Olivia (Logan 5)

"Shall I remind you of a night not so long ago, a night filled with screams, a night that aged your father years in seconds? Shall I take you for a ride tomorrow and march you out to the back of our old house? Should I show you where he's buried?"

"Stop it!" She put her hands over her ears.

I drew closer, relentless.

"Did I ever tell you how it drove Daddy mad? How he heard a baby crying in the night? Did I ever tell you how he cried like a baby?"

"Stop it! Please," she begged.

"You will have this baby, Olivia, and it will be brought up in this home. We will bury no more children, not in the ground and not in someone else's family," I said through clenched teeth. "Don't you ever speak to him again. Do you understand? If he calls you, hang up the phone or tell him to talk to me. Are you listening?"

"Yes, Olivia. Yes."

"Go upstairs. You need your rest."

"I'm starting to show, Olivia. I have to wear something to hide it. I can't go out and meet people without their knowing eventually," she moaned.

"Don't worry about it. Soon, you'll stop going out and meeting people anyway," I said.

"What?"

"We're going to tell people that you're away and you're going to stay confined to the house and grounds until you give birth, Belinda. Don't worry about it."

"Confined?" She looked about, dazed.

"Just go upstairs. Do as I say," I told her firmly. "But . . ."

"How many women would be willing to take on the burden of their sister's illegitimate child, Belinda? How many? He or she will grow up with my boys and have the benefits they enjoy. When are you going to show me some gratitude and at least be cooperative enough to help me help you? When?" I screamed.

"Okay, Olivia. Okay," she said in a small voice. "What should I do?"

"Just . . . go upstairs," I said. She nodded, lowered her head and left the room.

The days turned to weeks and the arrangements I had described for Belinda came to pass. To ensure she didn't disobey, I had her phone disconnected. When her bubble gum friends called after that, I had them told she was visiting relatives for a few months. In time, the calls stopped and our lives settled down for a while.

Samuel did his best to amuse her during this period. He brought her presents, newspapers and magazines, records and tapes to occupy her time. By the middle of the ninth month, Belinda took to remaining in bed most of the day and never getting dressed. She let her hair go and she ate constantly, satisfying every craving, driving Effie mad with requests for this and that.

"It's not good for her, Mrs. Logan," Effie complained to me. "She's getting too fat. Thelma agrees."

"When I want opinions on diet, I'll ask. For now just give her anything she wants," I ordered.

However, I had to admit that when I looked in on her now, she reminded me of one of her stuffed animals, her face bloated, her stomach lifting the blanket into a small hill. Her arms resembled balloons. This pregnancy was a tumor eating away her beauty and good looks. She seemed to have lost all concern about herself anyway. Without her doting friends and her stream of boyfriends, she stopped using makeup. Even her hygiene began to suffer and if I didn't insist she take baths, she wouldn't wash her face and her hands for days. She got so she didn't get off the bed to urinate, but used a bedpan and left it for hours beside the bed until either I or Effie came by to empty it.

Eventually, I instructed Thelma to keep the children away from Belinda's room.

"She'll give them nightmares," I said.

Thelma was very worried about Belinda and how we were handling the pregnancy. She wasn't the type to interfere, but she stopped by my den-office one night to express her concern.

"I appreciate that, Thelma," I told her, "but for now it has to be this way."

"Why, Mrs. Logan?" she pursued.

I put aside what I was doing and sat back.

"It's really none of your business, but you've become part of our family so I'll tell you," I said and then went on to describe the disgrace. Without mentioning a name, I explained that Belinda was carrying an influential person's baby and we were trying to protect the child as well as Belinda. I asked her to just cooperate and understand and it satisfied her.

"I'll need you to spend more time with the children. I have to give more to Belinda right now," I said.