For as long as I could remember, Mother turned to me to learn things about Belinda. She always expected I was in charge of my younger sister, but I had been away at finishing school most of this year, and knew about Belinda's exploits only through gossip and the little I observed on holidays. This was Belinda's senior year, and I thought she had been given too much freedom, much more than I had been given. Without me at home, Mother didn't keep a good account of Belinda's whereabouts and activities. She was permitted to sleep at her friends' homes and stay out way past midnight. Daddy was always too busy to notice, I thought, and now look at what had resulted.

"She says she doesn't know who the father is," I declared. "Apparently, there are too many

candidates."

"What?" Mother asked, her face twisted in disbelief. Did she think Belinda was some sort of angel just because Daddy always treated her like his little cherub? "Too many? How can there have been too many, Belinda?"

"I don't know, Mommy. Please, I don't want to think about it. Please," she begged and started to sob again.

"We should know," I insisted. "Daddy should know and go see them."

"Maybe it's better we don't," Mother concluded, succumbing to Belinda's teary grimaces and wails. "What good is it going to do anyone now?"

"People should be responsible for their actions, Mother. Daddy's going to want to know," I added firmly. "I'm thirsty," Belinda moaned.

"All right, honey. All right. Olivia will get you some water."

"I need something colder, something with ice," she demanded.

"So go get it," I snapped.

"Olivia, please," Mother said, turning her soft eyes to me.