Olivia (Logan 5)

"No, no, just stay with your sister," he replied and returned to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

For a few moments, I remained where I was just listening to Belinda's sobs and gasps. I had yet to shed a tear of my own. I went to her door and looked in on her. She was sitting on the floor beside her bed, her head on her arm against the bed, her body jerking in small spasms.

"Mommy," I heard her cry repeatedly. Finally, she caught her breath and turned to look up at me. "Olivia," she said, her mouth twisting, "what will we do?"

"Do? There's nothing we can do. I'll help Daddy with the funeral arrangements," I said. I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice. I felt as if I were speaking in a long, narrow tunnel, my words echoing in my ears and sounding mechanical, a recorded voice with little emotion, similar to the voices of trained telephone operators reading from prepared instructions.

"What should I do?"

"You must not do anything to cause him any more grief," I replied.

"What do I do? I don't cause him any grief!" she protested.

"I don't have the strength or the desire to go through the long list of troubling things you do, Belinda. Just don't do anything wrong for a few days, please," I concluded and returned to my own room.

I heard her crying again. Then I heard Daddy come out and start down the stairway. I went to my door to call to him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come along, Daddy?"

"What? Oh, no, Olivia. I won't be that long. Get some rest. Tell Belinda to get some rest, too. Everyone, just get rest," he said and disappeared down the stairway, his footsteps falling away like the drumbeats of a passing funeral parade. I heard the front door open and close and then all was silent. Belinda's crying began again, only louder.

I went back to bed and stared into the darkness, thinking about my mother's last bright smile, a smile I would see no more. Less than ten minutes later, Belinda came to me. She stood there at the foot of my bed, her arms folded across her bosom, her shoulders rising and falling with her deep breaths.

"She died before I had a chance to talk to her again," Belinda said.

"What would you have said?" I asked.

She was silent. She looked away and took another deep breath.

"I don't know. There were things to say, weren't there?"

"From you? Just I'm sorry," I said, "and she didn't want to hear it."

"I would have said more than just I'm sorry, Olivia. I would have told her how much I loved her, you know." In the glow of the hall light, her eyes glistened with her tears while her face turned red with fury. "How can you just lay there and be mean to me at this moment?"

"I'm not being mean," I said calmly.

"Yes, you are. You've been meaner than ever to me just because . . ."

"Because of what?" I asked. My heart stopped and then started with a quickened beat. My ears were already ringing in anticipation.

"Because of what I did with Nelson Childs," she shot back at me. "I know you know."

"What? Why that's . ."

>

"Nelson told me," she said. I just stared at her. "That's the reason you've been meaner to me, and you know it," she said.

How could Belinda have such insight? She couldn't. She was just taking wild stabs at me because she was in so much pain.

"I disapproved for other reasons, Belinda, but I never told anyone."

"You told him. That was enough," she said. "You've got Samuel now. You shouldn't hate me."

"I don't hate you. Don't be ridiculous. I told you not to do anything to cause anybody any more grief at the moment, didn't I? So don't."

"I'm not jealous of you. I've never been jealous of you, Olivia."