He gave a few more instructions, but again, Betty barely heard what he was saying. She was still stuck on him being alive. She’d never thought otherwise, and that made her sick. Not throwing-up sick, but an all-consuming ache.
Henry walked her and Jane to their house, and he took ahold of her hand while Jane was climbing the trellis.
“I won’t let anything happen to any of you,” he whispered, and then waited as she climbed the trellis, entered the bathroom, and shut the window.
By the time she crawled into bed, she was a pitiful mess. She couldn’t get over that someone had stuffed him in a barrel. He could have died.
He could have been dead right now.
That was the most dreadful thought, the most dreadful reality, ever. She wished she could find the anger she’d had earlier, but she couldn’t. He hadn’t been looking for an excuse. She had been. She had been trying to forget him for over three years, ever since that first kiss, but couldn’t. That kiss had opened something inside her. A part of her she hadn’t known existed, and when she’d seen him again the night of the dance-off, she’d wanted that part of her to be opened again.
He had opened it, and it had felt so good, she’d been unable to stay away. It was as if she’d been wrapped in a cocoon like a caterpillar and he’d made her feel like a butterfly, free to spread her wings and fly.
Or like a moth, drawn to a light that blinded her, made her lose her way.
Either way, seeing him again tonight confirmed one thing. She’d never be able to forget him. A person couldn’t forget about someone they cared about, and she cared about him. Cared far more than she should. Cared too much about him to be angry. Much like she’d always cared too much about her sisters to be angry with them. Even Jane and her sneaking-out plan.
She hadn’t gotten angry. She’d found a way for Jane to get what she wanted, and Patsy, for them to have fun, because that was what she’d always done. That was what she needed to do with Henry, too.
Find a way so he could catch this Elkin man.
She’d been thrilled at the idea of helping him before, giving him the list of the speakeasies, but this time, she was scared, because now she realized that every time she saw Henry, she lost a little bit more of the person she’d always been.
Surprisingly, she slept well that night, and didn’t feel queasy upon waking. After getting dressed, she checked her calendar again, counted the days. Five. Had she jumped to conclusions? She was late by five days. That could happen. And something she ate could have upset her stomach.
Oddly, those thoughts didn’t elate her, which confused her even more.
As she sat at the quiet table, eating breakfast, she pondered if what she’d always thought she’d wanted was true. Patsy had wanted to be a reporter for years, and Jane, well, Jane had wanted to be a flapper. Fashion, music, independence. That was Jane.
Betty, sighed. Why didn’t she have any dreams like that? Hers had always been to have her own family. Her own house. It would be different than this; there would be conversation and laughter.
From who? James wasn’t an awful person, but his conversations weren’t overly lively. They were boring and long.
Had she thought she wanted those things, to get married and have children, because she’d never allowed herself to think otherwise? Why? Because she’d known that was the only option she’d have, just like following Father’s rules was the only option?
She didn’t like being this confused, and as soon as Father nodded the meal was over, she began to clear the table, but stopped when a knock sounded on the front door.
Visitors at their house were few and far between, and Father’s frown said he wasn’t expecting anyone.
He rose and walked down the hall to the front door.
A moment later, Betty froze in recognition of the voice that greeted her father.
The wide-eyed look on Jane’s face said she’d recognized Henry’s voice, too.
Before Betty made it out of the dining room, Henry was following her father into his office and nodded at her before he shut the door.
He was wearing a black suit, and carrying a black hat in his hands, which made him look official. Very official.
Her insides turned cold, icy, but her hands were hot, sweating, as a thousand thoughts rushed to be the first to assault her. But there were too many, they clambered together. She didn’t know if she should run and hide, or—
“We’re doomed,” Jane whispered. “If he tells Father, we’re doomed.”
Betty couldn’t let that happen. She handed Jane the plates she’d lifted off the table right before the knock had sounded and, head up, walked down the hallway.
She didn’t knock, just opened the door and stepped in. She quivered slightly at how the look on her father’s face indicated he wasn’t impressed by her actions, but then instantly looked at Henry.
Henry gave her a slight grin while asking Father, “Is this your daughter?”
“Yes, yes, it is,” Father replied.
Henry gave her a slight nod. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Dryer. I was just informing your father that I work for the government and that we are interested in preparing a house we own for sale. It needs to be cleaned and I was informed that you clean the houses in this area prior to the new owners taking occupancy.”
Confused, she shook her head.
Henry nodded. “I would like to hire you to clean the property we are interested in putting up for sale. An abandoned house just a short distance from here.”
His nearness did what it always did, opened that part of her that was impossible for her to control. She took a deep breath and nodded, fully aware of the house he referred to and
