"Not at the moment. If you want to see the child, come by tomorrow night after ten," I said.
"You're making a mistake, Olivia," he said in a tired, defeated voice.
"I don't think you have the moral right nor the insight to make that conclusion, Nelson."
"Okay," he said. "I'll be there after ten."
He was. He would do whatever I asked him to do from now on, I thought. Haille was like a whip in my hand. As long as she was in my home, Nelson would be at my beck and call. It gave me a sense of power. It wasn't love, but for the moment, it seemed to satisfy me.
I quickly realized that something dreadful had happened in the dark corridors of Belinda's mind after she gave birth. She became very withdrawn, almost catatonic. Whenever she saw the baby that night, she looked at it as if she were surprised to see it. It was as though she had lost her memory of her pregnancy and especially the delivery. Even days later when she rose from her bed and moved about the room, she was like someone who had emerged from a coma. She wore a strange, blank look on her face, smiled and laughed at the silliest things, behaving as if she were not much older than Jacob. In fact, she wandered into his playroom often and sat amusing herself with his toys until I would come home and demand she shower and dress. I had Effie put her on something of a diet, but she cheated, sneaking around the house, nibbling on crackers and cookies and even stealing the children's desserts.
She avoided Haille, sometimes acting so terrified of her own child that she would tremble and cry. It was as if she thought the baby might return to her womb and she would have to give birth again.
Sometimes, right in the middle of my talking to her, Belinda would burst into tears. When I would ask her why she was crying, she would just shake her head and moan, "I don't know. I can't help it."
Frustrated, I would leave the room. The truth was I was frightened by her behavior, frightened at my inability to change it or stop it.
Nelson didn't see her the first time he came to see Haille. Belinda's door was shut and she was asleep. I greeted him at the front door myself and led him up the stairs to the nursery. Samuel, who was reading in our bedroom, came out to see Nelson. They shook hands, but said little to each other. I brought him to the nursery and he entered slowly. Thelma wasn't there, so it was just Nelson, myself and Samuel.
"Pretty, isn't she?" Samuel said when Nelson peered into the bassinet.
"Yes."
"I bet she's going to be a beauty, huh, Olivia?" Samuel said.
"We'll see," I said.
"She does look healthy," Nelson said, his voice thick with surprise.
"Babies born out of wedlock can be healthy, too," I remarked. He grimaced.
Then he straightened up and looked at both Samuel and me.
"Can I talk you people out of this? Can I offer to have her placed in a good home?"
"No," I said sharply. I looked at Haille. "She's a Gordon now. Maybe she'll never know who her father really is, but she'll always know this part of her heritage," I said.
"When Olivia's determined about something, Nelson, she's unmovable," Samuel said, smiling.
Nelson glanced at me.
"I know," he said. He looked at the baby again. "Do you want any money now?"
"When I need something from you," I said. "You'll be told."
He turned away from me quickly.
"How about a d
rink, Nelson?" Samuel offered him. He put his arm around Nelson's shoulder.
"Sure," Nelson said. He glanced at me furtively once more before leaving with Samuel.
I gazed down at the sleeping infant. She was pretty. I didn't want to admit it to Nelson, but I had expected her to be uglier, even possibly deformed because she was Belinda's child. My emotions were frazzled. Part of me had hoped she was going to be that way, and yet a part of me was happy she was a perfect little girl. She would dazzle people right before Nelson's eyes and he would look at me with an aching heart. It still seemed like delicious revenge.
In the months that followed, Belinda finally got so she took some interest in herself again and did her hair and her makeup, but now, she overdid her makeup and she looked foolish, even clownish. It didn't matter what I told her. She would look at me and smile, agree and then keep doing what she was doing. I grew disgusted and talked to Samuel about sending her away for a while.
"Perhaps a holiday would get her back to normal, not that I ever approved of what she called being normal," I said.