Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

LAKE CITY STATE HOSPITAL OCTOBER 1947

Eliza paced the small room, her mind spinning, her lungs near to bursting. Her father was coming today. According to Dr. King, she could very well go home in just a few hours if she could convince her father that she'd seen the error of her ways and was ready to be the good daughter he expected her to be.

Anger flared and she shoved it away. "Think of William," she whispered. "Think of William."

A knock sounded and she bit off a nervous screech. Heart pounding, she waited for the door to open. Betsy slipped inside.

Eliza ran to her friend and wrapped her in a hug. "How did you get in here?"

"It helps to have friends in high places."

"You and Dr. King are getting awfully close, aren't you?"

Betsy blushed. "We are." Then she scowled. "I just need that awful Dr. Stephen to leave me alone. He is constantly making excuses to see me whenever I come visit. He even showed up at my home the other night."

"What?"

"He did." She pulled Eliza to the bed and they sat. "He wanted to court me, and I told him I could never go out with someone who allowed things to go on in this place like he does. The conditions are atrocious, and I told him so."

"What did he say?"

"He left in a hurry, but said..." She bit her lip.

"Said what?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

"Betsy, what did he say?"

"He said you had it very good in here, and that if I didn't want that to change, I'd learn to be a bit nicer to him."

Eliza gasped. "He didn't!"

"He did."

"What did Dr. King say about that?"

"I haven't told him. Yet."

"But you will, right?"

"If necessary."

"I've noticed I have it better than others," Eliza said. "It's so overcrowded, and I don't even have a roommate like everyone else."

Betsy shuddered. "Be glad. I can't believe some of the things I've seen. I've talked to some of the other patients and it's terribly tragic. Someone needs to do something. These people are treated ghastly and it's not a bit their fault they're here."

"I agree. I think my father paid for me to be alone in here. I've also noticed that every time I try to talk to or make friends with another resident, a staff member is quick to intervene and engage me in conversation or try to distract me. He's paying to keep me isolated and from talking much." She twisted her fingers together. "He's afraid I may say something about that night."

"Well, he couldn't pay to keep you from George—er, Dr. King."

"No, of course not. But he thinks he has Dr. King in his pocket." She bit her lip. "He doesn't, does he?"

Betsy gripped her fingers. "He does not. George is an upstanding and wonderful man. He cares deeply for the patients here and has even gone toe to toe with Dr. Stephen about everything from the nasty food to the insufficient care. Dr. Stephen is not too fond of George for bringing him to the attention of the board."

"But you are," Eliza said with a slight smile. Goodness, what would she do without Betsy's regular visits? She'd go absolutely mad and be here forever.

Betsy glanced at the little gold watch on her wrist. "I've got to go. I can't let your father catch me here."

Eliza embraced her friend once more, and Betsy slipped out as silently as she'd slipped in. Eliza dropped onto the bed, pressed her palms to her heated cheeks, took a deep breath, and forced herself to put the memories from the night her father tried to kill her from her mind. And William. The thought of him alone, possibly wondering where she was, squeezed her heart nearly in two.

She grabbed her hidden journal and pen and started writing, desperate to get her thoughts down, mapping out what she'd say, how she'd say it, and dreaming of being reunited with the man she loved.

Ten minutes later, the door opened once more and Bart Crane stepped through. He was six feet tall and had developed a slight paunch in the three months she'd been gone. His hair had thinned and he had more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. She stood and faced him, then dropped her eyes to the floor. It would be easier to lie if she didn't have to look at him. "Hello, Father."

"Eliza. Dr. King says you're ready to come home."

"I am."

He walked toward her and she refused to shrink from him. "Why?"

She stilled. "Why what?"

"Why do you want to come home?"

Confused, she remained silent, unsure what she was supposed to say to that. "I ... I ... it's my home."

"What about what happened the night that landed you here? I can't go through that again."

She bit her lip and forced herself to look up. To meet his gaze and furrow her brow. "I'm sorry, Papa." She nearly gagged on the childhood nickname she'd used for him for years, before reverting to the more formal "Father." "I don't really remember that night." She lifted her wrists and looked at them as though thoroughly befuddled. "They said I tried to hurt myself, but I don't want to do that anymore. Doesn't that mean I'm ready to come home?"

"I see." He cleared his throat. "Very well. I have a young man who I want to introduce to you. Are you willing to dine with him and consider him as a possible beau?"

Eliza suppressed a shudder. You can do this. Do it for William. "I ... I mean, if he's willing to consider me after..." She waved a hand at the room.

"He doesn't know about this, and you'll not speak of it. Once we're gone from here, this place and everyone in it ceases to exist. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Of course. I have no wish to rehash this nightmare." She swallowed the bile at the back of her throat and went to him to wrap her arms around his waist like she used to do as a child. Before she knew what a monster he was. "Thank you, Papa," she whispered.

His hand rested on her shoulder before he set her away from him. "I brought you some clothes and personal items." He opened the door and pulled in a bag from the hallway. "Take this and make yourself presentable and we will get out of here. I'll be waiting just outside. And hurry. The smell is enough to make someone with the strongest constitution gag."

He left and Eliza let her shoulders fall. Tears gathered and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself on the bed and weep. But now she had a part to play. A script to follow until she could find a way to get to William.

Be strong, my love, I'm coming.