They found her dead with glass in hand, one foot on the floor. She had tried to get up to go to Sally, but the confused, sad and sickened heart had stopped.
Little Sally was too young to know much about the life going on around her, but she felt the loss of her mother keenly. Carlene was very cruel to Sally, called her slow, stupid, careless and other things to make her father see that she, Carlene, was his true daughter in his image and would grow up to be the son he wanted. Carlene told others, “My mother killed herself because she hated Sally. Because she was not my father’s baby. My mother was shamed.” Yes, even as young as she was, the coldness, the evil grew all by itself. Satan looked forward to knowing her better.
Carl loved Sally, but the time came when he didn’t like to show it when Carlene was around, so Sally suffered the loss. She was a lonely, little girl. She took after her mother—quiet and reserved, undemanding. She even resembled her. She tried always to be invisible so as not to bring herself to Carlene’s attention and bring on that terrible laughter and derision that tore her heart to pieces.
Sally was prettier than Carlene. Her father liked to put his arms around her because he liked beauty and was pleased to see it in his own child. But Carlene’s sharp tongue dripped venom as well as honey and she would ridicule them both until he sent Sally away. Once, Carlene took a pair of scissors and cut to pieces his new riding suit just sent from the East. She never did admit it. She blamed it on Sally. But Carl knew. He knew she was like him. And like his brother.
Alone so much as she grew up, Sally applied herself to her studies. She was intelligent and did very well in all her work. When grown, she cried, begged, pleaded to be sent away to some college or finishing school. This was the one time Carlene helped her. Finally Carl let her go. For peace. It was not long, perhaps three years or more, when Sally wrote she had fallen in love and gotten married. She was of age and it was legal. In fact, Sally had made a good marriage. Her husband, Gentle, came from a small but prosperous, old esteemed family. She was well provided for. Sally was able to make her husband happy for many years and gave him two children, a son Reginald and a daughter Lenore. She saw her father when he came east on business. Carl did not always tell Carlene about these visits, but he always enjoyed seeing Sally. He enjoyed, somewhat, Reginald and Lenore, except they were snobbish, selfish children who seldom smiled unless amused at someone’s discomfort. They were nothing like their mother. They had reached back past her to her in-laws. There were times Sally did not even like her own children. She did not go back to Yoville for many years.
Times were changing then. Most people never change, only the things they wear and use change. People did not need many of the old things. All kinds of things were being invented. New things were in demand. Technology had begun. The world was becoming more industrial. After a financial crisis, Sally’s husband and his family were nearly bankrupt. It was so important to maintain a standing. Her husband had a heart attack and died, and Sally had nowhere to go except back to Yoville. Her son Reginald was just finishing college and thinking of starting a family of his own. He planned to marry rich; he would be safe. Lenore was still in finishing school. Sally’s in-laws said they could continue helping their son’s daughter, but there was no place for a daughter-in-law with them at that time. Reginald said, “If it had been at any other time, Mother, I could help, but, you see, I have just started getting in this new family myself. I can’t have you coming in, also. It’s a bad time.” Besides, her children knew Sally had no money to leave as an inheritance.
They did not want her, so Sally struggled several years on her own as a governess or by keeping household accounts. But she was getting older and tired. Her spirit was breaking from the difficulties a lone, shy, inexperienced woman can have. She did not ask her father for help. He had told her to go back to Yoville, but at that time he no longer lived there himself. He had left Carlene there with her family. All their lives had drifted further apart.
Satan watched Sally, thoughtfully. He could not do much with one who gave him so little to work with. Satan wanted to see her return to Yoville … where Carlene ruled. He might at least make hate grow there. Satan is not able to pervert, he can only tempt.
chapter
15
in the meantime, after Sally left for school and married, Carlene had her daddy and Yoville all to herself. But through the years, Carl drank more than his usual social drinking and stayed away longer and longer on his business trips. When Carlene complained about his absences, he growled, “I’ve got to get away from this gawdforsaken place!” He wanted to be where there was more pleasure, more women, any place where every time he turned around Carlene would not be there. Sometimes she forced him to take her on a trip with him, saying, “It’s the only way for me to meet people and learn more about our businesses.” Most times he left her behind in Yoville or sent her somewhere else far away from him to visit one of her friends.
Carlene knew how to make herself attractive. She was young, healthy, energetic and gay when she was the center of attention. She had a few suitors who knew her father’s financial situation was excellent. After all, he was in steel, cotton, banking and, that big money-maker now, munitions. But no suitors were pleasing to Carlene. She wanted them to match her dollar for dollar. The men who could do that had their own choice of marriage partners or brides who were chosen by their families. In any event, they did not need to marry someone who was not totally pleasing to them as possible. Carlene’s mean, little ways did show, you know. In addition, Carlene wanted her husband, whoever he may be, to change HIS name to hers and become a Befoe. The men she might have accepted for social honor were more than satisfied with their own old, established names. Satan never worried about Carlene. He knew she would find some way to do something unkind or wrong.
Now, Carl Befoe had a brother Richard who had managed to marry a woman with a huge fortune inherited from her family. Richard and his wife, Marian, had one son, Richard junior. Young Richard was also of marriageable age. Carl arranged a visit for Carlene and himself. Smiling, he said, “This way we won’t have to change the names on anything we have.” Carlene threw back her head and laughed, happy to share a plot with her father.
but now, Carlene sat at her desk remembering those words and she did not laugh. She looked into the laughing face of her father in the picture she held. For the first time in her life she spoke these words to him, “You bastard. You ruined my life. You paid me back. You were a bastard.” Carlene picked up the coffee cup which was now cold. Even the coffee in the pot was cold. She didn’t feel like getting up to pull the bell for Minna. She looked at her father’s picture again. “You betrayed me in the end. You ruined my life.” Then she laid him on her desk, face down. The sound startled the spider who had dozed off as she waited in the dimness. Her bright, black eyes looked at Carlene and waited for whatever was next.
Carlene sighed as she placed her hand over her heart and reached for the picture of Richard. Uncle Richard. Her father-in-law, her uncle. Her mind traveled back to the days of that trip. She had been so excited to be going off with her father. The new clothes he urged on her, though she had never needed much convincing, his willingness to pay the huge sums. He had encouraged her to see more expensive hair specialists, even skin and body specialists, and had even sent her to New York with a chaperone, of course, to acquire all she needed. She learned things about makeup and beauty care she would use the rest of her life. When they finally left Yoville for their trip to Uncle Richard, she was bursting with happiness. It was like a piece of the sun had entered her and shone through her eyes. Carl was even happy. Carlene’s happiness was marred only a little when her father had to leave on business a few days after they arrived at his brother’s house.
Carlene was attractive with all her learned artifice. She needed to be admired, to be embraced and to touch, walk with and talk to someone who she knew cared about her, loved her.
Uncle Richard looked a great deal like his brother. It may
be said Carlene was not entirely responsible for what happened. She certainly did not intend for it to happen. But Uncle Richard was so attentive to her needs to make her stay comfortable. So gallant, so charming. Young Richard was reserved, even shy, although he liked Carlene and her worldliness.
Of course, Uncle had been, and still was when possible, a great womanizer. He loved the female sex. One morning, Richard the younger was unable to attend them because of some work he had to do for his father. Was it planned? Satan was always comfortable and amused with Richard the elder. Anyway, Uncle Richard and Carlene went horseback riding. They eventually stopped to rest and enjoy the surroundings at the end of a long, hard ride over his meadows and land filled with streams and hillocks and small, wild animals. They came to rest beside the lake the streams fed into. The morning was bright and clear. The grass was slightly damp but still soft and inviting. The trees moved gently with the breezes.
The two riders were damp with perspiration, healthy perspiration. Uncle took a small blanket from behind his saddle, spread it over the grass and smiled into Carlene’s eyes as he offered it to her with a wide sweep of his arm. She laughed and jumped down from her sidesaddle, unbuttoned her tight, fancy, riding jacket, pulled up her riding skirt a bit, knelt, then sprawled on her back, looking into the sky. She had no low intentions, was not trying to lure him, her uncle. But Satan passed by and saw an opportunity for confusion and possibly grief. Knowing his true subject, Richard the elder, Satan left behind his little suggestions and feelings that run through hearts and minds and stomachs. Thoughts that remove complications, that momentarily clear consciences. Satan knew Uncle Richard from the past.
Richard, puffing lightly from the exertion of riding early and long, took off his jacket and lay beside her. He reached for her hand, saying, “By gawd, my favorite niece! You are a woman of my heart!” They laughed together.
Somehow—isn’t it always “somehow?”—she held his arm, hugged him and lay her head on his shoulder. She whined, “I surely love you, Uncle Richard! You are so much fun! Why isn’t your son like you? He is so serious all the time!”
Richard lifted her head and put his arm around her shoulders, laughing. “He’s not so bad … What is it you want him to do?”
She spread her arms and legs innocently, looking up to the sky. She was not thinking about what she was doing, “Oh, I don’t know! Be more loving I guess. Play with me sometimes. Swim with me, walk with me more. Just not be so serious all the time.”
Richard pulled her to him, laughing like an uncle. “You mean you want him to hug you, don’t you?” He squeezed her tightly, playfully.
“Yes!” She moved her head back, chin to the sky, pouted, then giggled. “Yes!”
Uncle Richard raised his head and leaned over her. “And kiss you all over your sweet cheeks like this?” He demonstrated for her.
“Yes!” She squirmed and giggled in his arms. She felt safe.
“And your sweet lips!” He kissed her. “They want to be kissed, too!” And he did kiss them.
She could not answer, her lips were sealed. When he finally moved his head away from her lips, they laughed … a little. She rolled her eyes skyward. “He does not even touch me!”
Uncle Richard felt encouraged. “And when you say play with you, you mean chase you, wrestle you, touch you?” He began to tickle her.
She wriggled in his embrace, laughing. “Yes!” She could hardly speak, she was laughing so, and his kisses were all over her face. Her clothes were awry. In his fumbling, tickling, he had managed to raise her skirts above her knees. He could see her lovely new undergarments, white, ruffled with lace, clean and fresh, scented with delicious perfume and the natural scent of perspiration from a long ride and the warm, musky scent of the female.
He threw his leg over her and began a fresh burst of tickling over her neck, under her arms, over her breasts, around her waist. Lying on her now and again to kiss her lips or tickle her neck with his tongue. A million tongues it seemed he had! She began to kick and roll wildly, still laughing.
He raised his head to look around the lake. His land was huge, and no one was there. “Ho!” he laughed, “You are a tigress! So you want to kick your loving Uncle Richard!” He placed his knee between hers and lay his body over her, pressing his body, as if to make her lay still. She struggled, still laughing, still playing.
Soon her dress was around her waist. He was kissing her harder, seriously. His knees pressed hers apart. He raised his hips and his hands began to tickle her below her waist, firmly but gently. His hands were everywhere. Carlene still laughed breathlessly, but her eyes were bewildered, her body hesitant. When his hand cupped that part of her that she knew was her very, very private part, she gasped softly. She began to gently push him away. “No, no,” she murmured. In her mind she spoke to herself, “No, I don’t want him to do that!”
Her body had moistened. He laughed softly, then inserted his finger into the privacy of her body. “I bet you I can get another one in there.” He spoke with laughter into her mouth. “Go on, let’s see how strong you are. Get away from me, if you can!” His laughter made her relax a little, thinking this was still part of the playing, the game. But she knew you did not play games with your “privates.” Her maid at home called it that. But then he was inserting two fingers in there! And moving them slowly, lovingly. She was very wet now.
She raised her body high to throw him off. He was very heavy. He made a deft movement and, when she raised her body again, the greatest tickler of them all was no longer tickling but penetrating her young, virgin body. She knew she should scream, do something! Make him stop! But violent waves of something she had never felt before were filling and moving her body. Her legs opened of their own accord, against her will even. She did not stop him, did not scream. She raised her body to meet his; even with the pain, the joy was such that she did not want it to stop. Her last coherent thoughts were, “He is my uncle, I know he loves me.” She did not stop him. And the deed was done.
When it was over and done, he apologized. She cried. They both straightened their clothes. But he knew she had had an orgasm, and she knew, too. As they rode back to the mansion and the man she was supposed to marry, Carlene thought to herself, “Why couldn’t his father be the one I am to marry instead of the son?” He was thinking, “My son will have a virgin … good!”
As the wedding plans moved ahead, Uncle Richard had something for his son to take care of every morning while he and Carlene were horseback riding. Uncle Richard almost hated to see her leave. But all had been arranged, and the young Richard and Carlene were engaged. She was not sure what she wanted to do. She appeared nervous and anxious. Uncle Richard wondered why but did not seem to really care.
Three days before Carlene was to depart, he was reaching for her as she lay on the blanket at the top of their morning ride. It was a larger blanket now and they no longer stopped in the clearing by the lake. They were lost in the shadows of the beautiful, huge trees that covered much of his acreage. The grass was thicker and softer here.
She spoke to him softly through the thrills of their embrace. “Uncle Richard.” He continued his fumblings. “Uncle Richard!” She spoke, not with anger but with some urgency. He was not listening. “My monthly has not come.” He was listening at last.
“Your what?”
“My monthly … my curse.”
“You mean … Are you saying …” He took his arms from around her. “Do you mean to say … you are pregnant?”
“I mean I am something. Pregnant is a good word. With child, is another.”
He spoke very quietly. “Neither is a good word. Both are bad words. Have … you … been with my son … at all?”
She grew angry. “Oh course not!! What do you think I am?! I have been only with you! With you! It is you I love. Why, I can hardly stand it when you arrange for your son to be with me every evening, every night, every afternoon!”
Uncle Richard began to gather his clothes together, button
his shirt, brush his pants. It was instant distance. He spoke calmly, “Well, my dear, you better get busy on him.” Satan patted him on his back, smiled and moved on thinking, “This will take care of itself without my help.”
No one, except one who has experienced it, knows what it is like for the man who has made a baby in you to tell you to give it to someone else.
Carlene was deeply hurt. He did not want her! He wouldn’t stand up and fight the world to have her and their baby! Then she thought of her sweet and kind Aunt Marian. She thought, “Oh, to hell with her!” Then she thought of … her … father. Then herself again. She thought of money. Uncle Richard would no doubt be kind and good to her … but that was not the same kind of money that Carlene wanted for her life. The elder Richard’s money belonged to Marian, his wife.
She turned to Uncle Richard who was standing, ready to leave. “What must I do? Richard only walks with me, and we talk a little on our evening walks. He has pecked me on my cheek with his dry lips only three or four times in all these weeks! What must I do?!” She was almost in tears. Then she looked at him and realized he was preparing to leave. She grabbed his trouser bottoms and gripped them tightly. “Where are you going? Aren’t we …? Why are we leaving now, before …?”
Uncle Richard knelt and gently removed her hands, speaking softly to her. “I would never think of getting rid of the little one inside your virgin womb. It is, after all, my child. Let me think today. I will tell you later.”
In Search of Satisfaction Page 13
