I think Samuel believed that another child would cause me to lessen my work responsibilities and give him the opportunity to become more important at our company. He expected that I would eventually relegate myself to running our home and rearing our children, much the way Louise Childs did. I knew that despite the facade he put on, it bothered him that I was doing so much more than he was. His friends, perhaps Nelson most of all, kidded him about being Mr. Gordon rather than me being Mrs. Logan, but I wasn't about to put any of our business interests in jeopardy just to satisfy the needs of Samuel's male ego.
After my third month, I suffered severe back pains and had more trouble with my digestion. I didn't gain weight so much as I became bloated and retained water. It got so I had to leave work earlier than I wanted day after day to go home and rest, and then in my sixth month, I had terrific abdominal pain and began to bleed so profusely, the inside of my shoes got soaked. I had pains that resembled contractions. It was even hard for me to breathe.
Samuel, who was at a luncheon with some clients, was called back to the office and then helped rush me to the hospital. I did not, as I suspected I would, abort. However, Doctor Covington put me on a very restrictive regimen.
"If you want this child, Olivia," he warned, his face as austere as a hell and damnation preacher's, "you'll have to spend more time on your back. Sitting for hours and hours behind a desk and traveling about is just out of the question at this point. Your pregnancy is in great jeopardy."
I found myself being treated like an invalid, rolled out in a wheelchair and helped along like someone who couldn't stand on her own two feet. Going up and down the stairs in the house was strictly forbidden. For the remaining term of my pregnancy, I was confined to my bedroom. That would be my little world.
Samuel seemed to enjoy my new-found helplessness. Now, instead of my going to the office every morning, he went and he took my calls and met with our clients. A number of times, I had to change or amend things he had done on his own. He wasn't happy about this and complained.
"No one treats me with respect, Olivia. They think everything I do, you'll change," he whined.
"I have to change what has to be changed, Samuel," I said firmly.
"Well, it makes everything so difficult. They don't know who's in charge," he conti
nued.
"As long as I'm able to think, I'm in charge of what my father and I have created, Samuel," I said. "I didn't do so badly up until now, did I?"
He reluctantly admitted I was right, but I saw how unhappy it made him that even though I was on my back, I could still have a heavy hand in everything that we did and had to do. I never relinquished the need for my signature, for one thing, which meant nothing was official without it.
I regretted not being able to visit with Daddy as often as I wanted. Samuel actually brought him over once, but I had the feeling the two of them were in a conspiracy, hoping to force me to release my iron grip on our business affairs. When Daddy started to take Samuel's side, I threatened to get up and go to the office if either of them ever brought up the matter again.
"In fact," I said throwing my legs over the side of the bed and finding my slippers, "I think I'll just take a ride over there right now and see what else has to be done."
"No, you don't, Olivia," Daddy said. "You don't endanger my new grandchild. I'm hoping it will be a girl," he said. "I understand you and Samuel have already decided to name her after your mother."
When Daddy put it like that, I couldn't force the issue. I lay back, but I felt as though there were invisible chains around my ankles and neck. Doctor Covington came to examine me once a week, and even though I told him I was feeling a lot better, he still insisted I remain as inactive as possible.
"You're only feeling this way because you listened to me, Olivia," he said. "You don't have that much longer to go before you give birth. Don't make trouble for yourself and your baby at this late date," he admonished. Samuel stood behind him, gloating. I never realized just how much he resented my being stronger than he was.
When Belinda heard what was happening, she called to express her sisterly concern. Her voice dripped with syrupy false love.
"I should come home and help you," she declared. "I feel sorry for you."
"There's nothing you can do here except spend time with Daddy," I said. "Loretta takes care of all my needs. Thelma is looking after Jacob quite well. It's just Daddy who needs more tender loving care."
"Oh. Well, maybe I shouldn't just walk out on my schooling. I'm almost finished, but if you need me . . ."
"Don't worry. I'll call you," I said. "Is everything all right? There are no surprises waiting for Daddy and me, are there, Belinda?"
"Whatever do you mean, Olivia? You've seen my school reports and you've called Cousin Paula every week since I left, haven't you? Don't deny it," she added before I could respond. "I know you've been spying on me. For all I know, you've hired a private detective to keep an eye on me."
"That's not true, Belinda."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," she said with a little giggle. There was definitely something in her voice that suggested she had done something of which she knew I would never approve. I regretted not doing what she had suspected: hiring a detective to watch over her. Now that she had mentioned it, it would have been a good idea.
However, I thought, in my condition and present state of mind, it was no good for me to spend any time worrying about her. Whatever she's done, she's done, I thought, and let that be the end of it. Maybe she's run off and married someone. Wouldn't Daddy and I be fortunate.
On Tuesday of the second week of my eighth month, Loretta came upstairs to tell me I had a visitor. It was a little after eleven in the morning and I had just gotten off the phone with Samuel, reviewing some of the problems he had to deal with during the day. He hated my calls. I could easily envision him sitting there with a sharp grimace cut into his face, his forehead resting on his hand as if he had the world's worst migraine.
"I have a visitor?" I asked. I had no idea who it could be. Salesmen and the like were never permitted to come to the house. "Who?"
"Mr. Childs," she said. "I told him I would see if you could entertain anyone this morning. He's waiting downstairs," she added.
"Nelson?"