The nurse came out ten minutes later. From the expression she wore, I knew what she had come to say.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Logan," she said. She took my hand. Samuel rose and put his arm around me.
"Thank you," I said. "Did you call Doctor Covington?"
"Yes," she said. "Can I do anything for you?" "No, thank you."
"The doctor wanted me to plead with you to go home now," she added.
"You don't have to plead. I'm going," I said.
We started to leave. When we reached the elevator, I thought my legs had fallen away. I felt myself sinking. Samuel realized it and tightened his grip.
"We need a wheelchair here!" he cried and the nurse ran for one.
They took me to the car in the wheelchair and Samuel practically lifted me into the seat.
"Maybe we should stay here," he wondered aloud.
"No, let's just go home, Samuel. I'll be all right once I'm in bed."
"All right," he said and we started away. "How are you doing?" he asked after a moment.
"Better," I said.
"When you were in there before, did he ever regain consciousness? Were you able to speak to him?" he asked.
I thought a moment.
Daddy had set his eyes on me last. I was there for him, but who was in his thoughts at the end? Not me. It was Belinda. It was always Belinda.
"Olivia?"
"No," I said. "I never got to say good-bye."
15
Moving On
.
Belinda never returned the phone call Samuel
had made. He tried again as soon as we were home from the 'hospital and then came to my bedroom to tell me she was still not there. He left a message for her to call immediately, but she didn't call us until late the next morning, claiming she had gotten home too late. I didn't speak to her. Samuel told me she was on the phone, but I instructed him to tell her to just come home. There was nothing to say on the phone anyway.
I realized from the way Belinda reacted that day and the days that followed that for her Daddy had died a long time ago. She refused to remember him or think of him as anything but strong and vibrant. The man who had become a prisoner in his own body because of his stroke was not the same man she had known as her father. The stroke had turned him into a stranger and she couldn't mourn a stranger the way she would have mourned her father. Perhaps in her own way she mourned him after his stroke, I thought. That was the most generous I could be toward her.
Of course, she put on a good act for everyone, moaning and crying about not being there at Daddy's side and not speaking to him before he died. She had never called him on the phone because she couldn't stand his stuttering, so she had really not spoken with him since returning to Boston. She relied on me and Samuel to give her the details of his final days and hours.
Jacob was still too young to understand all that had happened to his grandfather. Thelma did a good job with him, explaining that Grandpa had been called to heaven where he would live with the angels and watch over him from above. I heard her tell him this and answer his questions in his room. Jacob was a very inquisitive child and never shy about asking questions. I decided not to bring him to the funeral.
Daddy's funeral was even bigger than Mother's because we had developed so many more business associations since Mother's death and practically everyone sent a representative. Someone told me the police declared it the biggest funeral procession in the North Cape.
Because of my condition, we decided not to have people over after the funeral. People offered their condolences at the church and at the cemetery and then left. Belinda, of course, returned to my house and I, under Doctor Covington's supervision, was sent directly to bed. After I rested and had some dinner, I told Samuel that he and I and Belinda had to have a family meeting immediately.
"Can't it wait until morning, Olivia? Everything is still so fresh," he complained.
"That's why it's best to do it now. Besides, time won't make any difference in regards to what has to be done, Samuel. It only keeps other people on pins and needles. Go get Belinda," I said and his face revealed the real reason he had wanted to postpone our family gathering.