He thanked me for helping with Betsy's things, and we brought them all into the house and up to her room. Some of the clothing we simply laid over the bed.
"We'll just leave it all like that," Mr. Fletcher said. "It's her job to put her things away. That goes for unpacking the boxes as well."
When the boxes were placed on the floor. I could see their contents. One box contained her undergarments and another was filled with blouses. Another had a few bathing suits.
"She doesn't throw anything away or give anything away,' Mr. Fletcher commented when he saw how closely I was looking at it all. "Charity is a curse word to Betsy. God forbid she think of someone beside herself."
After I finished bringing things up with him, he took a walk with Mama and Baby Celeste. He had a late shift at the drugstore so he left soon afterward. After dinner, after Baby Celeste had been put to bed and Mama had retired to her bedroom. I thought about Betsy's things. I couldn't help it.
As quietly as I could, I went to her bedroom and looked at the clothing we had placed an the bed. Going to the boxes. I sifted through the
undergarments, the bathing suits, and other things. Her clothing was of course quite different from Mama's. Mama didn't have skirts as short or skirts with slits an the side. I never saw Mama in a twopiece bathing suit, and she certainly didn't have such sexy, abbreviated panties or sexy bras.
I found an outfit I recalled Betsy wearing that first night when I'd played Peeping Tom and looked in at her, Elliot, and Mr. Fletcher. This was shortly after they had moved into the old Baer property. For years people believed Mr. Baer had something to do with my disappearance, and the nasty rumors and innuendos finally drove him to sell at almost any price.
I watched them having their dinner. Betsy wore this black-and-red-pinstripe, short- sleeve blouse with a black tie tied loosely around an open collar and a pair of matching black-and-pinstripe pants. I thought she looked more like a boy than I did except that her cleavage was prominent in the opened blouse and her hair was beautifully brushed down about her shoulders. Something about the clothing was fascinating, the way it turned out to be feminine. Was it only because she wore it?
Seeing this outfit again and recalling how she had looked awakened my interest in myself, in the me buried inside. What would I look like in it? I didn't have as big a bosom as she did. but I was as tall as she was. The pants would fit. Somehow, looking at her things-- her bra, her panties, all of her clothes-- like this was just like being a Peeping Tom again. It stirred me in places I had always tried to keep still.
Betsy couldn't possibly remember everything she had. I thought, In an impulsive rush, I scooped up one of her pairs of black, sexy panties and with the pin-stripe outfit in hand went to the door of her room, paused to be sure Mama was still in her bedroom, then tiptoed as softly as I could up the small stairway to the turret room. Once there, I closed the door softly. My heart was pounding.
Enough moonlight was coming through the windows to illuminate the room. but I knew one table lamp also worked. Under the subdued light in front of one of the antique-framed, full-length minors. I slowly began to take off my clothes. At one point I thought I heard the sound of footsteps on the small stairway and I froze to listen. The house creaked as it often did. but I heard nothing else and released my trapped, hot breath.
I took off the boy's briefs and put on Betsy's sexy panties. They were a little big, but the sight of myself in them fascinated me. They made my rear end feminine and my tight, hard legs somehow softer, more curvy than I had imagined they were. I turned and looked at myself from all angles before putting on the pin-striped pants and the blouse. I left it
unbuttoned just the way I remembered she had. The blouse was also too big, but not terribly so. The pants fit well enough. Then I tied the black tie loosely around my collar and gazed at myself. Was I as interesting, as fashionable, as sexy, and as attractive as Betsy had been? Even thinking the word sexy made me shudder. For a long moment I stared at the sight of my cleavage. My breasts were perky. firm, Surely. I thought. I was more beautiful than she was Young men would look my way faster than they would look hers.
I smiled to myself. 'Wouldn't it be wonderful to show her up someday? How quickly that smug arrogance would pour off her face. She would go and crawl up into a ball in some corner and she would deserve it. How many people had she hurt, driven to tears? Wasn't she trying to do it to me?
The definite sound of footsteps below sent me into a panic. I undressed as fast as I could, and as quietly as possible. I put on my own things again. Then I waited and listened. Hearing nothing. I went to the top of the small stairway. Sounds were coming from below. Mama was downstairs. I took advantage of the opportunity and quickly descended. I went to my own room and I shoved Betsy's things under an old suitcase on the floor of my closet. Then I undressed again and got into bed. And not a moment too soon. either.
Mama was at my door, white candle lit and in a holder in her hand.
"Are you asleep?"
I pretended I was, but it was always hard to pretend around Mama. "You're not asleep. Noble, so stop acting like you art."
I turned and sat up. "What is it?"
"Something woke me. Something isn't right," She walked farther into my room. She lifted the candle so that the light from it would wash over the walls, into every corner and finally over me. "Do you feel it?"
My heart began to pound again. What should I say? Did some spirit tell her what I had done?
"No," I said. ``I was falling asleep."
"But you weren't asleep. Something kept you awake. Well?" she demanded. "I was just..."
"Just what?"
"Worrying."
"About what?"
"Betsy makes me nervous." That softened her shoulders. She lowered the candle and the shadow hooded my face.
"Oh. Yes, She could make anyone into a nervous wreck. She's done quite a job on her father. But I told you. She won't be a problem."
"She thinks you put a spell on her father." I thought that if Mama heard that, perhaps she would not be so eager to go through with the marriage. It would at least take her attention off me.