The Story of RINA MARLOWE 2 page

Dandy Jim smiled. "Did I ever tell you I met your father?"

Marlowe smiled back. "No, you didn't. But my father often mentioned it. He told me many times how he threw you out of his office."

Dandy Jim nodded. "That's true. Your father has a wild temper. One would almost take him for an Irishman. And all I did was ask him for a small campaign contribution. That was about twenty years ago. I was running for City Council then. Do you know what he said to me then?"

Marlowe shook his head.

"He swore that if ever I was so much as elected to the post of dog-catcher, he'd take his family and move out." Dandy Jim was smiling. "He won't like it when he hears you've contributed to my campaign fund."

Marlowe stood his ground. "My father is my father and I respect him very much," he said, "but what I do with my money and my politics is my concern, not his."

"You have other children?" Dandy Jim asked.

"A boy," Geraldine answered quickly. "Laddie is eight."

Dandy Jim smiled. "I don't know," he said. "Someday women will have the vote and if that little girl is brought up on the hill, that's one vote I may never get."

"I promise you this, Mr. Mayor," Geraldine said quickly. "If that day ever comes, the women of my household will always vote for you!"

Dandy Jim's smile grew broader. He made a courtly bow. "It is a weakness of politicians to always be making deals."

The next day, Timothy Kelly, the mayor's secretary, appeared at Marlowe's office in the bank and picked up a check for five hundred dollars. He suggested that Marlowe talk to a certain judge in the municipal court.

It was there the adoption was made. Quickly, quietly and legally. When Marlowe departed the judge's chambers, he left with the judge a birth certificate for one white female child named Katrina Osterlaag.

In his pocket was a birth certificate in the name of his daughter, Rina Marlowe.

UNDERNEATH THE OVERSIZED UMBRELLA PLANTED in the sand, Geraldine Marlowe sat in a canvas chair, her parasol at her side. Slowly she moved her fan back and forth.

"I can't remember a summer as hot as this," she said breathlessly. "It must be over ninety here in the shade."

Her husband grunted from the chair next to hers, his head still immersed in the Boston newspaper, which arrived on the Cape one day late.

"What did you say. Harry?"

He folded his paper and looked at his wife. "That Wilson's a damn fool!"

Geraldine was still looking at the ocean. "What makes you say that, dear?"

He tapped the paper vigorously. "That League of Nations thing. Now he says he's going to Europe and see to it that peace is insured."

Geraldine looked at him. "I think that's a wonderful idea," she said mildly. "After all, we were lucky this time. Laddie was too young to go. The next time, it may be different."

He snorted again. "There won't be a next time. Germany is through forever. Besides, what can they do to us? They're on the other side of the ocean. We can just sit back and let them kill each other off if they want to start another war."

Geraldine shrugged her shoulders. "You better move in closer under the umbrella, dear," she said. "You know how red you get in the sun."

Harrison Marlowe got up and moved his chair farther under the umbrella. He settled back in the chair with a sigh and buried himself in the newspaper once more.

Rina appeared suddenly in front of her mother. "It's been an hour since I had lunch, Mother," she said. "Can I go into the water now?"

"May I," Geraldine corrected automatically. She looked at Rina. She had grown up this summer. It was hard to believe she was only thirteen.

She was tall for her age, almost five three, only one inch shorter than Laddie, who was three years older. Her hair was bleached completely white from the sun and her skin was deeply tanned, so dark that her almond-shaped eyes seemed light by comparison. Her legs were long and graceful, her hips just beginning to round a little and her breasts came full and round against her little girl's bathing suit, more like a sixteen-year-old's.

"May I, Mother?" Rina asked.

"You may," Geraldine nodded. "But be careful, dear, don't swim too far out. I don't want you to tire yourself."

But Rina was already gone. Geraldine Marlowe half smiled to herself. Rina was like that; she was like none of the other girls Geraldine knew. Rina didn't play like a girl. She could swim and outrun any of the boys that Laddie played with and they knew it. She didn't pretend to be afraid of the water or hide from the sun. She just didn't care whether her skin was soft and white.

Harrison Marlowe looked up from his paper. "I have to go up to the city tomorrow. We're closing the Standish loan."

"Yes, dear." The faint, shrill voices of the children floated lazily back toward them. "We'll have to do something about Rina," she said thoughtfully.

"Rina?" he questioned. "What about Rina?"

She turned to him. "Haven't you noticed? Our little girl's growing up."

He cleared his throat. "Umm — yes. But she's still a baby."

Geraldine Marlowe smiled. It was true what they said about fathers. They spoke more about their sons but secretly they delighted in their daughters. "She's become a woman in the past year," she said.

His face flushed and he looked down at his paper. In a vague way, he had realized it, but this was the first time they had spoken about it openly. He looked toward the water, trying to find Rina in the screaming, splashing crowd. "Don't you think we ought to call her back? It's dangerous for her to be so far out in the deep water."

Geraldine smiled at him. Poor Harrison. She could read him like a book. It wasn't the water he was afraid of, it was the boys. She shook her head. "No. She's perfectly safe out there. She can swim like a fish."

His embarrassed gaze met her own. "Don't you think you ought to have a little talk with her? Maybe explain some things to her. You know, like I did with Laddie two years ago?"

Geraldine's smile turned mischievous. She loved to see her husband, who was usually so sure of himself, positive about his tiniest conviction, flounder around like this. "Don't be silly, Harry." She laughed. "There's nothing I have to explain to her now. When a thing like that happens, it's just natural to tell her everything she should know."

"Oh," he said in a relieved voice.

She turned thoughtful again. "I think Rina's going to be one of those lucky children who make the transition from adolescence without any of the embarrassing stages," she said. "There's not the slightest trace of gawkiness about her and her skin is as clear as a bell. Not a sign of a blemish or a pimple. Not like Laddie at all."

She turned back toward the ocean. "Just the same, I think we'd better do something about Rina. I’d better get her some brassières."

Marlowe didn't speak.

She turned to him again. "I honestly think her bust is as large as mine already, I do hope it doesn't get too big. She's going to be a very beautiful girl."

He smiled slowly. "Why shouldn't she be?"

She reached for his hand, quietly returning his smile. They both knew what he meant. Neither of them ever thought of Rina as anything but their own natural child.

"Would you mind very much if I came into town with you tonight?" she asked softly. "It would be nice to stay in a hotel for one evening."

He pressed her hand. "I think it would be very nice."

"Molly could look after the children," she said. "And I’d have time to do a little shopping tomorrow before we return."

He looked at her and grinned. "I agree with you," he said in a mock-solemn voice. "The cottage down here is a little crowded. I'll call the hotel and make sure they have a shakerful of Martinis waiting for us the moment we arrive."

She dropped his hand. "You lecher!" she exclaimed, laughing.

Rina swam with easy, purposeful strokes, her eyes fixed on the diving raft out past the rolling surf. Laddie should be out there with his friend Tommy Randall. She came up out of the water almost at their feet. The boys were stretched out on their backs, faces up to the sun, and they sat up as Rina began to climb the ladder.

Laddie's face showed his annoyance at her invasion of their sanctum. "Why don't you stay back there with the girls?"

"I've got as much right out here as you have," she retorted, after catching her breath, straightening the shoulder straps of her too-small bathing suit.

"Aw, go on," Tommy said, looking up. "Let her stay."

Rina glanced at him swiftly from the corners of her eyes and saw his gaze fixed on her partly revealed breasts. It was at that exact moment that she began to turn into a woman.

Now even Laddie was staring at her with a curious look she had never before noticed in his eyes. Instinctively she let her hands fall to her sides. If that was all it took to make them accept her, let them look. She sat down opposite them, still feeling their gaze on her.

A dull ache began to throb in her breasts and she looked down at herself. Her nipples were clearly limned against the black jersey of her bathing suit. She looked up again at the boys. They were staring at her quite openly now.

"What are you looking at?"

The two boys exchanged quick, embarrassed glances and immediately looked away. Tommy fixed his eyes out over the water and Laddie looked down at the raft.

She stared at Laddie. "Well?"

The red flush crept up from Laddie's throat.

"I saw you. You both were looking at my chest!" she said accusingly.

The boys again exchanged quick glances. Laddie got to his feet. "Come on, Tommy," he said. "It's getting too crowded out here!"

He dove from the raft and a moment later, his friend followed. Rina watched them swimming toward the shore for a moment, then stretched back on the raft and stared up into the bright sky. Boys were strange creatures, she thought.

The tight bathing suit cut into her breasts. She shrugged her shoulders and her breasts leaped free of the encumbering suit. She looked down at herself.

They were white against the dark tan of her arms and throat and the nipples were flushed and pink and fuller than she had ever seen them before. Tentatively she touched them with her fingertips. They were hard as tiny pebbles and a warm, pleasant kind of pain flashed through them.

The warmth of the sun began to fill them with a sweet, gentle ache. Slowly she began to massage the ache away and gradually the warmth spilled from her breasts down into her body. She felt herself go hazy with a contentment she had never known before.

RINA STOOD IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR AND ADJUSTED the straps on the brassière. She took a deep breath. She turned to her mother, sitting on the bed behind her.

"There, Mother," she said proudly. "How does it look?"

Geraldine looked at her daughter doubtfully. "Perhaps if you moved it to the last hook," she said hesitantly and delicately.

"I tried, Mother," Rina answered. "But I can't wear it like that. It cuts into me."

Geraldine nodded. Next time, she would get a larger size but who ever would have thought a thirty-four would be so tight on such a slender frame?

Rina turned back to the mirror and looked at herself with satisfaction. Now she was beginning to look outside more like she felt inside. She noticed her mother watching her in the mirror.

"Do you think I could get some new bathing suits too, Mother?" she asked. "The ones I have are too small for me."

"I was just thinking that," her mother answered. "And some new dresses, too. Maybe Daddy will drive us down to Hyannis Port after breakfast."

Rina flashed a happy grin and ran to her mother. She threw her arms around her. "Oh, thank you, Mother!" she cried happily.

Geraldine drew Rina's head down to her breast. She kissed the top of the white-blond head and turned the child's tanned face up to hers. She looked down into Rina's eyes, her fingers lightly stroking her daughter's cheek. "What is happening to my little girl?" she asked almost sadly.

Rina caught her mother's hand and kissed her open palm. "Nothing, Mother," she said with the sureness and confidence that was to become an integral part of her. "Nothing but what you told me. I’m growing up."

Geraldine looked down into her daughter's face. A sudden mist came into her eyes.

"Don't be in too much of a hurry, my baby," she said, pressing Rina's head closely to her bosom. "We have too few years for childhood."

But Rina scarcely heard her. And if she had, it was doubtful that the words would carry any meaning. For they were only words and words were as futile against the strong forces awakening inside her as the waves breaking fruitlessly against the shore outside the window.

Laddie turned and swiftly threw the ball to first base. The runner spun and slid back toward safety, his heels kicking up a fine spray of dust. When the dust cleared, they could hear the umpire call, "Yer out!" and the game was over.

The boys clustered about him, pounding his back happily. "Swell game, Laddie!" "Good pitching!" Then they dispersed and he and Tommy were alone, threading their way back to the beach.

"What yuh doin' this afternoon?" Tommy asked.

Laddie shrugged his shoulders. "Nothin'." He was still thinking about that wild pitch that Mahoney hit for a home run. He should never have let the ball get away from him like that. He had to do better if he wanted to make the varsity team at Barrington the next spring. He made up his mind to spend an hour every afternoon pitching into a barrel. They said that was how Walter Johnson had developed his control.

"The Bijou's got a new Hoot Gibson picture," Tommy said.

"I saw it back in Boston." Laddie looked at his friend. "When's Joan coming down again?"

"My cousin?" Tommy asked.

"Yuh know anyone else by that name?" Laddie asked sarcastically.

"Maybe this weekend," Tommy answered.

"Then maybe we'll take her to the movies." Laddie said.

"Big deal!" Tommy snorted. "It's O.K. for you but what about me? It’s no fun sitting next to you and watching you cop feels. Who'm I goin’ to take?"

"I don't know," Laddie answered.

Tommy walked along for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "I got it!" he said excitedly.

"Who?"

"Your sister. Rina."

"Rina?" Laddie said. "She's just a kid."

Tommy laughed. "She ain't such a kid. They're really poppin' out on her. They look even bigger lately than when we seen 'em on the raft a couple weeks ago."

"But she's only thirteen," Laddie said.

"My cousin Joan's only fourteen now. She was thirteen last summer when you were nuzzlin' her on the back porch."

Laddie looked at him. Maybe Tommy was right. Rina was growing up. He shrugged his shoulders. "O.K.," he said finally. "You ask her. It won't do any good, though. I don't think my mother will let her go."

"She will if you ask her," Tommy said surely.

"I’m goin' in to shower an' put on my suit," Laddie said. "I’ll meet yuh on the beach."

"O.K.," Tommy answered. "See yuh."

The cottage was cool and silent after the heat and noise at the game. Slowly Laddie walked through to the kitchen. "Molly?" he called.

There was no answer and he remembered it was Thursday, Molly's day off. He heard a noise upstairs and walked over to the staircase. "Mother?"

Rina's voice came down to him. "They drove down to Hyannis Port to have dinner with some people."

"Oh," he said. He went back into the kitchen and opened the icebox. He took out a bottle of milk and a piece of chocolate cake and put them on the table. He drank the milk from the bottle and ate the cake with his fingers. It wasn't until after he had finished that he remembered he'd promised himself he wouldn't touch any sweets in hopes that his skin would clear up.

He sat there in a kind of lethargy. He heard the bathroom door slam and footsteps leading back to Rina's room. Idly he wondered what she was doing home at this time of the afternoon. Usually she was down at the beach already with her giggling bunch of silly girl friends.

Maybe Tommy was right. She was growing up. Certainly the way she brazenly sat there on the raft with her boobs half hanging out and letting them goggle at her didn't make her seem like a kid. Tommy was right about one thing, though. They were bigger than his cousin's.

A picture of Rina sitting on the raft flashed through his mind: the way she looked at them while they looked at her; her hair falling wet and straight to her shoulders, her lower lip pouting and kind of heavy.

He felt a familiar heat surge through him. He half groaned aloud. Oh, no, not again. He'd promised himself after the last time, he'd stop. He got to his feet abruptly. He wouldn't do it this time. He picked up the empty plate and put it in the sink, then walked out of the kitchen and started up the stairs. He'd grab a cold shower and then beat it out to the beach.

Rina's room was opposite the head of the staircase and the door was partly open. He was almost halfway up when the light spilling from her room caught his eye. There was a movement inside the room and he stopped on the staircase, his heart pounding. Slowly he sank to his knees so that only his eyes were above the top of the landing.

Rina had just crossed the room and was standing in front of the mirror, her back to the door, clad only in a brassière and a pair of bloomers. While he watched, she reached behind her and unfastened the brassière, then, half turning, stepped out of the bloomers. Holding them in her hand, she crossed the room and came back in a moment, carrying a bathing suit. She paused again in front of the mirror and stepped into the suit. Slowly she pulled it up over her breasts and straightened the shoulder straps.

He felt faint beads of perspiration across his forehead. This was the first time he had ever seen a grown-up girl completely naked. He had never thought they could be so beautiful and exciting.

Walking quietly, he passed her room and went into his own. He closed the door and sank, still trembling, to the bed. For a long moment, he sat there, the pain of the heat surging inside him bending him almost double.

Slowly he reasoned with himself. No. He mustn't. Not again. If he gave in to it now, he would always give in to it. At last, he began to feel better. He wiped his forehead with his arm and got to his feet.

All you needed was a little self-control and determination. He began to feel proud of himself. What he had to do was remove himself from all kinds of temptation. That meant everything. Even the French pictures he had bought from the candy store down in Lobstertown.

Quickly he opened a dresser drawer and burrowing underneath a broken slat, came out with the pictures. He placed them on the dresser drawer face down. He wouldn't even look at them one last time. He'd flush them down the toilet when he went in to take his shower.

He undressed rapidly and put on his bathrobe. He walked back to the dresser and caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. It was filled with a noble resolve. It was amazing how quickly resolution could reflect itself. He turned and left the room, forgetting the pictures that lay on the dresser.

He was drying himself in front of the mirror when he heard her footsteps turn down the hall to his room. Suddenly, he froze as he remembered. The pictures were still on the dresser. He grabbed for the bathrobe on the door behind him.

It was too late. When he got to his room, she was standing near the dresser, the pictures in her hand. She looked up at him in surprise. "Laddie, where did you get these pictures?" she asked, a curious excitement in her voice.

"Give them to me!" he demanded, walking toward her.

"I will not!" she retorted, turning her back to him. "I haven't finished looking at them yet."

Lithely she spun away from his outstretched hand, across the room to the far side of the bed. "Let me finish," she said calmly. "Then you can have them back."

"No!" he shouted hoarsely, flinging himself across the bed at her.

She turned to avoid his grasp but his hand caught her shoulder. The pictures flew from her hand as she fell to the bed beside him. She reached for the pictures. His hand caught at her shoulder strap to keep her from getting them, and the strap broke in his hand. He froze suddenly, staring at one white breast that had escaped the bathing suit.

"You broke my strap," she said quietly, making no move to cover herself, her eyes watching his face.

He didn't answer.

She smiled slowly and raised her hand to her breast, rubbing her palm gently across the nipple. "I'm just as pretty as any of the girls in those pictures, aren't I?"

He was fascinated, unable to speak, his eyes following the deliberate movement of her hand. "Aren't I?" she asked again. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone. Why do you think I let you watch while I was undressing?"

"You knew I was watching?" he asked in surprise.

She laughed. "Of course, stupid. I could see you in the mirror. I almost burst out laughing. I thought your eyes would pop out of your head."

He could feel the tension begin to build up inside him. "I don't think that's funny."

"Look at me," she said. "I like you to look at me. I wish everybody could."

"That's not right," he said.

"Why isn't it?" she demanded. "What's wrong with it? I like to look at you, why shouldn't you look at me?"

"But you never did," he said quickly.

A secret smile came to her lips. "Oh, yes I did."

"You did? When?"

"The other afternoon when you came back from the beach. There was no one home and I watched you through the bathroom window. I saw everything you did."

"Everything?" The word escaped from him in a groan of dismay.

"Everything," she said smugly. "You were exercising your muscle." Her eyes looked into his. "I never knew it could get so big. I always thought it was little and kind of droopy like it was when you were a little boy."

There was a tightness in his throat and he could hardly speak. He began to get up from the bed. "I think you better get out of here," he said hoarsely.

She looked up at him, still smiling. "Would you like to look at me again?"

He didn't answer.

Her hand reached up and took down the other shoulder strap. She wriggled out of her bathing suit. He stared down at her naked body, feeling his legs begin to tremble. He saw her eyes move down over him. His bathrobe hung open. He looked at her again.

"Now take off your bathrobe and let me see all of you," she said.

As if in a daze, he let the bathrobe slip to the floor. With a groan, he sank to his knees beside the bed, holding himself.

Quickly she rolled across the bed and looked down at him. A faint sound of triumph came into her voice. "Now," she said, "you can do it for me."

His hand reached up to touch her breast. She let it rest there for a moment, then suddenly moved away from him. "No!" she said sharply. "Don't touch me!"

He stared at her dumbly, the agony pouring through him in waves.

Her heavy-lidded eyes watched him.

"Do it for me," she said in a husky voice. "And I’ll do it for you. But don't touch me!"

ALL THROUGH THE MOVIE, LADDIE COULD HEAR THEM giggling and whispering. He could imagine what they were doing in the darkened theater, even though he couldn't see. His mind flamed with visions.

Now Tommy was offering Rina a gumdrop. He could see him casually holding the bag toward her, the back of his hand seemingly accidentally pressing against her breast. Laddie shifted restlessly in his seat, trying to pierce the dark out of the corner of his eye, but it was a waste of time. He couldn't see anything.

"May I have some candy?" Joan's voice came from the darkness.

"What?" he asked, startled for a moment. "Yeah. Sure." He held the bag toward her.

She turned as she helped herself from the bag and he felt the soft press of her breasts. But it served only to remind him of Rina. He sank back into his seat unhappily.

They stopped in front of Tommy's cottage on the way home. "How about some pop?" Joan asked. "We've got a big bottle in the icebox."

Laddie shook his head. "No, thanks," he said quickly. "It's almost eight o'clock and I promised Mother we'd be home before dark."

Rina didn't say anything.

"Maybe you could come over later?" Joan asked. "After you've taken Rina home?"

Rina looked at him. He flushed. "I don't think so," he answered. "I’m pretty tired. I wanted to get to bed early."

Joan shot a curious look at him, then silently turned and walked into the cottage. There was an awkward moment until Tommy spoke. "Well, good night, then," he said. "See yuh on the beach tomorrow."

They walked the rest of the way home in silence. It was already dark when they climbed up the steps to the porch. He opened the screen door and held it for her.

She started to enter the house, then stopped when she saw he made no move to follow her. "Aren't you coming in?"

He shook his head. "Not right now. I think I’ll stay out for a little while."

"I think I will, too," she said quickly, stepping back onto the porch.

He let the screen door swing shut. Its clatter echoed through the house. "Is that you, children?" Geraldine Marlowe called.

"Yes, Mother," Rina answered. She glanced quickly at Laddie. "Can we stay outside for a little while, Mother? It's so hot tonight."

"All right. But only for half an hour, Rina. I want you in bed by eight thirty."

"O.K., Mother."

Laddie crossed the porch and sat down on the large wicker chaise. Rina followed and sat down beside him. "Why did Joan want you to come back?" she asked suddenly.

He didn't look at her. "I dunno."

"Did she want you to do it for her?"

"Of course not!" he said indignantly.

"I don't like Joan," she said suddenly. "She's a— she's a hyp— a hypo— "

"A hypocrite." He supplied the word for her, surprised by the unexpected depth of her perception. "What makes you say that?"

"Tommy wanted me to touch him in the movies, but when I wouldn't, he took Joan's hand and she did."

"No!" The word escaped him involuntarily. Rina was right. The little bitch was a hypocrite.

"And she never even looked at him once," Rina continued. "She was always looking at the screen and once she even asked you for some candy."

He stared at her wonderingly.

"I wonder if they're doing it now," she said thoughtfully.

A picture of Joan and Tommy flashed through his mind. He began to get excited.

"I’m not a hypocrite, am I?" she asked. A slow smile came to her lips. She moved and he felt her fingers brush across his thigh. She looked into his face. "Would you like to do it now?" she whispered.

"Now?" he said in a stunned voice. He glanced over his shoulder back to the house.

"They won't come out," she said quietly. "Father is reading his newspaper and Mother is knitting. I saw them through the doorway."

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 677