It Had to be Good! - Christmas at Famous-Barr 1929 - 12. XIII. Week Four – Chapter 2: Place & Time

XIII. Week Four –

Chapter 2: Place & Time

"Are you sure you're going back to work, Singer?" Bettina heard the stress in her own voice.

She had just opened the door to the green room and let her father step in ahead of her.

"I'm fine, girl. We have a contract to fulfill."

Bet entered, closing the door behind her. And for the first time became aware others were in the room, namely Dandiprat Dave and Lowell Fredricks. Both rose to their feet as they saw Singer go to his dressing table and mirror. He sat down.

"Oh, sorry, boys," Bet offered feebly. "Didn’t mean to interrupt your interview."

"It's all right," Lowell said, folding closed his sketchpad. "We were just wrapping up."

Both interviewee and interviewer made their way silently to the door, casting furtive glances towards Singer Martin.

Bet followed, thanking them with a head-nod and a feeble attempt at a smile. She closed it quietly behind them and turned to Singer.

He was applying the white base of his makeup and looking fit and determined. The momentary reflection in the mirror of that vigor threw Bettina for a loop; but it was only momentary.

Nevertheless, she had to do what she had to do.

She went up behind him. "Father, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and the last day of Glen's Santa gig."

"Yes. We'll pay him off and be rid of him."

"Dad, that's not what I mean. I mean – "

"I'm busy, Bet. We can discuss things in couple of days, when we're on the train to Florida."

"Singer, it can't wait that long." She felt flushed determination creep onto her face.

He held his daughter's gaze in the mirror. "It will have to."

For a moment, Bet paused. His request seemed so reasonable, but then the plain truth of her not being on the same train as her dad – or with the troupe at all – hit her.

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He froze in his motions, glaring a challenge at her in reflection.

"It can't wait."

He suddenly put down his grease sponge and turned to face her. His chair protested angrily against the floor, and to Bet's eyes, the sadsack clown never looked so menacing.

"Glen and me," she continued. "We're engaged. I'm going with him to Texas."

"Engaged? Oh, no. Not without my permission." He rose to his feet, forcing Bettina to back away.

"I love him, Dad. And he loves me – "

"He didn't ask for my permission."

"Believe me, we both want your blessing, but – "

"But without it, you'll leave me anyway?!" There was more demand than question in his tone.

Bet began to wonder… "Yes, your good wishes, but we don’t need them. I'm grown up, Singer – twenty-one – so, you can't stop – "

"Bettina! This is not how you were raised to talk to your father!"

His shouting almost reduced the girl to tears. She lowered her head, but slowly, thanks to the recalled image of Glen Curtis leaning in the doorway to fetch her, she grew confident that she was doing the right thing.

She held her father's eyes. "One way or the other, Pops. It's our life, not yours."

He blinked as if realizing he'd overplayed his cards. His hands shot out to latch onto his daughter. "Yes, Bettina, your life, but I can't sit idly by and let you waste it."

"Waste it…?" Bet was stunned.

"Yes, waste it. Look, I can't stomach the idea of a daughter of mine being used and left by that 'cowboy.'"

The girl's blush returned, only this time it was due to feeling incensed. "Glen is not like that. Do you think I'd be with him if he were?!" She pulled out of his grip.

Singer began to tear up; tracks of wetness forming un-smeared across his white cheeks.

Her heart thawed, but not her resolve. "You can't cling to 'old times' forever, Father. Things must change, grow, or else they wither and die."

"Don’t leave me, Bet – not like your mother."

"Dad – "

"It's true, Bettina. I 'cling' to the past, but for a reason. I've been so restless, always keeping the troupe on the move, knowing – just knowing in my bones – that one day she, your mother, would see my name on a poster, or in the paper, and come back to see me. I want my daughter by my side to 'prove' I was a decent father; to show that my daughter loves me; and make that woman regret all these years we could have been together as a family."

A cruel vindictiveness had arisen in Singer's voice as he finished his statement; Bet apparently never knew the man. She pitied him.

"For twenty-one years," she asked quietly. "You've limped down the road on the fumes of revenge? That's sad, Singer. Just…it's too sad to think about. But, you can't make me a part of it anymore. Glen and I have a shot – a real shot, in this place and time – and we're gonna take it."

He crumpled into the chair, and Bet knelt by his side.

She placed a hand on his leg and said, "I'm sure you understand, Father. It's just the kind of happiness she took from you. So why – how – could you deny it to me? To your own flesh and blood?"

Singer's limb began to quiver. A confirming look up into his face told Bet he was vacillating between acceptance and rage. The scales were tipped; his eyes were burning bright with indignity. He shouted as he rose to his feet, "You will do as I say!"

Bettina scrambled on the floor to get away from him.

In a blinding second of confusion, Alden came crashing through the door. He immediately sidestepped the girl and grabbed Singer from behind. He attempted to lock his arms around the troupe leader's shoulders, saying calmly: "That's enough now."

The angry man's fists flailed on Alden's hands and arms where he pinned Singer, but in that momentarily delay, Bet was able to stand up.

"Let go, you damned fruit!" Bettina's father yelled and tried to twist out of the other man's grasp.

"Not until you say you're calm again. And stop shouting; the kids can hear you!"

Suddenly, Singer was perfectly still. His breathing remained heavy, but he offered no resistance. Alden loosened his hold by slow degrees, and then finally released Singer once that man showed no signs of restarting his aggression.

Alden moved around in front of his boss. He stood by Bet's side.

Astounded by the realization, Bet asked her father quietly, "So, your collapse, that was all a ploy to get me to give up Glen?"

Singer rolled his eyes, but did not answer.

"Look," Alden offered in a reasonable tone. "It's over, Singer. It's time to let go, or you will lose her forever."

Without warning, Singer Martin launched himself at Alden, grabbing ahold of him by the neck and punching him in the gut.

Alden's air escaped him as a pain-wracked grunt, and Bettina let out a scream.

Alden pushed Singer back and put up his dukes.

The men danced around one another for only a moment until a knuckle-busting sound broke across Singer's face. He punched back, but Alden ducked, and landed a solid jab into Singer's abdomen.

The struck man mumbled a pain-filled profanity about Alden and lashed out again.

"Stop it!" Bet screamed.

A hard punch landed right against the side of Alden's eye socket and reeled him back in agony.

Singer struck again, landing an upper cut to the man's jaw, and shouting, "I trusted you… I trusted you!"

Alden fell to the floor on one knee.

Singer mercilessly delivered a right hook that sent his opponent cheek-first to the dusty boards under his feet.

"Oh, Singer," Bet said as Alden slightly groaned, and her father stood over the man with cocked fist, panting heavily. "He trusted YOU – and so did I…" The girl broke down in dry-heaving sobs.

All color drained from her father's face. It was as if Singer had awoken from a nightmare. "Bet…"

She ran to the door, and wrestled momentarily with Lowell Fredricks trying to re-enter.

She bolted down the hallway, hearing her dad's voice trail "Wait" after her.

˚˚˚˚˚

Lowell stood aghast just inside the doorway of the green room. Bettina had rushed past him only moments ago, and her father had roughly knocked his shoulder to move the man out of his way as he darted after her. To the adman's horror, Alden was groaning, and groping for a chair to try and raise himself from the floor.

Lowell flew to his side, slid the last foot or so on his knees and gently grabbed the beaten man from behind. He yanked out his handkerchief and forced Alden to look at him.

Besides the dark swellings of a black eye forming while he watched, thick blood trailed from the corner of Alden's mouth.

A bible verse formed itself out of Lowell's desire to soothe. "Oh, Alden, I will be your comforter." He rocked him gently.[1]

"It's over, Lowell. I can't stay with Singer after this."

"Yes. But it will be all right. Sometimes change is good."

Alden was moodily silent, and the adman thought of a way around it. "They all talked about you, you know."

"Who?"

"Your troupe members. They all told me how you touched their lives, and made them better."

Again, silence greeted Lowell's attempt to cheer him up.

"But you know," started the adman with a growing confidence. "There's one more interview I need to do."

"With who?"

"With you."

"Lowell – "

"Okay, but one question then."

Alden reluctantly nodded, and Lowell Fredricks' eyes flickered with tears. "Do you love me? Because I really love you."

Alden scrambled to kneel right before the adman, but never withdrew his eyes from Lowell. He lifted his hands and placed them on Lowell's cheek. "I've never cared for anyone the way I do for you. Yes, I love you."

Lowell felt Alden pull him into a kiss, and through his tightly closed eyes, his tears became ones of joy; ones where the salty-iron taste of his beloved's life force entered directly into him.

˚˚˚˚˚

Bettina had lost Singer in the confusion of parents and kids outside the entrance to Santaland.

She had dashed upstairs and gone to the one place in the store she thought she could be alone and safe in public.

Now she sat with a glass of milk, at a window table of the employee cafeteria on twelve.

There were few people around this time of the afternoon, and most of them sat singly at scattered tables. She supposed they all appeared beleaguered, and comprehended how break time on the day before Christmas Eve would mean shell-shocked staff.

Motion and suppressed giggles drew her attention.

In another moment, Lorna slid into the seat across from her. She was still in full makeup and costume, and the older woman carefully removed her straw hat. She placed it on the table, next to Bet's untouched milk, and the girl idly watched the spring-stemmed daisy wink and nod.

"Did Singer send you?"

"No, Bet. I came on my own. I guessed you'd be here."

"Oh Lorna, it was horrible."

She reached out and patted the girl's hands. "It's all right," Lorna said through a sigh. "We can't put the genie back in the bottle."

"So, you've known this whole time he's drug me around to show her what an upstanding father he's been?"

"I… I suspected it, Bet. But it doesn't change the fact that he loves you."

"If he does love me, then he'll want me to be happy."

"He does, and he will. I know he'll accept Glen, but it may take a little time."

"Time is the one thing we don't have, Lorna. I think tomorrow, after Santaland closes, he'll get the boys to take Glen to the train station and make sure he leaves without me."

"It's all right, Bet. We won't let that happen."

"We?"

"Yes." Lorna glanced over her shoulder towards the café doors.

To Bet's great surprise, Lawrie was walking towards them; he too was in full makeup and costume, and he had his satin Ringleader's top hat in his hands. The young man sidled up to their table and into the chair next to Lorna. His elegant headgear came to rest next to Lorna's more rustic example with the bobbing daisy.

"You're willing to help me, Lawrie?" Bettina Martin almost couldn't believe it.

The young man nodded.

"Even though I broke your heart?"

He nodded again, and Lorna placed her arm around him. The older woman said in both admiration and disbelief: "You can't pick who you love, and you can't choose someone you don’t. So, what'cha gonna do about it? Nothing, that's what. My advice to you, Lawrie, is wait. Someone real special and real nice will be picking you soon enough."

That made the boy smile, and Bet felt a million pounds lift off her shoulders.

Lorna turned to Bet. "Look, so Lawrie and me and Alden have an idea to help you and Glen escape, if that's what you really want."

Bettina slowly lifted her eyes. "I'm going to be with him one way or the other, so yes – please help us."

"All right, darling. Don’t you worry; I have a plan. Now, come on, dry your tears. We have to go find Alden and Lowell, and…" She offered up a small chuckle. "I bet we'll find them together."