Disclaimer: Remember WENN and all characters belong to Rupert Holmes.
Coming Home
By Angela Tircuit
"Betty, Betty, Bet..." Scott stopped his usual greeting abruptly as he saw Betty sitting at her typewriter. Her face was burried in her hands and her shoulders shook with sobs. He hadn't seen her this upset since Victor's death. He looked at the letter that was lying opened on her desk. Two words stood out, "father, died."
He hesitated about putting his arm around her. Ever since she found out about his forging Victor's signature their relationship had been distant. Now that he was merely an actor, it had been better, but he still didn't know if she would accept his comfort. Still, comfort was what she needed. She stiffened for a second, then relaxed in his arms. After a few minutes, she pulled away and wiped her eyes.
"My mother said it was a heart attack. The funeral is Thursday. That gives me three days to get a plane back to Elkhart. I have enough scripts written to last a week, so you and the rest of the cast will do fine without me. I'll just tell Mr. Pruitt." She was all business, just the way she had been when they had first heard about Victor's death. It worried Scott then, and it worried him now.
"Hey, could you use some company? I'm sure Mackie could take over my roles. And it would make Pruitt happy to get me out of the station for a while."
Betty looked at him in surprise. "Thanks, Scott, but that's not necessary. I'll be fine."
"Betty Roberts, you will not be fine," Scott spoke seriously. "Come on, we'll talk to Pruitt."
*****
Her mother hadn't said a word when she walked up the front porch. Just hugged her tight. Betty had started to walk inside when her mother called her back."You aren't going to leave your friend, are you?"
Scott! She had forgotten he was there. He was standing on the bottom step. "Mother, this is Scott Sherwood, an actor at WENN."
"Hello, Mrs. Roberts. Betty is a ...friend, and when I heard the news about her father, I thought she should have someone with her when she came home. I'm very sorry."
"Thank you, young man. Won't you come inside?" Mrs. Roberts held the door open.
All of Betty's relatives were there. The atmosphere was unusual. Half the time, people were consoling her, and the other half they were questioning her about how it was to work at a radio station. Her head began to pound. She excused herself and went to her old room.
Hours later, she went back into the living room. Her mother was alone, drinking a cup of tea. She beckoned Betty to join her.
"Where's Scott?" Betty asked, sitting down.
"He's going to stay at Aunt Ruth's house. I told him he could stay in your brother's room, but he thought we'd like to be alone. He seems like a nice boy."
Betty almost choked at the idea of anyone calling Scott Sherwood a 'nice boy'. She wondered what her mother would say if she knew of some of Scott's cons.
"The two of you aren't..." Mrs. Roberts left the question trail hopefully.
"No, we aren't."
"Well, you can't mourn Victor Comstock forever, dear. And I can tell this Scott really cares for you."
Betty stiffened. What did her mother know about it? For that matter, what did anyone know about it? The lies and deceptions, on her part as well as Scott's. It was getting harder and harder to pretend Victor was still dead. And why were they even discussing something like this when her father had just died? "I think I'll go back to bed. Goodnight, Mother." She kissed her mother and left.