then plucked one of his cigars out of the case on the
table beside him.
"Are those Havana cigars, Mr. Gordon?" Peter
asked as Daddy began to light it.
Daddy raised his eyebrows.
"What do you know about cigars?"
"Not much, but my father smokes Havanas. I
can get some for you," he added, his attempt to win
favor blatantly obvious.
"I'm quite capable of getting my own," Daddy
replied sternly.
"Are you here to visit Belinda or jabber with
my father?" I asked them.
Quin poked Peter with his elbow and the three
followed me out of the study and to the stairway. "Normally, my parents don't approve of my
sister having male visitors in her room," I said as I led
them up. One of them snickered, but I didn't give him
the satisfaction of showing I had heard.
I paused outside Belinda's bedroom door and
turned as the three gathered anxiously around me.
What power did Belinda possess to cause young men
to exhibit such enthusiasm and desire? I wondered.
Was it simply her promiscuity or did she indeed have
something extra, something I could never have,
something given at birth, a quality of excitement, a
promise that stirred their male hormones like witches
stirred their brew.
"Just a moment," I said. They were breathing
down my neck in anticipation. If they were horses,
they'd be choking on their bridles and snorting, I
thought. I knocked.
"Yes?" Belinda called.
"You have visitors. Are you decent?" "Yes, Olivia. They can come in," she said and I
opened the door.
Anyone looking at Belinda now would surely
challenge my report of her birthing. Even I had to
admit I was impressed with how radiant she looked. I
knew Carmelita hadn't been up here after breakfast, so
it was clear Belinda had straightened up her room and
opened the curtains wide to permit the soft, bright
sunshine to come pouring through, making everything
look clean and fresh.
Belinda was wearing one of her sheerest
nighties, the neckline of which dipped into her
cleavage, revealing breasts well matured. With the
blanket lowered, the contour of her breasts was all but
fully revealed. She wore her well-brushed hair down
to her shoulders. The strands turned up softly at the
ends. Belinda always had richer looking hair than I,
but she fussed with it far more than I bothered with
my own. If she had her way, she would turn the walls
of her room into mirrors. She never seemed to tire of
looking at her own image.
"Pull up your blanket or put on your robe," I ordered. She blushed and pulled the blanket against
her chest quickly.
"Now, who's come to see me?" she declared
like some Southern belle.
The three boys moved timidly into her room. "They claim they called you, so I don't know
how you could wonder who it was, Belinda," I
remarked. She ignored me and concentrated on them. "I brought you these," Arnold said quickly and
thrust the bouquet of red roses toward her.
"Oh, they're just beautiful, aren't they, Olivia?
Can we find a vase for them?"
"We?" I asked.
She tilted her head with that childish grin. "Well, I don't think it would be proper for me to
get out of bed myself," she said, her eyelids fluttering
so emphatically, I thought she might fan herself up
and off the bed.
I grunted, stepped forward and took the
flowers. There was a vase on the dresser. I went into
the bathroom to fill it with water.
"I hope you can have candy," I heard Peter
Wilkes tell her.
"Of course I can," Belinda said. "Olivia loves
candy, too," she added loudly as I returned from the
bathroom.
"I certainly do not," I said. I put the vase down
on her nightstand and stuffed the long-stem roses into
it.
Belinda giggled and began to open the box. She
plucked a chocolate and held it between her lips,
closing her eyes and moaning so lustfully, the three
boys widened their own eyes and shifted about as
"Belinda, that's disgusting," I said. "If you're
going to eat it, eat it. Don't salivate all over it first." She laughed and sucked in the round treat,
offering the boys one. Each took a candy. I shook my
head vigorously when she turned the box to me. "Can you please put it on my table, Olivia," she
said.
I sighed deeply, not hiding my annoyance. How
had I suddenly become her maid? I wondered, but did
as she had asked.
"Tell me everything, everything I've missed and
leave out nothing, no matter how small it seems to
you," Belinda said clapping her hands and falling
back on her large, fluffy pink pillow. Her hair fell
around her face like a frame, bringing out the
brightness in her eyes.
"Arnold pitched a shutout yesterday to finish
the baseball season;" Peter declared. "He went the full
nine innings and gave up only three hits!"
"Oh, don't start talking to me about sports. All I
ever hear from you boys are scores and errors and
double plays. It's boring."
"Boring?" Peter said.
Quin laughed.
"Sure it is," he said. "Jock stuff is always
boring." He leaned over the bed toward Belinda. "I
wrote a new song for the band. We're calling it 'Take
me to the Beach.' "
"You must have them play it for me," Belinda
said.
"Sure. You'll come down to the garage as soon
as you're well enough."
"I'll be well enough Monday, won't I, Belinda?"
"You look well enough right now," I said dryly. "Quin
got caught smoking in the boys' room yesterday. He
won't be in school on Monday," Arnold revealed with
a gleeful smile.
"Really! Tell me about it," Belinda said, sitting
forward excitedly as though Quin had accomplished
something significant in her absence.
"Frog-eyes came in just after I lit up. He must have been watching me from his doorway, just looking for the opportunity. He's been after me ever since I wore those funny glasses and imitated him,
remember?"
"Of course I remember. That was so funny."
When Belinda laughed, they all laughed.
"And people wonder why I don't want to go
into teaching," I muttered. They turned to me. "You said you didn't like Mr. Garner either
when you were in high school, Olivia," Belinda said. "I said he wasn't very enthusiastic about his
work, but I didn't say he was a frog."
They all laughed again as if I had meant it to be
funny.
"Jerry gave Barbara a pretty expensive ring. It's
the closest thing to an engagement ring," Peter
continued. "He told me they intend to get married
soon after graduation."
"I already know about that. Marcia Gleason
told me last night on the phone," Belinda said. "Suicide Jerry, that's what we call him," Quin
said laughing.
"Don't make fun of him," Belinda moaned as if
she were seconds from bursting into tears. "He and
Barbara are really in love. It's wonderful when you can find someone with whom to spend your whole life, someone who will care more about you than he
does about himself, someone like my father." The three boys stopped smiling and accepted
her rebuke. How she dangled them on strings, I
thought, studying them each more closely. Who was
the father of her dead fetus? Certainly not Peter
Wilkes, unless Belinda got him to get her something
expensive in a trade. She could do that, I thought. "Anyone else come down with the flu this
week?" I inquired. One of them surely knew the truth
about Belinda.
Quin and Arnold looked at each other and then
shook their heads.
"I don't think so," Arnold said. "Bobby Lester
was out, but he twisted his ankle at the game." "We only have a couple of weeks until finals.
It's hard to miss class now," Peter said, "which
reminds me, Belinda. Here are my notes from English
literature class."
"Oh, thank you, Peter. That's so sweet." "Sweeter than the candy?" I asked. Belinda
laughed.
"My sister is so funny sometimes," she
explained. She took the notes and put them beside her.
"I'll do some studying later."
"That will be unusual," I remarked under my
breath, but loud enough to be heard.
"Olivia!"
English to graduate, Belinda."
"You said you'd help me study," she whined.
The boys looked from her to me to her as we spoke. "I will if you're serious about trying." "I am."
"I'll come up and study with you this week,"
Peter offered quickly.
"That's very nice of you, Peter. See, someone
cares about me," she cried with delight. Her eyes slid
from one boy to the other, melting each one into a
doting admirer as she passed her gaze like a
benediction, turning them into worshipers in seconds.
The sight disgusted me.
Where were the real men of today? I couldn't
imagine Daddy acting like this when he was their age. "I wish you had been at the game, Belinda.
When I threw that last pitch . ."
"There you go again, talking sports. If you don't
stop, I'll close my eyes and fall asleep," she
threatened.
If the conversation didn't center around her, she
wasn't interested.
"I just wanted to say I was thinking of you. This
one's for Belinda, I thought," Arnold told her. "Oh." She perked up, her dimple flashing.
"Well that's different. You won because of me. I want
everyone to know that," she declared. Arnold nodded
like a soldier taking orders to go forth and bellow the
news in the streets of Provincetown.
"They asked my band to play at the graduation
party on the beach," Quin blurted, attempting to win
back her attention.
"That's wonderful," Belinda cried.
"Can I pick you up and take you to the party?"
Arnold asked quickly.
"I can get my father's Cadillac," Peter
suggested. "I'll just come by with my motorcycle. You
can watch us set up," Quin added.
Belinda considered the offers and looked at me.
"What would you do, Olivia?"
"Walk," I said dryly.
She broke into a long, loud laugh and clapped
her hands.
"Walk. I love it. Yes, who will walk with me?" "If that's what you want to do," Arnold said
quickly. "I will."
Maybe he was the father after all, I thought.
She had denied it too quickly.
"I'm not sure yet. I'll think about it," Belinda
said coyly. She dangled her promise of acceptance
like bait and the three stood there nibbling like poor
dumb fish.
I retreated to the corner of the room where I sat
and watched and listened to them all go on and on
about their plans for graduation night. There was an
air of excitement about them that I longed to share. I
hadn't attended any graduation parties when I had
graduated. Daddy, Mother, Belinda and I simply went
to have dinner in the Steak and Brew House.
Afterward, I sat in my room and gazed out the
window into the night, thinking about the bonfires on
the beach, the music and the laughter I was not
sharing. No one had asked me to go and I hated
attending parties with my wallflower girlfriends. The
worst thing was to stand around and hope some boy
would show me some attention, as if I were a beggar
looking for a handout of affection. I would never give
any boy the satisfaction. If loneliness was the price to
pay until someone right came along, than that was the
price, I decided, and tried not to think about it. But it wasn't easy going to sleep and wondering
what sort of man would come knocking on my door,
bringing me boxes of candy and flowers and standing
around anxiously, waiting for a compliment, a look of
pleasure, a promise from my lips as did these three
hovering over Belinda.
"It's getting late," I finally announced. They all
turned to me as if just realizing I was still there. "Yeah, I've got to get to a rehearsal," Quin said.
"I hope you feel better," Arnold said.
"Me too," Peter followed.
Belinda sat forward, permitting the blanket to
fall too low again. The three sets of eyes widened and
held on the depth of her cleavage. I cleared my throat
loudly and nodded at her and she pulled the blanket
back up.
"I'll call you tomorrow," Arnold promised. They all made the same promise and then
started out. I followed them to the doorway and
watched them descend the stairs before turning back
to Belinda.
"Wasn't that nice?" she asked.
"Which one was it, Belinda?"
"Pardon?"
"You know what I mean. Who was the father?"
She shook her head.
"I told you. I don't know, Olivia. Besides,
Daddy said we shouldn't talk about it anymore," she
cried, turning her face to the pillow.
"Was it one of them? It was, wasn't it?" "Please, Olivia."
"Does he know, whoever it is? Does he know
what happened in this room?"
"Stop it, Olivia." She put her hands over her
ears. "I won't listen to you."
I closed in on her.
"Did you call him and tell him what went on,
what your father had to do? Did you?"
"No. I don't know who I would call, I told you." "Disgusting, Belinda. It's disgusting enough to
do what you did, but to not know . . ."
She started to cry.
"I'm going to get sick again and I won't be able
to return to school," she threatened.
"Won't that be a great loss for the school," I
muttered.
I left her sniffling and went downstairs to find
Daddy. He was in his office filing some papers. It was
where he kept all our personal tax documents and
family papers. He turned from the cabinet when I
entered.
"Don't you think that was nervy, coming here
like that, Daddy? Surely, one of them . . ."
"Don't, Olivia," he said, holding up his hand.
"We've put it out of mind."
"I know, Daddy. I'm just . . . so angry at her for
what she's done," I said.
"Yes, I know, but you've got to look after her,
Olivia. We've learned that lesson."
Why Daddy tolerated weakness in Belinda and
no one else, including my mother, was a question that
stuck like a bone in my throat.
"I'm depending on you to watch over her," he
said. "She'll listen to you."
"She hasn't up until now, Daddy. That's been
proven in a terrible way."
"I know, but I believe she will change," he
insisted.
I stared at him a moment and he had to shift his
eyes from mine, something he rarely did. We had an
unspoken but realized connection, an understanding,
Daddy and I. We knew we couldn't lie to each other. He was lying to me right now and he knew I
knew it. He didn't really believe Belinda could
change.
Why was he lying?
My anger at Belinda expanded like a balloon
filling with hate because she was making Daddy lie. Someday, I vowed, she would understand and
appreciate what she has done and she will beg
forgiveness. In my heart, however, I believed it would
be too late for me to grant it.
Remarkably, Belinda passed her finals in
English, just barely and with a great deal of tutoring. I
had the distinct impression, however, that she also got
a little help from her teachers, maybe because of
Daddy's position in the community. During the week
before the graduation ceremony, Mother asked Daddy
to take us to Boston to find a nice dress for Belinda.
She wanted her to look special. It was as if Mother
had discovered a way to compensate for the terrible
thing that had occurred: to dwell on Belinda's
festivities so intensely there was no time to think
about or remember anything else. In one spending
spree, she would wipe away the dark clouds that clung
to the corners of our home. There would be no
shadows, no reminders, nothing but bright and happy
things. Daddy seemed more than eager to please her
and follow her lead to the world of "see no evil, hear
no evil."
At the last moment Mother decided to outdo
even herself and have a designer come to our home
and create an original dress for Belinda to wear. The
cost would easily be three times as expensive as an