She’d even fought with Father this morning, refused to be the one to take Mother shopping as scheduled. It had been foolish, but she’d been thinking about what happened with Henry last night, how she’d been brave enough to take what she’d wanted. She’d wanted to be brave enough to have that happen elsewhere, too.
It hadn’t. She’d ended up driving Mother, which made her angrier at how she’d given in, been forced to give in and follow orders like she had her entire life.
She’d just climbed down the trellis when she heard a faint whistle from above. It was Jane, holding a hand out the window, with a single finger raised.
Betty’s insides shook from head to toe. That could mean wait a minute, or it could mean for her to stay right where she was because someone was coming. The light was still on in Father’s office and she sincerely hoped that meant he was still in it.
Relief washed over her as Jane climbed out the window a short time later and then scurried down the trellis.
“This is dangerous,” Jane hissed. “No one has gone to bed yet.”
Betty pressed a finger to her lips and then ran across the yard to the trees.
Jane followed, and as soon as they were on the road, she said again, “This is crazy! What if Mother or Father goes upstairs?”
“If that happens, we’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Betty said, half walking and half running along the road.
“Horsefeathers,” Jane said. “What’s so important about going out tonight?”
Betty would love to tell her sister. Love to tell her everything. Including the tunnel they could take that would get them to the Rooster’s Nest faster than the trolley. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell Jane anything.
“What if Patsy needs us?”
“To do what?” Betty asked. “There’s nothing we can do.” Another real fear was living in her mind. “Don’t you realize this could be our last night? After what happened with Patsy today, bringing Lane home, we all could be locked in our rooms for the rest of our lives.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I have,” Betty answered as they entered the yard of the house. “I most certainly have.” She tried not to look at the abandoned house, but couldn’t keep from doing so, wondering if Henry was inside, watching them.
Whether he was or not, he’d be at the Rooster’s Nest, waiting for her. She was late, by almost an hour, but he’d wait. She was sure of that.
That thought alone helped erase some of her anger and frustration.
For a short time.
Because Henry wasn’t at the Rooster’s Nest. She even snuck into the storage room and pulled the shelf away from the wall, but the door was locked, so she couldn’t get to the tunnel.
She waited, sat at their table, until Jane insisted if they didn’t leave, they’d miss the trolley. Fighting tears the entire way, she knew what she had to do even before she and Jane climbed the trellis.
It felt like an eternity before her sisters were finally in their beds, asleep. She then left her room and quickly hurried into the bathroom and out the window.
The front door of the abandoned house was unlocked. Her heart skipped a beat as she hoped that meant Henry was here. Using the light of the flashlight, she made her way into the basement.
It was empty.
She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse. Either way, her heart sat heavy in her chest as she made her way back home.
There, lying in bed, she cried, convinced something awful had to have happened to him.
She continued to worry for several days, but then she knew the truth.
Henry was gone. She’d searched for him every night, taking chances at sneaking out earlier than usual and visiting places not on her list, but he wasn’t to be found.
Reality happened almost two weeks later, the night Lane and Patsy came home and said that Vincent Burrows had been arrested. The case was solved.
Betty cried that night like she’d never cried before, her heart was completely broken, and she knew she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who’d broken the rules. Rules that had been put in place for good reason.
She wanted to hate Henry, but she couldn’t. He’d kept the only promise he’d ever made to her. He’d never told her father about them sneaking out. Furthermore, he’d given her the opportunity to be someone she wasn’t, and that had made her understand who she had to be.
Betty Dryer. A person who obeys the rules, because not obeying them leads to hurt and pain and loss.
The following morning, when her father requested her presence in his office, and stated that James would be over that evening to take her out, Betty kept her head up and agreed, knowing this was her life, this was who she was.
“Horsefeathers!” Jane said that evening while pacing the floor of Betty’s room. “You don’t have to go out with him! The fact that Father is allowing Patsy to marry Lane means things could be different for us!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Betty said, draping a white shawl around her shoulders and over her ankle-length gray dress with its dropped waistline.
“Yes, it does!” Jane insisted, throwing her arms in the air. “What’s gotten into you lately? You don’t even want to sneak out with me anymore.”
“I went out with you last night,” Betty said, picking up her white purse.
Jane huffed out a breath. “Only to make sure I don’t break any of your rules.”
Betty held her tongue; she had been more watchful of Jane on their nightly excursions. Actually, that was the only reason she went out—to keep an eye on Jane. And to scan the occupants. There was a flicker of hope inside her that she just couldn’t blow out, the thought that one day she might
