long, I thought once more that she had passed on.
Finally, she reached out for my hand and gazed at me. "I want you to understand and believe that your
father and I have grown to love each other as much as
any two married people can and do. He blusters about,
complains about my spending, or the way I handle the
servants, you and Belinda, whatever, but after he's
made his speeches and swung his arms about like a
human windmill, he collapses in my arms in this bed
and we hold each other before we sleep and we
comfort each other and we do what we must to
strengthen ourselves for the days to come. You and Belinda have never seen that part of him, but it's there. Believe me, Olivia, it's there and it's important. I do
love him very much."
"I know that, Mother."
"Do you?" She smiled. "You always believed
your father had his hands full with me, didn't you?
You always believed he fumed and raged about this
house like a man trapped. Be honest with me, Olivia.
Don't pity me today because of what's coming
tomorrow."
"Yes," I admitted. "There were many times I
felt that, but he always seemed to deal with his
dissatisfaction and go on."
She nodded, smiling.
"That's the strength that comes from our love,
Olivia. I hope you will have it with Samuel. Of
course, you won't have it immediately. It comes with
time, with respect, with the realization that together
you are one in the end."
"I know, Mother. I don't expect more," I said
lowering my head.