Olivia (Logan 5)

"I know," he said. "I know." His voice was full of resignation. "All right, I'll go along with you. Should we take Jacob along?"

"No, he'll only wonder where my father is and I don't have time for that," I said. What I really meant was it would be too emotionally difficult for me, even with Thelma's assistance.

In fact, the entire visit was emotionally draining. The house had become dark and foreboding to me ever since Mother's death and then Daddy's stroke. It was a shell of what it had been. It was hard to enter it now and envision the grand dinner parties, the laughter and music, even Belinda's music. Not that it wasn't clean and neat. Effie had done a great job of that, and that was why I wanted to meet with her as soon as possible to explain what I wanted her to do.

"I'd like you to remain awhile and keep the house up so it shows well when the real estate agents bring prospective buyers around, Effie. I will give you six months salary when you are terminated here, and of course, I'll do my best to find you another position in the area, if you like. I've always been quite pleased with your work."

"Thank you, Mrs. Logan. That will be fine," she said. I made the same arrangements with the groundskeeper.

I wasn't physically able to go through the whole house and look at everything, planning on what I wanted to bring back to our home and what I wanted to donate or sell, but I did wander through the first floor and spent some time in Daddy's den while Samuel checked on the upstairs and the boathouse. Sitting there, I couldn't help but recall my many private talks with Daddy. He always treated me like an adult and I know he had a high regard for my abilities. I wondered how often he had looked at me and wished I really was his daughter, born of his blood. How important family meant to him, so important that he would swallow what would have certainly choked most men.

There was something so masculine about Daddy's den, from its dark woods, to his cigar humidor and his pictures of seafaring men battling the elements. He had his old guns in their glass cases and his prize knives alongside them. There was a leather chess board with medieval figures on the corner table. He was proud of his room, proud of his home and proud of what he had accomplished. I would miss him, I thought.

I rose and walked to the rear of the house. Samuel was standing on the dock looking at the sea. Off to the right by the trees was the unmarked grave. No one but me knew what was buried there. It put a chill in me for a moment when I recalled Daddy's look of terror as he placed the wrapped fetus and afterbirth in that box and then disappeared into the night to bury Belinda's sins, which were sins visited on all our heads.

"Samuel!" I cried. He turned. "Take me home. I'm feeling faint," I said.

He hurried back. I paused to gaze once more at the dark place under the tree and thought, soon, soon I'll sell all this and never return.

Less than a week later, I went into terrible contractions and was rushed to the hospital where I gave birth to our second child, a boy whom we named Chester for

Samuel's grandfather. I knew he was disappointed. He had wanted a girl and so had Daddy.

I remained in the hospital for three days after Chester's birth. Belinda came the second day to see the baby and visit me. She wore a very bright autumn gold blouse and a dark blue skirt. With her hair tied back neatly, Belinda looked young and vibrant. Lying in the hospital bed after just having given birth, I didn't feel very pretty. Never did the contrast between us seem more vivid.

"Don't worry about Samuel," she told me, "I'm looking after him. Jacob's very excited about his new brother, too. I took him for a walk yesterday," she said.

"You mean you're acting like an aunt?"

"Yes," she said laughing, "but a young aunt. He's so curious about everything and so serious. I'm afraid he takes after you, Olivia. Whenever he laughs, he looks guilty immediately afterward."

"That's ridiculous," I said, but I knew she wasn't wrong about Jacob. He was a thoughtful, pensive little boy and very bright, too.

"Nelson Childs told me you asked him for a job," I said suddenly, locking my gaze on her. Her eyebrows rose.

"He said I asked him?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's the other way around, Olivia. When he heard I was in business school, he asked me and I told him I wasn't going to work for anyone but my father," she claimed.

"Where did you see him, Belinda?" I

questioned skeptically.

"In Boston. He stopped by to see me when he returned from the Bahamas," she replied so matter-offactly, I couldn't doubt her.

"Why did he do that?"

"You'll have to ask hint," she said. "I was just as surprised as you are." She opened her purse and plucked out her makeup mirror to check her face and then looked at me. "I'm telling you the truth, Olivia. Stop looking at me as if I am making up some lies."

"Fine," I said. Inside my stomach, hot coals turned. Was she telling the truth and Nelson lying? Was he just covering for himself in case she had told me? Was there any man I could trust? I wondered.

"You look so deep in thought," Belinda said.

"I think, Belinda. There's no shame in thinking. There's shame in not thinking."

"Chester is a very sweet looking baby," she went on, skipping from topic to topic like she was in a hopscotch game. "I think he's going to look more like Samuel. Samuel thinks so, too," she said, adding that because she thought it would bother me.