Olivia (Logan 5)

"Samuel told me you two were the hit of the party," Belinda began. She didn't even ask about Mother.

"I'm hardly thinking about the party, Belinda. We just brought Mother here in an ambulance. Don't you ever think of anything but fluff?"

"I was just trying to say something nice," she wailed. "I'm scared, too."

She sat sulking between Samuel and Daddy. I paced by the window until Doctor Covington came out to see us. I could tell from the look in his face, despite his stoicism, that things were not good.

"She has indeed fallen into a coma. I'm afraid it might be for the best," he added. "Her cancer has spread."

"Can't you just have it cut out like the last time?" Belinda cried.

"I'm afraid not," he replied softly. "It's gone too far for any of that now."

Belinda began to sob. Samuel put his arm around her and she dropped her head to his shoulder and cried more freely.

"How long will this continue?" I asked the doctor. Daddy was just staring at him.

"Days, maybe a week. It's hard to say at this point, Olivia," he replied. "We'll do all we can to keep her from experiencing any pain," he promised. He turned to Daddy. "I'm sorry, Winston."

Daddy widened and brightened his eyes as if they were two small flashlights he had just turned on.

"Yes, thank you," he said and then looked to me.

"We'll look in on her and then go home," I decided. Daddy turned to Doctor Covington, his eyes questioning.

"Yes, that would be fine," the doctor said as if anything we did now had little consequence anyway.

Belinda couldn't stop crying so she remained in the lobby with Samuel. Daddy and I went into the room. The nurse stepped away from the bed as we approached. Her eyes were full of the prognosis; she had seen patients near death before, and there was no false hope in her face, only a slight smile of sympathy.

"I'll be right outside," she whispered and left us.

Daddy folded his hands into fists as we both looked at Mother. His body stiffened, the anger overtaking the sorrow in him for a few moments.

"She doesn't look like she's suffering, Daddy," I said. He nodded.

"No, she doesn't," he said relaxing. "In fact, she looks younger."

"If I know her, she's already dreaming of being someplace more pleasant," I said.

Daddy smiled through his teary eyes. He took Mother's hand in his and stood there, and for the first time in all my life, I realized that despite how I thought he viewed her all these years, despite what value I had imagined he had placed on her as a wife, he really loved her as much as a man could love a woman. Mother was right about that.

I wondered.

Would a man ever love me that much? Was Samuel capable of it?

More important, did I really want his love to be that strong?

Or was I like Mother, closing my eyes, and dreaming of a more pleasant place, a place where the man I really loved was with me?

Mother died four days later in the middle of the night. It had begun to rain softly only a few hours before we were called, the drops resembling the tick, tick, tick of a watch as they tapped against my window pane. They streaked and zigzagged like tears. Occasionally, there was a burst of lightning in the distance.

I heard the phone ring and not more than five minutes or so afterward, I heard a gentle knock on my bedroom door. My heart was throbbing in my chest. I felt a hot flush through my body. It was one thing to expect the bad news, but another to have it actually happen. I rose slowly, slipping on my robe, and went to the door to find Daddy in his pajamas, barefoot, his hair disheveled. He was chalk white. Even his lips had no color.

"It was the hospital," he said. "Your mother's gone." He turned like some mindless messenger of death and went to Belinda's room to knock on her door. It took her longer to answer. I stood in my own doorway and listened to him make the same report. Then I heard Belinda's wails.

"I have to go over there," Daddy said turning back to me. "There are papers to sign."

"I'll go with you," I said.