Low Pressure

She dabbed at fresh tears and spoke in a voice made husky by emotion. “Howard is my Prince Charming, you know. My knight in shining armor. I loved my first husband dearly, but what I felt for him was like a spark to a bonfire when compared to the way I feel about your father. When we met, Howard seemed larger than life to me. Can you appreciate that?” She looked into Bellamy’s eyes, seeking understanding on a woman-to-woman basis.

Bellamy nodded. To her twelve-year-old self, Dent had been larger than life. He’d been that way in her daydreams as well. “Yes. I know exactly what you mean.”

“My first husband’s prolonged illness had been a financial drain. There wasn’t much left in the coffer after he died, so I was lucky to have my job at the accounting firm. I wasn’t a charity case, but I was on a budget.

“So here I was, a working single mom. And there was Howard, a man of wealth, importance, and position. He excited and terrified me all at once.”

“Why terrified you?”

“I knew from the start that he had fallen in love with me, knew he wanted me in his life. He told me so on our second date. And, Lord knows, I wanted him. But I was afraid of failing to live up to his expectations. What if he thought that I’d married him only for the security and benefits that came with him? I would have loved him no matter what, and wanted so badly to make him happy, to make his life as full and complete as he’d made mine.”

Bellamy squeezed her hand. “You have. There’s absolutely no doubt of that, Olivia. You’ve been his lifeblood. As his only surviving child, it almost pains me to say this, but when he draws his last breath, it will be your name on his lips.”

With a sob, Olivia leaned forward and rested her forehead against Bellamy’s shoulder. For a time, Bellamy stroked her back, giving her what small comfort she could when her Prince Charming was about to leave her.

Eventually she sat up straight and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Okay, I’ve had my cry. We got off the subject. Why did you go see Steven at this particular time?”

“Even when I was researching my book, he was reluctant to talk to me about that Memorial Day. We’d never discussed it as adults. I wanted to hear his point of view.”

The warmth she’d shared with Olivia just moments earlier cooled significantly. Olivia bowed her head and stroked her furrowed forehead with the pads of her fingers.

“Bellamy, Howard and I held our peace when you were writing the book. We didn’t like the idea, but it wasn’t our place to interfere. But this… this obsession of yours is puzzling and upsetting. Terribly upsetting if I’m being honest. We don’t understand it.” Raising her head, she met Bellamy eye to eye. “Don’t you want to put the incident behind you, forget it?”

“I can’t,” Bellamy whispered earnestly. But she refrained from telling her stepmother that she couldn’t forget what she couldn’t remember.

She was spared having to say anything more when a nurse entered the room. “Mrs. Lyston, the doctor will be available shortly to speak with you. In the meantime, Mr. Lyston is conscious if you want to go in.”

Olivia gave Bellamy a nudge. “You go. He’ll want to see you.” Then, clutching Bellamy’s hand, she added, “But promise me you won’t upset him with talk of Susan’s death.”

Bellamy was shocked by how much her father had declined over the two days since she’d seen him. His cheeks and eye sockets were deeply sunken, making his face look skeletal. He breathed through colorless, partially open lips even though he was getting supplemental oxygen through a cannula. Beneath the light blanket, his form looked pathetically unsubstantial.

She moved to the bedside and took his frail hand in hers. At her touch, his eyes fluttered open. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hey, good-lookin’. Whacha got cookin’?”

It was their special greeting, one that had made her giggle as a girl, especially if it was accompanied by a gentle poke to her ribs. Now, she smiled through her tears.

“Forgive me for not standing,” he said.

“You’re forgiven.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“Sit.”

Mindful of all the tubes and lines snaking from beneath the covers to various machines, she carefully lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

“Where’s Olivia?” he asked.

“Waiting to talk to the doctor.”

“He’s going to tell her she needs to give up and let go.” His voice was creaky with emotion and his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Help her through this, Bellamy.”

“You know I will.”

He clasped her hand more tightly. “There’s something else I need you to do for me.”

“Don’t worry about the business. It’s a well-oiled machine that practically runs itself. But I’m willing to do whatever you need me to.”

“This isn’t about the company. It’s about Susan.”