“Lots of problems. Big problems. I was a bad girl.” She said it almost with a touch of pride, as though she had ventured to do things her generation could not approve of.

“I’m sure they couldn’t have been that bad.”

“They were.”

“I guess you’re here because you’re sick,” I said, not wanting to pry.

“Very sick. It’s all catching up with me now. But I’ll be going home soon, maybe in a day or two.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Not so wonderful. They can’t do much more for me. I don’t want to die in a hospital. I hate it here. I have a nice apartment. That’s where I belong.”

“Would you like to come to our house?”

“No. You’re a nice girl, Christine. You don’t want me there and I don’t want to be there. It’s too bad about Eddie. He never told you about me, did he?”

“No one did. I just remembered you and wanted to know who you were.”

“Your mom wouldn’t like this, you know. She didn’t want us to meet. I’m a bad influence on young girls.” She laughed and it ended in a cough that left her breathing with difficulty.

“Have you seen a priest?” I asked.

“Not for a long time. There’s nothing a priest can do for me. I did bad things and I hurt people. I stole from my parents.”

“Why?”

“I needed the money. Or at least I thought I did. I was pregnant.”

“They would’ve helped you.”

“No. No they wouldn’t. It was a different time, forty years ago. They were people who knew what was right. They’re hard to deal with, people like that. I think Francie could’ve forgiven me almost anything except the money, and she was right. I kept thinking I would pay them back someday, but they hated me too much. I couldn’t do it. I never saw them again. Francie and I tried to work something out, but we couldn’t. Then Eddie tried. Eddie the peacemaker. Your mother married a good man, I’ll say that for her.”

“Did you have an abortion?”

“Not that time. The first time I gave her up for adoption. It was for the best. I couldn’t take care of a baby. She never came looking for me and I never went looking for her. That’s the best way.” She took a breath and lay back, closing her eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Olive, I want to see you again.”

She turned her head back and forth on the pillow. “Just leave your name and number so someone can call you when I die. You’ll hear in a week or two. I don’t have much time left.”

“I’ll come to see you. If you’re feeling better, maybe we can take a walk together.”

“Your daddy’s girl,” she said. “I remember you at the parades, all dressed up. Those were such nice parades. I would’ve watched them even if Eddie hadn’t brought you.” She closed her eyes again and I watched her breathe deeply. She was asleep.

I stayed for a few minutes, but she didn’t wake up. I stood, touched her forehead with my hand, and then bent and kissed it. Then I left.

—

I called Sandy when I got home.

“No calls,” he said curtly. “Nothing. Nothing’s going to happen this time.”

“It’s early,” I said. “Lots of people don’t even look at the paper till they get home at night. Don’t forget to forward your calls tonight.”

“I won’t.” There was an almost surly overtone to his voice, something totally out of character. He always struck me as such a mild, easygoing man. It was getting to him finally.

“Tomorrow’s the day,” I said. “It’ll be in more papers tomorrow. You’ll hear something.”

“I’ll let you know.”

—

Jack and I talked about Olive in bed that night with the lights out. “She’s dying,” I said. “She’s so matter-of-fact about it, it’s shocking. ‘Give me your name and phone number so they can call you when I die. It’ll be a week or so.’ ”

“She’s probably had a long time to accept it.”

“I can’t bear the thought of her dying alone.”

“I think you have to respect her wishes, Chris. Just because she wants something different from what you would want, she sounds like a woman who knows her own mind.”

“She is.”

“You want her to forgive your mother, don’t you?”

In the dark, I wiped away the tears. My mother was perfect. I loved her without reservation, without if clauses and then clauses. I admired her life, her struggle, her relentless optimism in the face of disaster. If there were flaws in me, they were of my own making. “I guess so,” I said, as usual, surprised that my husband read me so well.

“Don’t expect miracles. Offer, but don’t be surprised if she turns you down.”

I knew it was good advice. “She looks like my mother. I don’t think I ever saw it when I was a child. Maybe it’s my grandmother she looks like. The age is about the same. She must have been a pretty girl.”

“She say how much money was involved?”

“No, but it must have been substantial for my grandparents to disown her.”

“You found her, honey. It’s enough.”

“It’s funny, all this talk about Natalie’s brother who wasn’t supposed to exist. I think I knew she was going to be a sibling. I think I expected it.”

“I love you, baby.”

I turned to him with an equal love, and accepted his arms.

26

Wednesday morning I called the hospital and talked to Olive briefly. She was tired and didn’t want company. She expected to be sent home Thursday or Friday, as soon as arrangements could be made for home assistance. I made some offers and she turned them down, but she gave me her home phone number, which I hadn’t asked for, and I promised to keep in touch.

I worked at my poetry class, finishing everything that needed to be done for next week. During the hours I sat at my desk, the phone never rang. I didn’t know what time of day the weekly paper came out upstate, but I felt edgy. It was going to happen soon, someone recognizing the picture of Al DiMartino’s sculpture.

Finally, finished with my classwork, I put my coat on, made sure the answering machine was on, and left the house. The sun was shining so brightly, it felt warm. I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked through a couple of streets to the strip of beach we all owned equally, a cove on Long Island Sound owned by a community organization Aunt Meg had always been part of. I stepped on the sand and it was again like Proust with his madeleines dipped in tea. I remembered coming here early in my relationship with Jack, walking along this strip with the first man in my life, feeling sensations I had never felt before or that I had repressed. There was a cold wind from the water today, but it made me feel good. I love the smell of the sea, and the sound is almost the Atlantic Ocean. I walked the half-moon strip, reliving happy memories. Someday, I hoped, I would take a child of mine to feel the water lapping on the beach.

The beach was empty today. Aunt Meg used to joke on summer days when one other person was there that it was crowded. Today I was the crowd. I walked around the cove to the end, then turned and came back again, feeling refreshed. Then I went home.

It was late afternoon now. Sandy would be leaving for home soon, or perhaps to work out at a gym or take in a movie. I picked up the phone and called him.

“Hello?” He was still answering the line himself.

“It’s Chris. Has anything happened?”

“Very little. I’ve come to a decision, Chris. I was going to call you when I got home. I want to end our investigation.”

“What do you mean?” I was aghast. It was impossible to stop now.

“Just what I said. It’s over. Send me a bill for whatever expenses my initial five hundred hasn’t covered and let’s call it a day.”

“Sandy, what’s happened?”

“Nothing’s happened. Nothing’s going to happen. Natalie is gone. I’ll never see her again. I’ve had a long time to get used to it. I think the time has come to get on with my life, as they say. I want to meet new women, get back in the swing of things.”