It was after ten at night, and not a single light shone in any of the windows of the Dryer house. That could mean Betty was sleeping, or it could mean she was out with her sister, visiting a joint. Lane had said she was fine, that they were all fine, but Henry needed to see for himself. Now. Tonight, and had already concluded this was where he’d start. Her house.
If she wasn’t here, he’d have two choices. To wait or start searching speakeasies. He had a feeling that after the harrowing event with Elkin, she wouldn’t want to go out, but Jane would, and Betty was committed to her younger sisters.
He also knew which room was hers.
The trellis creaked, but held beneath his weight, and the bathroom window was open, which could mean they were gone and he’d be waiting for two hours, or that she was home, and he had to be careful to not startle a scream out of her upon entering her room.
He’d never thought he’d be doing this, sneaking into her bedroom, but he’d never thought many of the things that had happened since meeting her would ever have happened to him.
He wished things could be different, but today had proven they never could be. His job, his life, was too dangerous. He’d never been so afraid, so worried, that someone would be injured as he had been today.
He’d walk away a different man than when he’d arrived, that was a given. He hadn’t had any defense to prevent that from happening. He hadn’t known it had been happening. Due in part to denial, and the other part, her. She’d changed him with little more than a smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
A smile and a twinkle he’d never forget.
Without making a sound, he snuck out of the bathroom and into the hall, where he paused briefly, listening. As the silence echoed in his ears, he made his way to her bedroom door and tried the knob.
It turned, and the moment the door opened, he knew she was in the room. Every part of his body came to life like a match struck on a shoe bottom. That was another thing he’d never experienced. That instant feeling of completion. Of being whole. It was hard to describe, even to himself, how he didn’t feel as if something was missing in his life when she was nearby.
He closed the door and crossed the room, to her bed. Moonlight shone through the window, highlighting her hair as she lay on one side, her cheek upon the pillow.
Asleep, she was as enchanting as she was while awake and he could stand here, simply staring at her for hours.
“Hello, Henry.”
“Hello,” he whispered in return, amazed at how happy the simple sound of her voice made him.
She rolled onto her back, then sat up, pulling the blankets up beneath her chin. “What are you doing here?”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Checking on you.” He touched her hand. “How are you?”
“Fine. Did you get all the evidence you need on Elkin?”
“Yes. He’ll be in jail for many, many years.”
She smiled. “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry for what happened. I would never have called Patsy, never have—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “I know. Lane told us that it was Elkin who called the newspaper and left that message.” She removed her finger and touched his cheek before letting her hand fall. “When are you leaving?”
His stomach clenched. Despite knowing what had to happen, it hurt. Leaving hurt worse than anything he’d known. “In a few days.” It just wasn’t his job, the oath he’d taken, or how he owed John Randall for giving him an education and career, it was him. He didn’t know how to love the way she deserved to be loved and was too old to learn.
She nodded and pinched her lips together.
The tears glistening in her eyes saddened him. “I’ll see you—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t see you again, Henry. I wish I could, but I can’t.” She sniffled. “Saying goodbye to you is so hard, but that’s what I’m doing, saying goodbye.” She lifted her chin. It trembled. “You need to go take Elkin to Washington, DC, and then go on to your next assignment. Keep being an FBI agent, because you are a very, very good one. You saved all our lives today, without blinking an eye. The Bureau needs you. Our country needs you.”
It felt as if his heart was being torn out of his chest and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it because he couldn’t change the truth, couldn’t change what was. His eyes hadn’t stung like they were right now since he’d been a small, small child.
Tears streamed down her face. He wiped one of her cheeks with his thumb. “Betty, maybe—”
“No, Henry, this is goodbye,” she whispered. “It has to be.”
Anger, frustration, and more sorrow than he’d ever known filled him, forced him to blink harder, faster, and look away from her. He had to do that in order to remember, to admit, she was right.
The pain inside him grew. Got darker. Uglier. He didn’t bother to work out how it was all directed at him.
Didn’t need to.
Betty had thought about this all day, what she was going to do, and knew the conclusion she’d come to was the right one. She couldn’t think about herself, her heart; she had to think about the life growing inside her and how everything she did, from this moment on, was for the baby. If it was just her, she’d live out of a single suitcase for the rest of her life if that was what it took to be with Henry. But it wasn’t just her, she had the baby to think about. That was her main concern now. Had to be.
She swallowed the sob filling her throat. “Will you kiss me one last time? Hug me one last time?”
His arms were around her so fast, held her so tight, she nearly cried out at the pain of knowing she’d never know such splendor again. He kissed her then, and she kissed him in return. One final time.
She would have gone on kissing him, but knew it would only prolong the inevitable, so she broke the kiss and pushed him away. “Goodbye, Henry.” Then, because she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to keep from stopping him, she flipped onto her side and pulled the covers over her head.
Just as she had known the moment he’d entered her room, she knew the moment he left it. Silently. The exact same way he’d entered her heart that day on the beach in Seattle. He wasn’t to blame for that. She wasn’t either. She hadn’t had any control over how her heart had fallen in love with him that day. How it would forever love him because she didn’t have any control over changing it. Her heart had a mind of its own, and once it had fallen in love with him, there had been nothing she could do about it.
The tears fell faster, harder, and she curled into a ball at the pain consuming her. The very pain she would have to learn to live with the rest of her life.
The pain was still there when she crawled out of bed the next morning, got dressed, and went downstairs.
Father was sitting at the table, reading the paper, as usual. Henry had been right about so many things. Her father was strict, stern, so he could get what he wanted while deceiving all of them.
It was time for him to know he’d taught her well. “Good morning, Father,” she said, calm and matter-of-fact. That was how her life would be from now on. Matter-of-fact. “Please tell James to meet me at the courthouse at nine o’clock this morning. Both persons must be present to apply for a marriage license.”
The sounds of breaking china reverberated into the room. Betty kept her chin up as she looked toward the doorway. Jane stood there, mouth agape and a pile of broken dishes at her feet.
Father had lowered his newspaper at the sound of dishes breaking and glowered toward the kitchen. “I’m not scheduled to see James this morning.”
Betty held in the emotions rippling her insides. “Is he building a house or not?”
“Yes,” Father barked. “He’s waiting on materials.” He snapped his paper back up before his face. “We’ll discuss this after breakfast. Go help your sister and mother.”
“No.” It hurt to be so cold, so uncaring, but that was who she had to be. “They don’t need my help, and we will discuss this now. You are the one who wants me to marry James as soon as possible, so I will. There is a five-day waiting period. Then there will be a wedding.”
Father slapped his newspaper onto the table as Mother rushed into the room.
“Five days!” Mother exclaimed, clearly flustered. “Darling, that’s not possible. We don’t even have your dress yet.”
“I’ll wear one I already own,” Betty replied.
“No, you won’t, and there’s more than that. There’s the guests and—”
“Guests?” Betty huffed out a half chuckle, half sob. “I don’t have any friends.”
“That’s not true,” Mother said. “The church was full for Patsy’s wedding.”
“Because she married Lane. The church was full of his friends.” Betty shrugged. “If James has friends, he can invite them. Or not. I don’t care.”
“Betty Louise!” Mother exclaimed. “What has gotten into you?”
The truth. The blatant truth. “Nothing has gotten into me,” she answered. “This is merely my life.”
“Now, see here!” Father shouted. “You will not talk to your mother like that!”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Should I lie to her instead? Lock myself behind a gate?”
His eyes widened.
She didn’t so much as blink. “Like father, like daughter.”
He squirmed, slightly, but she saw it. Maybe she’d been wrong. She could break a rule when Henry wasn’t near.
“One more thing, those materials James is waiting on, I do hope they will be up to the building code standard.”
“Betty?” Mother had her hands pressed to her breastbone. “What are you talking about?”
“Father knows.” She’d said all she was going to say. Holding her composure, she turned and walked away, down the hallway and up the stairs.
She’d barely closed the door, when it flew back open and slammed shut.
“What are you thinking?” Jane asked. “Mother is sobbing. Father is yelling.”
Betty shrugged.
“Stop it!” Jane stomped a foot. “This isn’t you!” She planted her hands on her hips. “You can’t marry James!” Glancing at the door, she hissed, “You’re pregnant with Henry’s baby, remember?”
“Of course, I remember!” She’d always remember that. Always remember her baby’s father. “You heard Lane yesterday. Henry will take Elkin to Washington, DC, and be there for months while the trial is happening.”
“So?”
Betty sucked in air to fuel her resolve. “You said I can’t have a baby six months after I get married.”
Jane stared at her, mouth open and shaking her head. “You never told Henry, did you?”
Betty’s throat burned, so did her stomach full of guilt. That was another thing she’d have to learn to live with. “No. And I’m not going to.”
“You have to.”
“No, I don’t.” Her resolve was fading, fast. “I can’t. I can’t do that to him. You saw him yesterday. He’s an FBI agent. That’s his life.” She plopped down on the bed, and tried hard not to cry, but failed. “He doesn’t want a wife, or family. Everything he owns fits in one suitcase so he can go wherever, whenever. Chasing mobsters and villains.”
Jane sat down on the bed beside her, held her hand. “That could change, when he knows the truth.”
“That’s the problem,” Betty whispered. “I don’t want him to have to change. He’s never been loved and doesn’t ever want to be.” She didn’t know how to explain it, but felt it in her heart. “You saw him yesterday, with Elkin.”
“Yes, I did. Elkin was holding a gun on him,” Jane said. “What did you expect him to do?”
She’d gone over this a thousand times in her mind. “To do to exactly what he did,” she admitted. “And I have a baby to think about.”
Jane squeezed her hand harder and leaned her head against hers. “Yes, you do. What if James treats you and the baby terribly? What if he—”
“Is like Father?” She shrugged. “I’ve lived with that my whole life.”
Jane sat up straight and shook her head. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”
“It’s not your choice—it’s mine.”
“No.” Jane stood up. “If you won’t tell Henry, then I will.”
Betty stood, faced her sister, and laid down the ultimatum. “Then I’ll tell Father about us sneaking out. For months.”
Disbelief filled Jane’s face. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would. Because this isn’t about me, or you, or even Henry. It’s about my baby, and I won’t take the chance, take any chance, that this baby will be taken away from me like Aunt Joan’s was, because we both know Father will do that before he’d let me marry Henry.” Determined, she continued, “Marrying James is the only way that’s not going to happen.”
“There has to be—”
“No, there’s not.” She was breaking, inside and out. Sitting on the bed, she wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You said it a moment ago. This isn’t me. And that’s why I have to do this. Henry... Marrying him...” She shook her head. “It would be as if I was trying to be someone I’m not.”
Jane knelt down in front of her, cupped her cheeks. “What if marrying him would be your chance to be who you are?”
The Dryer home grew even more solemn than usual over the course of the next two days. Betty didn’t care. James had met her at the courthouse, they had their marriage license, and would get married in three days. That scared her, mainly the wedding night. To the point she was so sick to her stomach she could barely keep anything down. She kept eating, trying to keep food down, for the baby’s sake.
The rest of her, her emotions, her ability to feel, was numb, as if her insides were wrapped in a quilt to keep anything else from breaking.
She was in the back porch, doing laundry, when Mother opened the door. “Betty, there’s someone at the front door. They want to speak to you.”
Betty plucked a sheet out of the washer to run through the wringer. No one ever came to the house to see her. “Who is it?”
Mother wrung her hands together. “The man you cleaned the house for—he’s here to pay you.”
Henry. Her mouth went dry, but her insides, still shrouded in that heavy quilt, helped her maintain the unequivocal calm she’d mastered the past couple of days. He shouldn’t even be in town. Betty shot a glare toward Jane. They’d barely spoken the past few days.
Jane shrugged and shook her head.
“Betty?” Mother asked.
Betty dropped the sheet back in the water. “I’ll talk to him.”
“I wish I knew where your father was working today,” Mother said to Jane as Betty walked past her.
Betty sucked in air and breathed it out, several times while walking through the house, telling herself she could do this. She could see Henry. She could do anything she set her mind to. Even face him. The man she’d forever dream about.
She grasped ahold of the doorknob on the front door, and stood there for a moment, knowing he was on the other side of it. Her body knew it, too. Despite that invisible quilt she’d come to depend on, parts of her were growing warm, tingling.
Pulling open the door, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
He was leaning against one of the tall white pillars on the front porch, wearing a white shirt with black suspenders and pants, and looked even more handsome than any memory. Any dream. That made her tremble harder. Her knees threatened to buckle, as if forgetting she needed them to stand straight.
“I came to talk to you,” he said, pushing off the pillar.
This—doing what she knew she had to do—would be so much easier when he was gone. “I thought you’d already be in Washington, DC, by now.”
“No, I still had some work to do here.” His eyes never left hers. “Lane just told me you’re marrying James on Saturday. Why?”
She did her best to make a shrug look natural. “It’s as good of a day as any.”
Something, anger perhaps, flashed in his eyes. “Don’t make light of this, Betty.”
“I’m not.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“The truth?”
She nodded, even as her entire body flinched inside.
Henry was fighting hard to maintain his anger. Harder than he’d ever fought before. He’d been dumbfounded, shocked, and furious when he’d hung up from Lane this morning, after learning that Betty was marrying James in three days.
Three, damn, days.
He grabbed her hand. “I’ll show you the truth.”
She pulled her hand away. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t. I’m—”
He glared at her. “You can’t? You can get married in three days, but you can’t leave the house without permission? What are you? A woman or a child?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine.” She followed him to his car and climbed in. “Show me.”
This was not going as he’d planned, as he’d imagined, but that was typical when it came to having anything to do with her. He should have walked away before she’d opened the door. Should never have come here in the first place. It was as if he was a glutton for punishment.
Or he was trying his damnedest not to feel. Not to care.
He shut her door and walked around the car, got in the driver’s side.
She was staring straight ahead.
He started the car, backed out of the driveway, and drove up the hill, toward Bauer’s building site. He’d show her just what kind of a man she was marrying. He’d cursed her father a hundred times over when Lane said that on the phone, and had made Lane repeat what he’d said because he’d been sure he’d misunderstood.
According to Lane, he hadn’t misunderstood anything. William Dryer wasn’t forcing her to marry Bauer on Saturday. It had been her idea. She was the one pushing for the quick wedding.
The silence was more than he could take. “Why, Betty? Why are you pushing to marry him so quickly?”
“It’s what my father wants.”
“But it’s not what you want.”
“How do you know what I want?” she snapped. “You don’t. No one does except me.”
“And this is what you want? Marrying James?”
“Yes, it is.” She looked out the passenger window. “Now, what did you want to show me?”
“We’re almost there,” he said, fully prepared to let her see the type of man she was pushing to marry.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. He shouldn’t be excited to show her that Bauer was a lazy bum, but as he turned onto the road leading up to the building site, a mean streak of enjoyment formed inside. She was about to see Bauer’s continued disregard for the law herself. Then she could decide to not marry him.
However, as the site came into view, he was the one who couldn’t believe his eyes. There were men everywhere. Sawing boards, pounding nails, putting up walls, a roof. What the hell? He’d been here yesterday and the site looked exactly like it had last week. Nothing but a two-by-four frame.
“Is that what you wanted me to see?” she asked. “The house that James is building?”
Hell no. He didn’t pull off the road. Continued right past the building site swarming with men. That shot his investigative work all to hell.
“Take me home, Henry.”
Huffing out a breath, he said, “No one was working on that house yesterday.”
“Because James was waiting on materials,” she said. “And if you noticed, they are now using two-by-sixes. Fully up to code. I’ve spoken to both my father and James about that. Every house built by James will be up to code.”
He clamped his jaw tight.
“Take me home, Henry. Now. I’m marrying James because that’s what I want to do, and you are going to DC because that is what you want to do.”
“Have to!” He pulled the car to the side of the road. “I’m going because I have to go. It’s my job.”
“I know it’s your job,” she said. “Now, please take me home.”
She sounded despondent. He certainly was. He pulled back onto the road and spun a U-turn, taking her back toward her house. Keeping his eyes on the road, he told her the truth. The absolute truth. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Transporting Elkin and Burrows to Washington, DC, because that’s my job. I don’t have a choice.” His throat was on fire, and he had to swallow before saying, “You do.”
She didn’t respond.
His insides were an inferno of his darkest emotions. What had he expected? For her to say she wouldn’t marry Bauer? That she’d be here waiting for him for whenever, if ever, he returned? What kind of satisfaction would that have been? None. Not for her or him.
He drove down the road and parked in the driveway of the abandoned house. The moment he’d seen her, he’d forgotten about the money that was in his shirt pocket. He took it out. Handed it to her.
“What’s that?” She didn’t take it.
“Money for cleaning the house.”
“I don’t want any money from you.”
“Your father will expect—”
“I don’t care what he expects.” She opened the door and climbed out.
He opened his, too. Met her at the front of the car. Touched her arm. “I don’t want to part like this.”
She drew in a deep breath and glanced around. “Will you be transporting Elkin and Burrows by yourself?” she asked.
“No, two other agents will be with me, and we’ll meet our supervisor in Texas—he’ll travel the rest of the way with us.”
“That’s nice. I wouldn’t want you to be alone, all that way.”
He didn’t want her to be alone, either, now or ever. “Why are you marrying Bauer? The truth.”
She stood silent, staring out at the house with its boarded-up windows for so long, he was about to repeat his question, when she turned, looked at him.
She licked her lips, bit down on the bottom one, and then, shaking her head, said, “Because I’m pregnant, Henry.”