family papers. He turned from the cabinet when I
> entered.
"Don't you think that was nervy, coming here
like that, Daddy? Surely, one of them . . ."
"Don't, Olivia," he said, holding up his hand.
"We've put it out of mind."
"I know, Daddy. I'm just . . . so angry at her for
what she's done," I said.
"Yes, I know, but you've got to look after her,
Olivia. We've learned that lesson."
Why Daddy tolerated weakness in Belinda and
no one else, including my mother, was a question that
stuck like a bone in my throat.
"I'm depending on you to watch over her," he
said. "She'll listen to you."
"She hasn't up until now, Daddy. That's been
proven in a terrible way."
"I know, but I believe she will change," he
insisted.
I stared at him a moment and he had to shift his
eyes from mine, something he rarely did. We had an
unspoken but realized connection, an understanding,
Daddy and I. We knew we couldn't lie to each other. He was lying to me right now and he knew I
knew it. He didn't really believe Belinda could
change.
Why was he lying?
My anger at Belinda expanded like a balloon
filling with hate because she was making Daddy lie. Someday, I vowed, she would understand and
appreciate what she has done and she will beg
forgiveness. In my heart, however, I believed it would