Olivia (Logan 5)

"It doesn't matter where. I don't want you there," I said.

"How are you . . . I mean, what will you say?"

"I'll come to see you before you go to sleep," I promised, "and tell you everything."

She nodded, looking more grateful than defiant now. I knew what she was about to say.

"Don't say it, Belinda. I'm tired of hearing how sorry you are. Please, just . . . go to your room, watch television, talk to your empty-headed friends, fix your hair, be yourself and wait for my instructions."

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. Even she knew now that in the end, excuses were like the fabled straws everyone tried to grasp to keep from falling. The only thing that could keep her from sinking any farther in this life was the

actions I would take on her behalf. That realization was written in her eyes.

She rose and left the dining room with her head lowered like a flag of defeat, but I harbored no pity for her. She was the one who was carrying Nelson Childs' baby, not I.

I spent some time with the boys before I left the house. Thelma had done wonders with Jacob, actually teaching him how to read a little and teaching him his additions and subtractions. He loved to show off for me. Chester was a far more physical child, walking months before Jacob had and thus becoming a constant problem because he could reach for things and had interest in touching everything in sight. Twice already, he had gotten into Samuel's fishing tackle and tangled himself up so badly that he had to wail for help. Samuel thought it was amusing, but I warned him if he left his gear out again, I would dump it all in the garbage.

"Jacob has more sense than you," I told him. Jacob was so much more serious when it came to watching his younger brother and keeping him from doing mischief. I began to wonder how two boys from the same parents could be so different in nature.

Our yacht was moored at the dock behind the house. It was a 62-foot sailing cruiser, driven solely by sails and included living facilities. Normally all the deck chairs were put away, but Samuel had used the yacht just the day before to take some prospective clients out to enjoy a half day's sail. This particular evening was murky with fog. I could barely see twenty yards or so out to sea, but I could hear a foghorn off in the distance and occasionally caught the blink of a light through the steamy air. It was humid however, the air heavy enough that I thought it might rain. I boarded the yacht a little before eight and waited, listening and watching the grounds. Just a minute or so after eight, I saw Nelson emerge from out of the swirling mist, looking like a figure rising from the darkest underworld. He strode along firmly, his posture revealing his anger and annoyance as he swung his arms and approached.

"Well," he said boarding the yacht and standing in front of me, his hands on his hips, "I'm here as you commanded." He wore a light jacket and a pair of dungarees. I stared at him a moment and then looked at the fog.

"Why don't you sit, Nelson. This will take a while," I said calmly.

He hesitated and then plopped into a deck chair across from me.

"So?"

"You've been seeing my sister for months and months," I began. "As recently as last week," I added. "She told you that?"

"No, she didn't tell me half of it," I said. "There's no point in your denying anything either," I said. I reached down to turn on a lantern and then I handed it to him along with the folder Nicholas Koson had given me. He twisted his lips into a crooked smile and shook his head.

"What is this, I wonder?"

He read and I waited as he turned the pages. When he found his pictures, he blew a soft whistle.

"You had us followed?" he asked incredulously.

"I did on a suspicion that quickly turned into a dreadful reality," I said.

"I can't believe it," he muttered closing the packet.

"Imagine how I feel, Nelson. I think I feel more betrayed than Louise will feel," I said. With the light glow of the lantern on his face, he looked as pale as a ghost, his dark eyes strangely haunted.

"You intend to tell her?" he finally asked.

"No," I replied and took a deep breath. "I'll leave that aspect of your life to you."

"Olivia, I have no defense except to say my life has been so complicated lately, I needed some distraction. I happened to meet Belinda in Boston one night and she . . well, she can be so beguiling. I shouldn't have succumbed to temptation again, I know, but I had been drinking and she's so full of lightness, it . . ."

"I don't really want to hear all that, Nelson. You did quite a job on me, put on some act, especially that fiction about her asking you for work. I should have realized Belinda is too simple to deceive and connive."

He nodded and leaned forward, his hands clasped.

"I want to promise you, to swear to you on my children that from this night on, . ."

"It's too late for that," I said with a heavy voice, the voice of a judge pronouncing the most severe sentence, a voice he himself knew so well.