Olivia (Logan 5)

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sp; "No," he said with that soft, charming smile returning, "I can see that." He sat back. The fog thickened. Drops of mist made our clothing damp. "Does Samuel know?"

"No, not yet. I'll deal with him later," I said.

"So he doesn't know what you intend to do about the child? Don't you think he should have a voice in this? I mean, you're going to ask him to be a father."

I felt myself coil tightly like a spring.

"You'll always be the child's father, Nelson. You and I will always know that to be so," I reminded him curtly.

"Why are you doing this, Olivia? There's more to it. I know there is. Why do you want to bring up my child in your home?"

"It's my sister's child, too."

"Yes, but . . . there's more to it, Olivia."

"It should have been my child," I said, disbelieving my own voice, my own utterance. How did such a truthful feeling escape the prison in my heart? Nelson nodded. He seemed to understand.

"Don't do this, Olivia. It won't be what you expect it to be," he said, now sounding prophetic too.

"I'm doing it," I said. "We're doing it," I corrected. He blew air between his closed lips and looked away. The first drops of rain began to fall.

"We're going to get caught in something here," he said.

"Let's go inside the yacht," I said and rose. He followed, but with reluctance. I snapped on a small lantern in the lounge and sat on the sofa. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall. The rain began to grow harder.

"There's a small storm sweeping through. It won't last," he said.

His damp hair fell over his forehead. How young and handsome he looked and how much he reminded me of that night when he and I and Belinda had gone walking on the beach, the night he went swimming with her, the night it all began.

He stared at me.

"Olivia, you don't know what you're doing here. You can't play with people like you play with pieces on a chess board. Chess pieces aren't made of flesh and blood and haven't feelings and emotions."

"You should be more grateful that I can play with people, Nelson. I'm solving your problem and saving your reputation, your career, your life."

He smiled.

"How do you want me to show my gratitude, Olivia?" "You found it so easy to show Belinda how grateful you could be," I said. His smile faded.

"You really don't want me to . . . want us to . ." The rain that tapped on the roof of the yacht seemed to tap on my very soul as well.

"Am I so distasteful to you?"

"Of course not, but this is different. It's . . ."

"What?"

"Samuel is a good friend of mine and . . ."

"Oh please," I said. "Don't start quoting that fiction about males who've bonded and don't betray each other. You're all cut from the same cloth when it comes to this."

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry you're so bitter."

"Are you?" Tears came to my eyes. "What do you know about being bitter? You've always gotten what you wanted, haven't you? You don't know what frustration is, what longing can be, how lonely it's possible to be."