breathed deeply.
"Don't hate me. Don't hate anyone," Mother
said, almost in a whisper now. She was getting very
tired.
"I don't understand what you're saying,
Mother."
"You don't want to understand, Olivia. You're
acting like me again. While I was engaged to your
father, I still saw this young man. We were intimate
and I became pregnant right before my wedding. Your
father knew. My fisherman left and Winston and I
were married. My fisherman wasn't the sort who stood
by his actions anyway. He was a drifter, a free soul,
handsome and as harmonious as a songbird. His laugh
was like a melody to me. Sometimes now, I think he
wasn't real. I think maybe I did imagine him. Maybe it
was all a fantasy. That's how you know me best,
pretending," she said. "Well that was the old me; the
new me must strip away the lies and stand naked with
the truth.
"I thought about dying without telling you. I
asked myself what good will it do? You might have a
terrible reaction, hate me, love your father less, hate
your sister, but then I kept returning to the realization that I was going to stand before the great Judge and without a clear conscience, without relieving myself of the guilt, I would not be able to raise my eyes and look into His. So, maybe I'm doing this for selfish reasons, Olivia. Forgive me and please, please don't hate me. I'm a frightened woman who is trying to get
strong enough for what is to come."
I simply stared at her. So this was why my
father forgave my sister so easily, why he cared more
about her future than he did about mine, why he had
tried to get her married and secure first. This
explained the aloofness, the gap, the slight formality I