Olivia (25 page)

Belinda to gather some of her clothing and bring her back, I phoned Effie to inform her of what had occurred and gave her instructions about cleaning the house. I could tell from her tone of voice that even though she was upset about Daddy, she was
particularly happy Belinda wouldn't be in her way during the next few days. She took great pride in her work and was almost as upset about what Belinda had done as I was.

As soon as I finished the phone conversation, I asked my own newly appointed maid Loretta to, make me a cup of tea. Loretta had come to me by way of a Boston agency and was, I thought, similar in character to Effie: serious, sincere and efficient. I sat by the window in my own den-office and gazed at the still very gray world. From this angle I had a small but clear view of the ocean behind the house and caught sight of a trawler making its way north.

The vessel revived memories I had as a child occasionally sitting in the gazebo at early evening with Daddy.

Belinda was always bored with just sitting, talking and looking at scenery and was usually in the house on the phone or entertaining some friends who had come over to visit with her.

"We're very lucky to be living by the sea," Daddy told me. "I can't imagine what life is like stuck in some city high-rise gazing out at more brick, concrete and steel. We can look out like this and see ships go by day and night and imagine ourselves traveling to some exotic ports or beautiful lands. Some day I suppose you'll do a great deal of traveling, Olivia. You're sure to see more of the world than I have."

"Why, Daddy? Why haven't you traveled more?"
"Oh, I guess I've been too involved in my businesses. Nailed myself to the floor of my office, I'm afraid. Don't be like me. Get out there. Do things. See things. Explore," he advised. "See the world. Take an ocean voyage whenever you can."
Ironically, I felt that was more of a fantasy for me now than it ever was for him. Our business was literally three or four times the size it was when he and I sat out back and gazed dreamily at passing ships. Along with the economic growth came three or four times the responsibility, and with a sister who was more a child than a woman, a husband who had limited business abilities, and now a father who was to be an invalid, my ship of adventure would remain moored to the dock for a long time to come, I thought.
Anyway, I was reminded of Ishmael telling Captain Pelig in Moby Dick that he wanted go whaling to see the world. Pelig told him to stand and look over the side of the ship and tell him what he saw. He saw nothing but water and considerable horizon. "Well then," Pelig said, "what does thou think of seeing the world?"
That was the view of the world from a ship for most of the journey a sailor made. I could see the same world from my own shore. I was really no sailor and the sea, as beautiful as it could be, held no irresistible attraction for me. Maybe my real father was a sailor as my mother had revealed, but the sea quest that was in his blood did not seep into mine. I was content enjoying an occasional sail and living here in my own world where I could be secure and had some control over my destiny.
Sitting here now, I recalled one special time alone with Daddy. We had remained outside longer than usual. The first stars had long since appeared and the sun had dipped below an azure horizon turning the ocean into a deeper silvery gray. The lights of boats miles off shore appeared. We sat quietly, neither of us having the need to say anything. Finally he declared it was time to go in. Mother had already gone up to bed and Belinda was in her room jabbering on the phone and laughing that giddy laugh that drove me mad. Daddy went to his office and sent me up to my room. I heard him come up the stairs afterward and stop at my door. He peeked in at me.
"All in bed are you?" he asked.
"Yes," I said feeling snug and content.
Nevertheless, he approached and tucked me in a little tighter before leaning over to kiss me good night. It wasn't something he did that often and I remember thinking it was a very extraordinary moment.
"You and I have had some very grown-up talks, Olivia," he said. "I think you're going to become an adult much sooner than other girls your age. I'm happy and sad at the same time about that," he said. "You'll miss something of your childhood."
"Don't be sad, Daddy. I don't mind."
"Okay," he said smiling. "Good night, Little General."
"Good night, Daddy," I said.
There weren't all that many soft moments in my life to remember like that, but tonight, sitting here alone, thinking about Daddy half destroyed by a stroke and now incapacitated in the hospital, those memories, few and far between, returned, some only vague images, some vivid. I sat there thinking so long, I didn't realize how much time had passed. It obviously had taken Belinda quite a while to get her things together; she probably protested the whole time about having to make any choice at all.
The gray skies had turned leaden and the sea practically disappeared in the dusk before I heard Belinda and Samuel come into the house. Belinda was loud, complaining. I rose and went out to see what was wrong.
"Effie didn't offer to bend a pinky to help me, Olivia. She took one look at us and went off to do some cleaning or something," Belinda moaned. "What kind of a maid is that? I want you to fire her."
"She's the best one we've had since Carmelita," I said. "This is not the time for us to go firing help and having to look for new servants, Belinda. There are much more important matters at hand. Just go up to the guest room. Loretta will help you," I said as Loretta appeared. "We're having dinner soon and then we're all going to try to calm down and gather strength for the days to come."
"Oh great," she griped to Samuel. "It sounds like I'm going to become a prisoner in my sister's house now."
"Hardly," I said, "but you are going to behave yourself while Daddy is in that hospital and especially when he comes out and needs your help."
"Maybe I should plan a trip so I can get out of everyone's way," she suggested as a threat.
I nodded.
"Yes, maybe you should," I replied. It took her down a peg. She started to stammer, but headed up to the guest room instead.
Belinda didn't take a trip until after Daddy had been released from the hospital and his therapy at home had begun. His neurologist felt Daddy might reach 60 percent of his previous motor capabilities during the first six months of therapy, and his speech would become understandable, but after that, improvement, if any, would be very slow and hard in coming. It meant he had to spend hours with a speech therapist and physical therapist. Equipment was brought to the house and the master bedroom became a therapy center. We had to have a special duty nurse round the clock for a while. The activity and presence of all the medical personnel unnerved Belinda. Ironically, Belinda, who was his true blood daughter, couldn't stand, the sight of him twisted and
diminished in his wheelchair. She avoided him as much as she could during the months of therapy at home. She was at the office more than usual just to get away from it all, and finally decided to take a trip to visit some friends in Florida. I was in my last trimester of pregnancy and although I was feeling the best I had during the entire term, I was glad to get her out of my hair for a while.
Daddy felt horrible about being a burden and began every one of my visits bemoaning his condition and telling me to simply send everyone away and let him be. He cried a lot too, which Doctor Covington explained to be part of his condition.
I tried keeping his spirits up by making detailed business reports every afternoon, but most of the time, he was too exhausted to listen or understand, and he often fell asleep while I read off figures or discussed deals and negotiations. I would sit awhile longer to see if he would wake, and then I would leave him in the hands of his nurse.
Samuel was good about visiting with Daddy and went almost daily. He really didn't enjoy being trapped in an office anyway and looked forward to every excuse to go out and meet with people, even if it meant sitting and watching Daddy go through his therapy. He got permission to take Daddy for some rides and even worked out a short motor boat ride on a particularly beautiful weekend day.
Before Belinda returned from Florida, Nelson and Louise Childs visited Daddy. Samuel came to tell me that afternoon and I regretted not having been there, even though I thought I looked like a small blimp. I had seen Nelson only a few brief times since the wedding, but before I had become bloated and waddled instead of walked. He and Louise were busy sitting up their home and Nelson had begun to take on more legal chores at his father's firm. I heard he had done well in court and there was even some early talk about him running for a local judgeship. Six months after their wedding, Louise became pregnant, too.
"He's just trying to keep up with me," Samuel bragged.
"I hardly think fathering a child is much of an accomplishment, Samuel," I told him. "It's certainly not my test of manhood." He just laughed and shook his head at me the way he always did when I said something with which he didn't agree.
During the last month of my pregnancy, I spent less time at the office. Samuel brought home the important papers for me to peruse. One night I had some bleeding and I had to be taken to the hospital. It turned out to be nothing serious, but I was irritable and uncomfortable all through my final two weeks. Then, on a Sunday, right before dinner, my water broke and Samuel rushed me to the hospital where I delivered my first-born, a son, whom we named Jacob for my father's father.
I held my baby in my arms and looked up at Samuel's beaming face.
"He's the best piece of work we've done together, Olivia," he declared.
"We've done?"
"Well, I did have a little to do with it, didn't I?" he protested.
"Yes, you did, a little. That's what men contribute, a little. You didn't have back pains, vomit, struggle to get up from a chair and go through hell in a delivery room," I reminded him. He laughed.
"I guess not, but he looks like me, doesn't he?" "Maybe he'll grow out of that," I said and Samuel laughed harder.
"I declare, Olivia, if I didn't know better I'd think if you could have been both mother and father, you would have, and liked it, too," he said.
Maybe he was right. In any case, I thought, looking at Jacob's tiny face and hands, I had begun my own family.
We hired a nanny immediately to help me with Jacob. Her name was Thelma Stuart. She had bad five children of her own, all now grown and away living their own lives. Her husband had died two years before. She was looking for work to keep her occupied and had served as a nanny for a year and a half for a couple I knew, who had recently moved to California. She was a soft-spoken woman, and caring. I was lucky to have her, especially during the early days because Jacob was a colicky baby.
Nevertheless, Samuel was ecstatic that our firstborn was a male and the sight of Jacob did appear to help brighten Daddy's spirits. He truly enjoyed our visits with Jacob and seemed more animated when the baby was present. He enjoyed holding him. By that time, he had regained use of his arm and he had enough strength to cradle the baby for a few minutes, as long as Thelma stood over him. I didn't have to ask her to do so. From the first day she came to work in our home, Thelma was as protective of Jacob as I would be.
Belinda had a strange reaction to the sight of her newborn nephew. She complimented him, of course, but she had no interest in holding him, feeding him, or being around him long for that matter. She told Thelma that babies made her nervous. When she looked at Jacob and then lifted her eyes to look at me, we both knew what put this tension in her face.
"Who'd have thought you would have ever become someone's mother?" she said with a laugh. She meant to tease me, but I glared at her.
"Why not?" I replied after a moment, "I've had to be yours for so Icing."
"Very funny, Olivia. You see, Thelma, she's always knocking me down. I could get a complex."
"Please, spare us," I cried.
Thelma laughed but I knew she was perceptive enough to see how much of a burden Belinda had been, and still was.
When Louise Childs gave birth, Samuel was again ecstatic. He came to the office to tell me with a wide, gloating smile on his face.
"Guess what?" he said stepping into my office. "Louise gave birth this morning, but it was a daughter."
"There's nothing wrong with having a daughter, Samuel. Are they both doing well?"
"Yes, but Nelson's not. He went into hiding," he said with a laugh.
"The only thing with less intelligence than a chauvinistic man is a clam," I declared and he roared.
"Nevertheless," he bragged, "I've got a boy."
The first year of Jacob's life passed so quickly, I couldn't believe we were celebrating his first birthday so soon. Daddy had improved to the point where he could carry on a short conversation and walk with a walker. His arm didn't quite regain half its strength and his hand was more like a claw. He had to eat very slowly and it was always very messy. Belinda got so she couldn't take a meal with him and avoided doing so.
"It turns my stomach to see the soup drool down his chin or the food on his lip, Olivia. Don't yell at me," she cried when I complained about her leaving Daddy to eat his dinner alone every single night. "I can't eat and that upsets him more!"
I didn't doubt she had trouble sitting there. She was never good at stomaching anything. Even a cut on her finger terrified her. The sight of blood turned her a shade whiter than milk. I never forgot how sickly pale and terrified she looked the night she gave birth to the premature fetus.
"Well, try not to make him feel like some sort of creature, Belinda. Imagine what he's going through and remember some of the unpleasantness he helped you through," I lectured.
"I'll try," she promised, but still she rarely ate with him.
Maybe Daddy was better off with her out of his sight. She was still doing little with her life. She tried to take an adult education secretarial course given at the high school in the evening, promising to master some skills and really do some worthwhile work at the office. Daddy actually had high hopes for her, and was very upset when he learned a few months later that she had stopped going to the class. She pretended she had been attending, but simply met her degenerate friends and either went bar hopping or, when the weather was good, to a party on the beach or on someone's yacht. It got so I couldn't keep track of whom she was with and when. There were just too many new boys in her life.
The stories about her flowed freely my way, of course. Our acquaintances, especially the wives of our business associates, loved leaking the tales to me or to Samuel. Finally, I decided to take some serious action and I went to see Daddy early one afternoon. I was determined to stop my sister from tearing down everything good and respectable about our family. Why should I be afraid to go to fine restaurants or social affairs, afraid that someone would mention her and ruin my evening?
I found Daddy dozing in the living room and woke him. I told him I had come to talk about Belinda. His eyes grew dark.
"We can't ignore her any longer," I began. "I've written to the Collier Business College in Boston, and I've gotten Belinda enrolled in their courses for a year. Yesterday, I spoke with Cousin Paula, and she agreed to rent her upstairs room to Belinda. It's walking distance from the school. You've got to insist she goes and you've got to threaten to cut off all funds from her if she doesn't go and succeed. If you don't take a strong stand with her now, Daddy, I don't know what will become of her. This is the very last time I'm going to try to help."
He stared at me with those big, watery eyes. His lower lip still looked unhinged in the right corner, just showing some of his teeth.
He nodded and promised, but I had to come to the house and be there when Belinda put up her usual opposition.
"I don't want to live with Cousin Paula," she whined.
"She's old and cranky. She'll make my life miserable. I'd rather have my own apartment," she concluded. "Or I won't go," she said stamping her foot like some petulant five-year-old.