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Betty's eyes felt like they were full of gravel. She glanced at her watch. Time seemed to be dragging. She couldn't believe only 15 minutes had passed. Curiosity got the better of her and she decided to go down to the furnace room to see if she could be of any help.
She slowly climbed down the rickety wooden stairs into the cellar. It was dark and musty smelling and cold. She shivered in her sweater. When she got to the bottom of the stairs she felt a familiar panic start in her throat. Ever since being accidentally locked in their storm cellar when she was 8, she had been a bit claustrophobic about being underground. Up ahead, the door to the furnace room was open with an inviting light shining from it. She quickly headed toward it. She walked up to the door and peeked in. She saw Scott's feet first. He was on his back under something. While she stood there, he swung out from underneath and got on one knee, peering into a hole.
She thought she better make her presence known. She leaned over and said quietly, "Scott?"
He had been concentrating so hard that she startled him. He stood up quickly bumping into her, which sent her flying backwards. The door that was propped open stopped her from falling to the floor, but the weight of her body dislodged the stopper that was holding it open. The door began to silently slide shut.
Scott yelled as he lunged at the door, "Don't let the door shut!" Click. He turned to Betty. "Betty, are you bound and determined to give me a heart attack tonight? What are you doing down here? I thought you went home an hour ago."
His anger at her and his obvious dislike of having her there hurt Betty more that she could say. She answered back sharply. "It's only been fifteen minutes and, I'm sorry, I thought you might need some help. But, obviously I'm not wanted, so I'll just go."
She stormed over to the door and grabbed the handle and pulled. It was stuck. She tried again. It wouldn't budge. She thought What a way to ruin a dramatic exit. She turned around to see Scott leaned against the wall with his arms folded laughing at her. She snapped, "What's so funny? The door is stuck."
"It's not stuck."
"Yes, it is." She tugged on the door again. "It won't open."
"It's locked."
"Well then how do I unlock it?"
"You don't. Sorry. You may as well settle in for the night. We're not going anywhere. The door has an automatic lock on it. That's why it's always propped open. It can only be opened from the outside."
As Scott checked out the lock on the door, Betty could feel the familiar panic in her throat start. She backed up until the wall stopped her. The thought of being stuck in this tiny little underground room...
Scott got up brushing his hands. "I can't see any way of opening it up short of dynamite." He turned around and saw the panic on Betty face. He hurried toward her, but stopped a couple of feet short when a thought occurred to him. "Betty, you don't have to worry about being alone with me. I would never..."
The significance of what he was saying penetrated Betty's state of panic and she quickly denied what he was thinking. "No. That's not it at all, Scott. I..."
Scott noticed the beads of perspiration on her forehead. "You're claustrophobic, aren't you?"
She answered shakily. "A bit. How did you guess?"
"I'm familiar with the symptoms. A buddy of mine suffered from it. I always used to get his mind off of it by telling him one of my stories."
Betty's eyes pled with him. "Scott, please tell me one of your stories."
Scott quickly glanced around the room and then disappeared into a small alcove behind the furnace. He pulled out an old red velvet Victorian-style couch that only had two legs left. He broke the remaining legs off and pushed it up against the bare wall.
"Well, it's seen better days, but it beats sitting on the floor. Come, sit down, Betty."
Betty took off her sweater and sat down. It was a little lumpy and scratchy and she wiggled a bit to find a comfortable spot. She curled her legs up under her and used her sweater as a blanket. As Scott perched on one of the arms, he shivered. "Now, lean back and close your eyes."
She did. Scott folded his arms to keep warm. "Did I ever tell you about the adventure I had in Morocco?" She shook her head. His voice was so soothing, but she was worried about something. She opened her eyes.
"Scott, you must be cold."
"Nah, I'm fine. Why, when I was in the Antarctic, it was so cold..."
"Scott, I'm serious. I'm not going to be able to relax knowing you're cold. It will make me feel better if you share my sweater with me."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Betty."
"Scott, we've got to be practical. You know as well as I do that body heat is the best way for two people to keep warm." Scott stood up and turned his back on Betty. He ran his hand through his hair.Betty continued matter-of-factly. "I mean it Scott. I'm not going to rest until you come share my sweater with me. In fact, I won't stop talking until you do. I'll talk and talk and talk…"
"OK, OK." He said with a smile. "Anything but that."
Scott sat down next to her and tried not to think of the clean smell of her. Betty covered him with half her sweater and settled back. "OK, I'm happy now. You may go on with your story."
Scott cleared his throat and began his story. "The summers in Morocco are murderous. I was stuck there one sweltering summer with no way out. Three men who wanted nothing better than to see me dead had tracked me there..."
Betty sighed and nestled down close to Scott. He smelled of coal dust and after-shave. She smiled at the thought of the funny combination. Her claustrophobia evaporated into thin air as she got caught up in Scott's wild adventure in Morocco. His voice was so soothing and her head felt so heavy. She stopped fighting it and let her head drop onto Scott's shoulder.
Scott stopped in mid-sentence when he realized Betty was asleep. He studied her serene face and wondered, "How did this little snip of a woman bring me to my knees?" He couldn't help it. He reached up and gently touched her cheek and whispered, "Sweet dreams."
At his touch, Betty squirmed. She wiggled looking for a more comfortable position. Scott lifted his arm up around her shoulders. She immediately put her arms around him and snuggled up into his neck. As Scott sat there wide-awake with his arms tenderly enveloping her, Betty dreamed of coming home.
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A clanking noise permeated Betty's sleep. She didn't want to wake up. She had slept so warm and comfortable. What was that irritating noise? Was her ice box acting up again? Reluctantly, she blinked her eyes open. The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't at home in her bed. For a moment, she was disoriented, then with a rush she remembered all that happened last night. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of sleeping in Scott's arms. Scott...Where was he? She came fully awake and looked around. She was alone."Did I dream the whole thing?" She called, "Scott?"
Scott poked his head out from behind the furnace. "We're over here, Betty." With a whoosh, the furnace started. Scott emerged from the furnace room with a man who admonished him. "All fixed, Mr. Sherwood. But you need to be more careful with that door."
"You're right, Mr. Collins. Do you think you could remove the door to prevent this happening again?" He glanced over at Betty.
"It's way too dangerous the way it is," Mr. Collins agreed.
Scott gave a hand to help Betty up from the low couch. "Come on, Betty. Let's go home and get cleaned up before anyone else gets here." He smiled and gently touched her nose. "You've got soot on your nose."
Betty smiled back. Then, with all the courage she could muster, she reached up and brushed back the lock of Scott's hair that had once again fallen across his forehead.
Betty's Journey of Discovery Series
Go to Betty's Journey of Discovery#13 - Wooing Thaddeus Taylor!
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