The Betsy Book

[You will find earlier chapters by scrolling down the page]

Patter Joe liked riding in the car, head hanging out the window with ears flapping. He was just the right size: small enough to pick up, big enough for rough play. When they got to the house, he went right to Mom and sat down in front of her with his head cocked, waiting. She was delighted, and patted his head. Mom looked at Betsy and Dad. “He’ll do. I think we have a fine pup here.”

Betsy smiled happily. She hadn’t even minded the drive back despite Uncle Herman’s cigar. Betsy rode in back next to Patter, and she hadn’t taken her eyes or hands off him the whole trip. Mom liked him, too, so Patter was part of the family.

“Want to go down to the river for a swim?” Junior asked.

This sounded perfect to Betsy. She was hot and the smell of the farm clung to her nose and skin.

“Mom, may I go swimming?”

“Junior? You’ll keep a close eye on her?” Junior was a good swimmer. Betsy was getting better each year.

“Yes, Aunt Rachel. She’ll be safe with me.”

Betsy changed quickly into her swimming suit. It was black knitted wool, and rather heavy when it got wet. She pulled the straps over her shoulders and dashed back out of the bedroom. “I’m ready!”

“Do you have a towel?” Mom asked. She was sitting at the kitchen table having tea with Aunt Mary. “I want you to dry off as soon as you get out so you don’t get a chill. And mind, Junior, you get her out if her lips get blue.”

Aunt Mary rose and went to the linen closet in the hallway. “Here’s a towel each for you and Junior. Have you invited Betty to go?” Betty was a cousin, daughter of Mom’s sister, Aunt Carrie. She had a way of rubbing in the fact that Betsy was the youngest of all the cousins. Playing with her wasn’t always fun.

Betsy had hoped no one would remember to ask Betty. Having Junior to herself was the most fun, but it was selfish to leave Betty out.

“I’ll go over to ask while Junior’s changing.” Betsy was out the door before Mom or Aunt Mary had time to say anything.
It was only a block to Betty’s house, so Betsy was on the front porch quickly. Now she was hotter than ever, She pressed the doorbell hard, remembering to ring only once. Mom said once was enough. Ringing the bell over and over sounded impatient and rude.

Betty appeared at the door. “Betsy. We heard you were coming today.” She pushed back her blondish-brown hair from her face.

“Yes, and Junior and I are going to the river for a swim. Want to come along?” Betsy asked breathlessly.

“Just a minute. I’ll ask.” She disappeared into the dimness of the house. Betsy pressed her nose against the screen. She could hear Aunt Carrie speaking.

“Of course you may go if Junior’s there. Where’s Betsy?”

“On the porch.”

“Gracious! You didn’t ask her in? That’s no way to treat someone who has come to the door. Let her in. Scoot!”

It sounded like Aunt Carrie insisted on good manners, too. There were certainly a lot to learn.

Betsy waited in the kitchen with Aunt Carrie while Betty put on her suit and got a towel. They banged out the back door. Betty got on her bike and rode ahead of Betsy around the corner. Betsy ran as fast as she could to keep up, but she hadn’t laced her canvas shoes tightly in her hurry to go swimming, and one fell off. She stuffed her foot in and hobbled the rest of the way.

Junior was sitting on his bike in the driveway. His swimming suit was a lot like the two girls, but the front was cut much lower, and had blue and white stripes on the top to go with solid navy bottom half. Betty sat on her bike as well, looking at Betsy with a smirk that clearly said ‘ha ha I beat you.’

“What took so long? I’m half melted out here waiting.”

“Betty had to get her suit on and my shoe came off,” Betsy explained. She glared at Betty. “Can Patter Joe come?”

“Your mom said no,” Junior reported. “She says he needs to stay here since he doesn’t know the neighborhood.” He reached a hand to Betsy. “OK. Let’s go. Betsy, get up here behind me on the seat and I’ll ride you down.” He helped her onto the seat, and Betsy wrapped her arms around his stomach. She looked back at Betty with a look that clearly said ‘ha ha I’m riding with Junior.’ Betty frowned.

The breeze from the motion of the bike felt good on her hot skin as Junior pedaled standing up. Down the sidewalk they went, then into the street. Junior wove through the streets until they arrived at the dirt path that lead to the river where the water was shallow and the current slow.

Betsy peered around Junior as they slowed. The huge oak tree by the river hung over the water. The air was still, hot, and the dust kicked up from the bikes hung in the air. Betsy slid off the seat and grabbed a towel out of the basket.

“Last one in’s a rotten egg!” she shouted. She dropped her towel, still running, and leapt into the river ahead of Junior and Betty. Betty and Junior ran to the bank of the river and jumped in, Junior just after Betty.

“You’re a rotten egg!” Betty cried to Junior happily.

“Shucks,” said Junior, “it happens ever time.” He winked at Betsy, who had seen him slow down to let Betty beat him. He was telling Betsy not to say anything so Betty wouldn’t know he’d let her win. Junior was nice to everyone. Betsy wanted to be as nice as Junior, but it was hard. She winked back.

Betsy flopped on her back and let the lazy current carry her down the river a ways. How quiet it was when her ears were under water. All she could hear was the rippling of the gentle water and splashes from the other two behind her. She stood up. The water barely reached her waist. She saw Junior floating belly-up nearby with his head toward her. Betsy crouched down and waited for him to get closer.

When he was within reach, she cried, “Gotcha!” and pushed his head under the water. Junior rose up, sputtering, and grabbed her foot, jerking her under. Betsy pulled away and stood up. They both began sweeping big arcs of water at each other. Betsy had to close her eyes against the wall of water hitting her, and swung blindly, hoping she was getting Junior back.

“STO-O-O-O-P!” Betsy dimly heard Betty shrieking. The water stopped washing over her, and she blinked away the water in her eyes.

Junior turned to Betty. “What’s wrong?”

Betty was almost in tears. “You know I hate water fights! You have to stop and play with me!” She hit the water angrily and splashed water in her own face. Betsy was secretly glad.

“What about a swing on the rope, then?” Junior suggested.

“Yes! Me first!” Betty cried, and began to wade to shore.

Rats. Betsy still wanted to play in the river. Now they had to wade out, which meant walking through the boggy edge of the river where bloodsuckers lurked. Betsy shuddered, hoping there wouldn’t be any today. Junior always took care of them if any clung to her leg or foot, scraping the leeches off with a stick. She still hated the disgusting, black, slimy creatures. The place where they attached still bled after they were gone. Ugh.

Fortunately, when they checked their legs, they’d been lucky: no leeches. Betty ran to the tree with the rope.

The oak tree stood next to the river, wide, high, and solid like a sentry guarding a gate. It extended one long branch over the water, making it perfect for a rope swing, knotted at the bottom to give the person swinging a seat. The rope was very thick, strong and long, within a foot of the ground. Because of the length, anyone swinging went way out over the water. It was great fun. Betsy wished the water was deep enough to drop off with a splash, but it was so shallow anyone who jumped off would land with a jarring thud.

Betty put the rope between her legs and wrapped her arms around the rope. “I’m ready, Junior,” she squealed.

“Better grab with your hands, too, Betty,” Junior said, “you might slip off with just your arms around the rope.”

“I am holding on tight,” Betty said firmly.

Junior shrugged, then pulled the rope back, back, back, high as he could and let go. Betty swung in a huge arc out over the river and then back almost to where Junior stood. She caught Betsy’s eye and, taking an arm off the rope, waved wildly as she went back over the river. It was enough to unseat her, and she dropped into the river hard.

Betty began to shriek, then sob, and Junior ran into the water, huge steps, lifting his feet high above the water for speed. He was at her side in an instant, and scooped her out of the water in his arms.

“Are you all right?”

Betty cried harder as Junior began wading out of the water. When he stepped on shore and turned, Betsy could see blood seeping out of her mouth.

“Betsy, ride her bike home, fast as you can, and tell her father to bring the car. She’s bitten her lip right through.”

Betsy immediately felt sorry for the mean thoughts about Betty. She jumped on the bike, barefoot. As she rode away, Betsy remembered she wasn’t supposed to ride without shoes. Mom worried about her catching a toe in the spokes. Too bad. She bent over the handlebars and flew up the streets to Aunt Carrie’s house.

Aunt Carrie! Uncle Roy! Quick, Betty’s hurt. Junior says to come to the river right now with the car!” Betsy could hardly get the words out. She felt lightheaded and bent over, gasping for air.

* * * * * * * * *

That night, Betsy and Betty shared the cot on the sleeping porch. Betty had seven stitches in her lip, which was swollen and stuck out as if she were pouting.

“I’m sorry about….” Betsy paused, “…well, everything.”

Betty nodded without speaking. They lay quietly, then. The sliver of moon rose in the night sky as their breathing slowed and grew rhythmic. The soft breeze ruffled their hair, and the monotonous buzz of cicadas filled the night. They slept.

© Kathy Mortensen 2005

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 4th, 2005 at 3:00 pm and is filed under Betsy Book. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.