Olivia (Logan 5)

However, Belinda enjoyed being the center of everyone's attention now, and especially enjoyed leading Carson about on an invisible leash. She beamed when he opened doors for her and pulled out her chair for her at dinner. She was even more flamboyant than usual when she was brought to restaurants or gala affairs in his Rolls Royce. Now that she was being courted by such a gallant prospect, she insisted she needed more expensive clothing and real jewelry. Daddy put up very little opposition when Belinda and Mother went on one of Belinda's frequent shopping sprees to Boston so she could have just the right thing to wear to some event Carson was taking her to.

From what I could see, Carson was dazzled by her. Most of the girls he knew or pursued were not impressed by him, despite his perfect behavior and good looks, yet here he was winning the heart of one of the town's most beautiful, eligible young women. Belinda saw where and how she could take advantage of him and soon was treating him more like a golden retriever, sending him on errands, having him fetch this and that, making him jump with a look or a gesture.

And when he asked her to marry him, giving her a diamond big enough to pop eyes, she waved it about like a flag, never sitting without pressing her palm to her cheek so the ring was obvious to everyone around her and never wearing gloves.

Mother began to plan the wedding and Daddy felt like he had succeeded in reaching the most important goal of his life: soon, soon, Belinda would be another man's responsibility. As for Belinda, she surprised me by her apparent enjoyment of every aspect: the announcements in the social columns, the invitations to the formal dinners, the adulation and attention.

"I'm finally respectable," she told me one night. "And you thought it would never be."

She laughed and went off to prepare to go to dinner with Carson.

However, something gnawed at my walls of complacency until suspicions began to slip out and tickle my imagination. I watched Belinda and Carson together more closely. Yes, he doted on her, but Belinda usually got bored with someone like this quickly, I thought. She was tolerating him more than I would have expected. She was being too cooperative for Daddy. Something, the little voice inside me warned, was amiss.

The truth was I often gazed at her and Carson and thought to myself she could devour him in minutes. She teased him often; she made him do silly things; she laughed at things he said and whenever she kissed him, or stroked him with affection, it resembled the affection a sister might give a brother. Certainly, they had not reached the stage of love Belinda was accustomed to reaching in a relationship, I thought. I doubted that they had been to bed and when I asked her about it, she laughed and told me, "Carson believes a man and a woman should not sleep together until they're married."

"And what did you say to that?" I asked.

"I told him that's what I believe," she said.

"So he believes you're a virgin?"

"Olivia! Of course he does. Why shouldn't he?"

Why shouldn't he? I thought. I'm sure your name's on ba

throom walls, dear sister. What about your old boyfriends and the one who made you pregnant? Carson didn't know any of these boys of course, and if he heard them say anything about Belinda, he wouldn't believe it anyway, I thought, and for that matter, he wouldn't frequent the places where Belinda's name could be written on the bathroom walls. He was perfect, and believed that Belinda was too. Maybe he wanted so much for her to be true, he made himself believe. Everyone, I concluded, chooses his or her own version of the truth, fits it to his or her own image of how things should be, and throws back those aspects that don't fit as easily as throwing back small fish. The only reality was the reality we accepted.

Despite this explanation for Carson's behavior, it still didn't satisfy my musings concerning Belinda. Why was she being such a good daughter and such a perfect fiancee? Daddy wanted to believe she had changed; she had come to some realizations about herself and her life and she had grown up, practically overnight. Daddy was yet another person choosing his version of reality, I thought.

The wedding was planned for the spring. Not a day went by now that Mother didn't consider, discuss or investigate some aspect of the affair. It was going to be one of the most elegant and extravagant weddings on the Cape, and Belinda would be the star. She wallowed in all of the attention, stacking catalogues of wedding dresses, samples of materials, pictures of hair styles, shoes, flower arrangements, dresses for bridesmaids, all of it in her room. Caterers, designers, arrangers, were parading in and out of the house weekly, making their presentations and answering questions. The event took over our daily lives and became the sole subject of conversation at dinner and at Daddy's family meetings. It was truly as if the world now revolved around Belinda, her happiness and her wishes. The princess was about to become a queen.

Despite all this, all the reasons why Belinda should be and apparently was very happy, I remained skeptical. Her tolerance of Carson continued to bother me. This was the longest she had been with any one man, especially one who wasn't yet a lover.

True, her social life was a whirlwind of activity. There wasn't an event, an affair that Carson didn't propose they attend, and for each, Belinda had to make special preparations. It did take over much of her life, enough to get her away from the office and fill her days. Daddy was never as happy and Mother was very relaxed as well.

"Ain't it grand?" Daddy said one day. "A year ago we thought she was going to be a lifelong disaster, going from one tragic event to another, and now . . . now she's going to be a real Cape Cod lady, huh?"

"Yes, Daddy," I said. "I hope so."

"Don't be so dark, Olivia. When things are planned as well as this was, they usually work out. Just do your homework," he instructed, "and you'll always do well."

I smiled and nodded to make him comfortable, but in my heart, I was nowhere as convinced as he was. And then, one March night, my suspicions justified themselves vividly, too vividly for me to stomach.

I was still awake when Carson brought Belinda home early from a charity affair in North Truro. Daddy and Mother had gone to bed because Daddy had a bad cold and Mother was feeling like she was about to come down with one herself. I watched some television and then went up to read. I had only my small night lamp on. The house was quiet. I heard Carson's Rolls pull up and I heard Belinda get out and be escorted to the front door. She came in and up the stairs very quietly. I poked my head out as she was passing.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I have a bad stomachache," she said. "Cramps. My period's coming, and besides, they were just making speeches. I fell asleep twice! I'm so tired. I'm going to sleep."

I nodded at the typical Belinda answer and watched her go into her room. I read a little longer and then put out the light. As I drew the covers up to my chin, I heard the floor creak outside my door and then distinctly heard someone going down the stairs. Curious, I rose and peered out just in time to see the top of Belinda's head disappear below the steps. I thought she had probably gone down to get herself something for her cramps. I felt like a glass of milk myself and threw on my robe. When I got downstairs, however, she was nowhere to be found. In fact, the lights were off in the kitchen.

However, I noticed the rear door was slightly open and I went to it quickly and stepped out on the landing. At first I saw no one and then I caught sight of her moving rapidly over the beach toward our boathouse. She was practically running. Why was she going there this time of the night? I wondered.

I went back to the foyer at the front entrance and got one of my jackets out of the closet. Then I returned to the rear door and followed after Belinda. We had a larger, grander boathouse than most other people because of Daddy's original enterprises, his boats and activities. A few years previous, before Daddy turned his den into an office, he had taken a part of the boathouse and turned it into a small office furnished with some file cabinets, a desk, some tables and chairs and a sofa. The walls had cork boards covered with data about the weather, fishing and lobster traps.

The night sky was streaked with thin, veil-like clouds, but the half moon was bright enough to penetrate any obstacle and illuminate the ocean and the shore. About a dozen yards from the boathouse, I thought I heard the sound of laughter and then spotted a small light in the office window. It was coming from the oil lantern on the desk. Drawing closer, I listened harder and thought I recognized the other voice, a male voice. It turned my heart into a small parade drum. For a moment I could barely breathe. I sucked in some air and stepped up to the window.

At first, I saw nothing, no one. Then I spotted them on the floor because the glow of the small lantern made their naked bodies- glitter. I pulled back, feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach. No, I thought. It can't be. How can it be? It's a dream. I'm standing out here in a nightmare of my own making. I'll close my eyes hard and then open them and be back in my own bed, snug.