Late the next morning, Betty deposited her previous evening’s earnings in the bank. The pleasant teller updated her savings book. Betty smiled at the final tally. To her it was a good number that kept getting better and better. She took her bankbook to her father’s bedside. He seemed to brighten up at her presence. Then after some small talk, she asked how much he needed to get the farm back. It was becoming harder to have substantive conversations with her father. He responded to important issues with the words, “I don’t want to think about it.”
Betty couldn’t hide from the problems that easily. She was out there in Citadel facing reality head on and it was changing her. She had to face it. She had to solve the family’s problem since no one else could. She couldn’t leave things the way they were. She couldn’t accept or ignore the world around her. She loved her Father and wanted to help. She wanted to go back home. So she pressed him.
“Seriously dad, how much?”
Facing away from her he mumbled, “a lot.”
“Well how much is a lot?” She persisted.
In despair he blurted out the number. She couldn’t cover it yet but she could get it. At the rate she was going, she figured she could buy the farm outright sometime next year. All they had to do was hold on. Proudly, Betty presented the bankbook to her father.
All he wanted to know was where the money came from and how she got it. She tried to explain without going into details, but he figured it out. “I may be from a little farm down south, but I’m not an idiot.”
“Elizabeth Samantha McDougal, tell me the truth! How did you get this money?” He demanded.
She felt like a little girl again. She knew he wouldn’t like it, but she did what her father ordered. She thought there was a way to explain it so that he would understand, but her words kept coming out wrong. The more she spoke the worse it sounded. The more she spoke the worse she incriminated herself. Through tears and sobs she told him everything.
He didn’t recognize his daughter anymore. She had become a complete stranger to him. Without his consent, intent or knowledge his daughter was now part of the Citadel underworld! She should have known better! How could she do this to him? She was a sneak! She sold out! When did it start? It must have been for a while based on the amount of money she had stashed! He couldn’t look at the whore before him.
Betty begged with him to listen to reason, but he wouldn’t have it. He couldn’t take her words or money. He wouldn’t acknowledge that he drove his innocent little daughter into prostitution because he wasn’t man enough to provide for his family. First he lost his wife and now her. He failed everyone. Money had destroyed them. It truly was the root of all evil. And she was contaminated. He banished the dirty slut from his life.
Betty ran. She wanted out, out of the room, out of the hospital and out of Citadel. She wanted to go back to farm, and she would get there no matter what it took!
Sister Hazel didn’t hear all the details of the conversation, but she got the gist of the immediate situation. She knew these types of dramatic exits never ended well. She intercepted the hysterical girl and guided her into the church above the shelter to console her.
As they sat in the pew, Sister Hazel tried to draw the story out of Betty. The girl recounted the argument editing out the most egregious aspects and any mention of the word Razzles. The story the nun absorbed went something like; the father and daughter had a fight about a boy. Also, Betty had been making money as a waitress and offered to give her father money to help him out. But, like most men, Betty’s father was far too proud to accept help from any woman, let alone his daughter. His pride was bruised. All the nuns knew Randall was getting a little more crotchety since the illness afflicted him. Sister Hazel was just sorry that poor Betty had gotten the brunt of his wrath.
Betty realized Sister Hazel bought the story. The nun even offered some advice. She wanted Betty to think about her future. “You can use the money to help your father in a way where he won’t feel threatened. You can care for him while he’s sick once you’ve had the proper training. You could become a nurse. Once he sees that you’ve made something important of yourself he would be proud of you and he would embrace you once again.”
Betty listened to her words as the nun continued. “All men throw tantrums young Betty. He cannot stay mad forever. Time healed all wounds. So you must stay nearby and wait him out.”
To Betty it sounded like good advice. She wanted to help him. Maybe this was the only way she could redeem herself in his eyes. She could become a nurse. Maybe even his nurse eventually. Sister Hazel would arrange everything with the school for Betty. All she needed was the tuition. Betty asked how much it was. The nun responded and added, “but they’ll take payments.”
The nun gulped and asked. “Do you think you have enough money for it?”