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THE POLICEMAN WALKED Bethany back to the Arlington Hotel where her aunt and uncle waited. With every step, she dreaded the confrontation to come a little more.
She hated that she'd worried them and hoped Aunt Margaret didn't have another one of her terrible headaches. Making them sick with worry hadn't been her intention. She'd just wanted to get away from Mr. Rivalde. If he hadn't put his hands all over her and scared her, she would've been back at the hotel by now reading her book. She did owe them an apology.
Once she and the policeman reached the hotel, they rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. The policeman knocked on the door of her aunt and uncle's hotel room.
His expression stony, Uncle James opened the door.
“Here she is, safe and sound,” the policeman said.
“Thank you, officer.” Uncle James stood aside to allow Bethany to walk into the room.
The police officer bobbed his head and turned to leave. “Good evening, then.”
Aunt Margaret's face was white with rage. The minute Uncle James closed the door, she rounded on Bethany. “How dare you?”
“Leaving Mr. Rivalde in the theater was inexcusable.” Uncle James tone was severe. “You embarrassed him, embarrassed me, and embarrassed your aunt.”
Bethany's coat lay across the bed, but she saw no sign of Mr. Rivalde.
“We raised you to have better manners,” Aunt Margaret said.
“I'm extremely disappointed in you.” Uncle James said. “You will apologize to Richard.”
“I had to leave. He was...” She wrapped her arms around herself and forced out the words. “He was... touching me.”
“Liar.” Aunt Margaret backhanded her across the face.
Shocked and stung, Bethany froze, her eyes wide and her shoulders shaking. Though her parents had spanked her many times as a child, no one had ever hit her in the face before.
Uncle James appeared shocked, too, but recovered quickly and said, “You're not in a position to accuse a man I've known for years of such a thing. Not when you run with known criminals and carry on, drinking and running wild. You're the one who's out of control.”
“But he—”
“Not another word out of you.” Uncle James raised his hand.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You will apologize to Mr. Rivalde,” Aunt Margaret said.
Her arms dropped and she blinked the tears away. “I will not.”
“You will apologize,” Uncle James said. “And you will accept his offer of marriage.”
“Marriage?” Bethany squeaked, barely getting the word out.
“Yes, marriage. Richard is willing to forgive you and forget this evening's escapade, and he's offered to save your reputation by giving you his good name.”
“I, I don't have a reputation. You never let me leave the house. No one even knows me.”
“Don't be ridiculous.” Aunt Margaret said. “You ruined your reputation the minute you cut your hair and started running around this town half dressed.”
“You think I should marry that man? I just met him. He, he had his hands all over me at that theater. I couldn't bear to spend another evening alone with him, let alone marry him.” She turned toward her uncle. “Just because you have a business deal with him doesn't... oh.”
She stepped back and put her hand over her mouth to cover her gasp.
“She's out of control, James,” Aunt Margaret said.
“You've been pushing me toward him.” Bethany pointed at her aunt, and then turned to face her uncle. Eyes wide, she stood shaking as the truth grew within her. “Your business deal involves me. It, it's about my inheritance.”
“Don't be silly.” Her aunt stood. “You're too high strung tonight, and your thoughts are out of control.” She moved toward the door and addressed Uncle James. “There's no point trying to reason with her when she's like this.”
“We'll be back when you've had time to calm down and become more reasonable.” Uncle James said.
“You mean when I calm down and agree to do what you want.”
“I suggest you get some sleep,” Uncle James said. “It's past your bedtime.”
“I am not a child.”
“You're behaving like a willful child.” Aunt Margaret gathered her purse. “You will stay in this room until you come to your senses.” She turned to Uncle James. “James. The phone.”
Uncle James pulled the phone out of the wall, and Aunt Margaret picked up Bethany's purse. Then they left the room and locked her in from the outside.
“No!” She ran to the door and twisted the handle, but it wouldn't open. She banged on the door. “You can't lock me in here.”
She didn't have a key. They'd caged her here in her own hotel room. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She flung herself on the bed. It's so unfair. It's all so unfair.
She burst into tears and cried herself to sleep.
*****
THE CHIRPING OF THE birds and the sun pouring through the window woke Bethany. No one had closed the drapes last night. She'd fallen asleep fully dressed. Her eyes were puffy and tired, and the tracks of her tears streaked her face. Her head and stomach hurt. She needed something to eat. A piece of toast, anything.
She waited, but no one came. No one brought her any food or anything to drink. Her aunt and uncle must have told the staff to stay away.
Her stomach sloshed from all the water she drank after she awakened. At least she had a water glass and a sink so she wouldn't dry up from the heat in the room. The day was so hot. She peeled off her clothing from the night before and pulled on her coolest, thinnest cotton nightgown, then washed everything else out in the sink and hung it up to dry.
She was both hungry and slightly nauseated. Her headache had gone away after drinking plenty of water and taking an aspirin powder. Oh, if she could only have a roll or even just some crackers. Anything.
She hated being locked inside this room. How long could this go on? If she were at home, they could lock her in her room for a very long time, but here, if they kept her locked up too long, surely that would draw attention. Besides, tomorrow was her birthday, and she would turn eighteen. They couldn't do what they wanted to her once she was of age, could they?
Through the open window, the song Bye, Bye Blackbird drifted in along with the summer heat. Bethany sang along with Gene Autry, “Blackbird, blackbird, singing the blues all day...”
She went over to the window and leaned on the windowsill, listening and enjoying what little breeze caressed her heated skin.
“Pack up all my cares and woes, here I go... “ Her toes tapped as they always did when a song spoke to her as her voice carried out the window. “No one here can love and understand me...”
The song expressed so much of what she felt. If only someone would hear her and come let her out of this blasted room.
Yet no one came.
The day finally passed, and dinnertime arrived. Her stomach hurt just like it had when she was small and Aunt Margaret would punish her by sending her to bed without supper. Back then; another whole day might pass until they allowed her to eat again. At that point, she would agree to whatever her aunt wanted. They'd finally allow her to join them at supper the next night, and her aunt would imply that Bethany had eaten earlier that day when she hadn't. Uncle James always believed her aunt over her.
This time, however, Uncle James had helped Aunt Margaret lock her in. So now she knew his failure to protect her from her aunt in the past hadn't been because he'd been unaware of what Aunt Margaret had done. No, he'd either agreed with her aunt or he just didn't care enough to intervene.
Bethany would never agree to what they wanted this time, no matter what they did to her. She'd starve to death first. I'm not the one who is out of control and unreasonable. They are.
Something deep within her soul told her that treating a child this way was wrong. Though she was no longer a child, she remembered so many instances like this; times when they'd starved her. It was wrong. So very wrong. She'd done nothing to deserve it.
Parents or guardians should feed children until they are no longer hungry. They should never call their children names. Or slap them in the face.
When she had children of her own, she would never treat them that way. She would love them with everything she had.
Also, Mr. Rivalde should not have put his hands on her that way. It had made her feel dirty and used. Dear God, if that was how he behaved on the first date, how much worse would he act if she married him? She had to get away.
Neither her aunt nor her uncle had believed her, and neither one of them had asked how she was or expressed any relief that she was okay. For a family supposedly so worried about her, the only emotion Aunt Margaret and Uncle James had displayed when she'd arrived back at the room safe and sound was anger.
Bethany decided to remain quiet until tomorrow, when she turned eighteen. Then she could fly far, far away. She would find an attorney and ask him to contact Uncle James about her inheritance.
Right now she had no money, but she would find a job. Maybe one of her new friends would help her. Suki knew everybody. If only Bethany had a way to get a message to Suki. She'd find a way to get me out of this room.
Standing at the window on the fifth floor looking down, Bethany could find no way out, no way to get a message to anyone. What about Paul? Had he gone to the park today and waited for her, then wondered why she didn't show? Or had he forgotten all about her?
She wished she could talk to Paul. He wouldn't let her aunt and uncle keep her locked up like this with no food to eat, but she couldn't call him or Suki or anyone else, since her uncle had taken the phone.
All she could do was wait. She opened her book to read again about exotic places and imagine she was anywhere but here. Reading would make time pass faster and help her forget she was hungry, at least for a while.
The sun went down, and still no one came. When dinner hour passed without anyone bringing her anything to eat, Bethany ran a cool bath and prepared for bed.
No one would come tonight.
She bathed and washed her hair and vowed to get a good night's sleep so she'd be rested for her birthday the next day.
*****
THE NEXT MORNING, SOMEONE turned a key in the lock and opened the door.
Aunt Margaret stood in the doorway looking in, her lips pursed.
Bethany sat on the bed, wearing her new golden dress, her book open on her lap.
“Well, I'm glad to see you've settled down.”
She didn't reply. She simply looked at her aunt.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Bethany gave her aunt a bland look, kept her thoughts to herself, and tried not to be as readable as usual. Then she shrugged.
“I promised we'd shop for a birthday dress,” Aunt Margaret said. “Since you insist you will no longer wear corsets, you must find some other sort of suitable support.”
Bethany closed the book and stood. Her aunt peered at her as if trying to read her mood and thoughts, but Bethany gave nothing away.
“Well, come along then.”
Bethany walked toward the door, and her stomach gave a loud growl.
Her aunt smirked. “I suppose you'd like to have a small breakfast before we go.”
Without speaking, Bethany turned away.
Just outside the door, her aunt halted. “Well, do you want breakfast, or don't you?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“I won't have you being sullen all day and refusing to speak to anyone.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Bethany followed her aunt, but kept repeating one word over and over inside her head as soon as she walked out the door.
Free. Free. Free.