The Sheltered Life of Betsy Parker

by E. David Hopkins

  The Sheltered Life of Betsy Parker

  ISBN-13: 978-1507500392

  ISBN-10: 1507500394

  Publisher: CreateSpace, 2016

  Cover design by Gourav Shah, with title words edited by Ted Hopkins

  © E. David Hopkins

  To Ted, Tina and Angela

  To James, Garth and Stephen

  To all the loving people in my naturist community

  To Gareth and Zoe

  To Marisa, Darrell, Devyn, Richard and Olivia

  To Jim and Cathy

  To Darren Groth, a local author, who served as a valuable helper to make this book publishable

  Table of Contents

  1 A Late-summer Romance 1

  2 The Rash 5

  3 A Unique Diagnosis 10

  4 A Happy Bath 19

  5 The Love of Christmas 23

  6 Backyard Freedom and a Second Blessing 30

  7 The Teaching Begins 37

  8 Betsy Learns the Truth 49

  9 A New Future for the Parkers 57

  10 Betsy's Big Adventure 73

  11 Betsy's Grown-up Home 87

  12 A Bold Decision 97

  13 Betsy Speaks her Voice 103

  14 A Happy Meeting 110

  15 Mark's Adventure 118

  16 A Rude Awakening 131

  17 A New Way of Life for Mark 137

  18 The Art Sale 152

  19 Mark's Proposal 160

  20 A Joyous Celebration 170

  21 One Last Decision 178

  22 The Walk 189

  23 A Comforting Message 197

  24 A Comforting Place 204

  Afterword 216

  1 A Late-Summer Romance

  It was August 31. Carl Parker was sitting under a big Beech Tree, in Lilly Park, in a town called Meriton, soaking up the late-summer sunshine. The warm air was carrying the first mellow tinge of autumn, swaying a few leaves on the tree, and caressing Carl in a loving, tender, natural embrace.

  As Carl relaxed in the sun, he was thinking about what the finest attire could be that would attract a woman. He had always felt nervous around women. Every time Carl had met someone with whom he felt he could build a relationship, he had never felt the confidence, nor the readiness to proceed.

  As Carl was focussing on the current trend, trying to think of the optimum suit that would please a woman, he heard someone sit down at the other side of the tree and he jumped to his feet with a start.

  “No need to be scared,” a voice replied with a chuckle. It was a female's voice; a young woman, about Carl's age.

  Carl turned to the other side of the tree, and found an attractive girl sitting just as he had been, gazing up into the leaves of the tree.

  Carl didn't know how to respond. “Hi there,” he smiled sort of timidly. “Beautiful day isn't it? Not going to be many more like them. Might as well enjoy the last bit of summer while you can.”

  “Oh, don't be so negative. It's still August,” the girl commented. “We've got a good few weeks of warm weather ahead of us. Besides, summer always comes around every year. It's not like it's the last summer on the face of the Earth.”

  “I know,” Carl chuckled, “but summer always takes forever to come around again. What brings you out?”

  “It was just such a mellow, warm day, I had to catch the sun's rays,” she paused, “under this gorgeous Beech Tree.”

  “That's just how I feel,” Carl replied. “Do you consider yourself into fashion?”

  “No!” Carl thought. “There I go again; asking another personal question to someone I don't even know.”

  However, much to Carl's relief, the girl answered with a sincere smile. “Well, I don't give a whole lot of thought about fashion, but I do enjoy the classy dress now and again.”

  “I'm not really a fashion guy,” Carl grinned sheepishly. “I was just hoping to know what the current trend was. Just my curiosity I suppose.”

  “Well, I wouldn't dwell too much on it,” the girl chuckled. “Name's Megan, by the way. Megan Willow. How do you like that?”

  “I'm Carl ... Carl Parker,” Carl replied.

  Carl Parker had always thought his name, particularly his first and last name together, sounded rather odd. Therefore, he rarely introduced himself to anyone as “Carl Parker” and had taken to introducing himself as simply “Carl,” but this girl seemed so happy and kind that Carl saw it fit to introduce himself by both his first and last name.

  “I like that,” Megan smiled, “Carl Parker,” she whispered to herself.

  Carl was pleased at how sincere Megan's tone was. He turned to Megan and asked, “Hey, can we go grab dinner at Nico the Greek?”

  “I would love that,” Megan nodded.

  ***

  From then on, a whirlwind romance developed. That one simple date turned into more conversation, which turned into more dates, which turned into the two seeing each other almost all the time, which turned into marriage, on August 31, exactly one year after they had met under the tree.

  On their second wedding anniversary, Carl and Megan were enjoying a sumptuous meal at that same Greek restaurant where they'd eaten that first dinner on the day they'd met. Carl was eating chicken souvlaki with rice, and Megan was enjoying moussaka.

  Not only were they enjoying their favorite dinner on their second wedding anniversary, they were also expecting their first child. Megan was due to give birth in four-and-a-half months.

  “What will her name be?” Megan smiled to her husband.

  “What makes you think it will be a girl?” Carl chuckled. “It's got just as good a chance to be a boy.”

  “Oh I don't know. I'm the mother and I can feel it. So, what should we name her?”

  “How about Anne, or Susan, or Judith?” Carl suggested.

  “Oh no!” Megan cried. “Nothing like that. A girl should have a name that carries dignity, that sounds sweet, that feels pleasant and soft on the tongue.”

  Megan paused in thought for a few moments before she spoke again.

  “I have always adored the name 'Elizabeth' but it's not used so much nowadays. Seems a terrible shame.”

  “Then why don't we name her 'Elizabeth?'” Carl asked, but his wife wasn't really listening anymore. She was off in her own world savoring this sweet name she had in her head.

  “And you know what else?” she continued. “There are so many fascinating ways to abbreviate Elizabeth; I suspect more than any other name in the world: there's Liz, Lizzy, Eliza, Tess, Tessa, Beth, Bess, Bessie, Betty and,” she paused again “Betsy, such a cool combination of those last two.”

  “So you want to name our daughter Betsy?” Carl asked dumbfounded. He didn't think 'Betsy' sounded any more dignified, sweet or princessly than any of the names he had suggested. “That is if our baby is even a daughter at all.”

  “Sure I do. Betsy Parker. That sounds grand, doesn't it?”

  “I suppose it does,” Carl smiled. He was surprised that his wife had settled on a name so quickly, one he thought he'd have never considered even if he'd had a lifetime to think about it, but he decided that 'Betsy Parker' had a fine ring to it all the same. “Very well. We will name our baby Betsy then.”

  Then, Carl paused in thought, “And what if it happens to be a boy?”

  Megan looked pensive for a moment, and made a sigh as though she had been beaten at her own game. Then, her expression turned into a joyous, laughing smile once again.

  “I thought up a good girl's name; I will leave you to think up a good boy's name,” Megan beamed at her husband.

  “I will do that,” Carl smiled, as they polished off their dinners.

  2 The Rash

  On January 16, at fo
ur o'clock in the morning, Megan Parker went into labor. Her husband drove her to the hospital, and, three hours later, she gave birth to a baby girl.

  “There you go, Megan,” the nurse smiled as he handed Megan her baby, wrapped in a pink cloth. “You have been blessed with a healthy, beautiful baby girl.”

  “Well blow me down,” Carl breathed in awe. “You were right Megan. It's a girl. Betsy Parker it is.”

  The couple gazed at their new daughter in amazement and admiration. She had some strands of light blonde hair, and she already looked happy, eager, and ready to live a full life. Both her parents were delighted, but nervous as well, as they had never raised a child before.

  “I'm happy it's a girl,” Megan smiled, “but I'm even more happy that it's healthy.”

  “Boy, girl, healthy or unhealthy, it's a blessing all the same,” Carl replied in awe, “Just as long as she lives her life as a caring, wonderful person.”

  “I couldn't have said it better,” smiled Megan.

  “We'll keep her in the hospital for a few days,” said nurse Ken Reynolds, “This is just to look after her while she is in her first days, and make sure nothing unusual develops.”

  The first two days of Betsy's life at the hospital passed swimmingly. She was a happy, calm, bright-eyed baby who rarely cried, and Megan was able to breastfeed Betsy well.

  On January 18, the couple were able to bring their new daughter home, where they already had a crib, yellow wallpaper, an airplane mobile, diapers, and a wide assortment of clothes set up for her.

  For the first month of Betsy's life, the couple looked after their daughter like any parents do. She couldn't play yet, but she looked around at people and objects. By day, her parents watched over her, changed her diapers, and her mother breastfed her. By night, her parents bathed her, and put her to bed in her crib. The care they provided for Betsy was becoming a daily routine. Both her parents longed for and anticipated the days when Betsy would be able to laugh, walk, talk, play, watch fun TV shows, meet other children, and take part in so many childhood activities.

  On March 1, when Betsy was a month-and-a-half old, her parents woke up in the night to their daughter crying.

  “Oh, she just needs her diaper changing. I'll take care of it Megan,” mumbled Carl, as he stumbled out of bed.

  He made his way into Betsy's room, where the baby was indeed upset about something. Carl picked Betsy up, and looked her over. Then, he checked under Betsy's diaper.

  “Oh dear,” he breathed, “It's diaper rash. I'll go grab the anti-rash cream.”

  Carl took Betsy to the bathroom, and applied the cream.

  “There you go,” he assured the infant, “it will soon feel better.”

  He carried Betsy back to her crib, and put her under the sheets.

  “I think I'd better keep an eye on her for the next little while till she settles down,” thought Carl.

  As Carl watched over his daughter, he was starting to sense that something was wrong. Betsy's crying wasn't going away. If anything, it was getting worse. He picked Betsy up, and checked the rash once more. It was more angry than before, and was starting to spread. He hurried and got Megan.

  “Something's happening,” Carl told Megan. “I think Betsy might be sick.”

  Megan got out of bed. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked.

  “This 'diaper rash' I mentioned is getting angrier and is starting to spread.”

  When both parents arrived at Betsy's crib, something was definitely wrong. Betsy's crying was louder, enough to make her parents have to cover their ears, and the rash had spread over her chest, abdomen and legs.

  “I think it's chickenpox,” Megan cried out, petrified. “We have to take her to the hospital now.”

  “If it were chickenpox, she would have a fever,” Carl insisted. He felt Betsy's forehead. “Her temperature is normal.”

  “We're taking her to the hospital,” Megan insisted, “chickenpox or not, there is something very wrong with her.”

  The parents bundled into the car and put Betsy in her car seat. Then, they drove her to the hospital. When they arrived, the triage nurse looked across her desk at the parents and the crying baby.

  “So what seems to be the problem?” she asked.

  “Betsy woke up with a rash,” Carl told her. “I thought it was diaper rash; we treated it, but the rash didn't go away. It's spread over most of Betsy's body. Is it chickenpox? Will she need to be kept in isolation?”

  “Take a seat in the waiting room,” the triage nurse replied. “A doctor will be with you shortly.”

  After an intense stay in the waiting room, Carl and Megan heard footsteps approaching.

  “Hey there,” a voice called out. Carl and Megan looked towards the voice. A doctor had arrived. “My name is Dr. Derek Crown. Come with me. We will see what's wrong with Betsy.”

  The couple followed the doctor down the hall, into a hospital room. Upon arriving at this room, the doctor laid Betsy on a bed. He looked the baby over.

  “It's not chickenpox,” he observed, “and it's nothing else viral either, or bacterial for that matter. It appears to be an allergic reaction.”

  “But what could Betsy be allergic to?” Megan cried. “Whatever it is, we are getting rid of it, once and for all.”

  “You say it started under the diaper, and it looked like diaper rash?”

  “Yes,” Carl acknowledged.

  “And when you applied cream, the rash didn't go away?”

  “No, it didn't.”

  “Then,” the doctor paused, “if it started under the diaper, and cream didn't help, and this appears to be an allergic reaction then, maybe, just maybe, she's allergic to the diaper itself. Would you mind if I take her diaper off?”

  “Go ahead,” Carl assured him, “anything that would make Betsy better.”

  The doctor undid the velcro and removed the diaper. Then, he looked the diaper over.

  “It appears to be made of cotton,” he observed. “Some people are allergic to cotton. Your baby must have a cotton allergy. From now on, I would recommend using plastic diapers.”

  “She has always been wearing cotton diapers,” Carl said, “and it's never been a problem up until now.”

  “Well, sometimes allergies take a long time to develop.”

  Within the next few hours, Betsy was making a stunning recovery. However, the parents and the doctor noticed one peculiarity. Underneath Betsy's shirt, the rash lingered, and this irritated the baby. It wasn't particularly threatening to Betsy's health but it concerned her parents.

  “Could she be allergic to her shirt too?” Carl asked dumbfounded.

  “Maybe,” the doctor replied.

  Carl removed Betsy's shirt, leaving their baby naked on the hospital bed.

  In another hour, the rash was gone completely and Betsy had returned to normal.

  “Thank you!” Megan cried. “But what should our daughter wear?”

  “Give her plastic diapers,” the doctor said, “and here.”

  The doctor whipped out a slip of paper and scribbled something on it.

  “This is an antihistamine cream. Use it on your daughter right away if ever there is a similar reaction in the future. She should be fine wearing the kinds of shirts that she does now, as long as you use this cream, but I urge you to no longer use any cotton on her. Just pick up the prescription from the pharmacy first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Megan smiled at the doctor.

  ***

  The first thing, the next morning, when the stores were opening, Carl drove into town and bought a box of plastic diapers for Betsy, and the cream the doctor had prescribed. He put a diaper on Betsy, put the cream on her chest, and put her shirt back on.

  Happy and relieved, Carl and Megan smiled at their daughter that she was healthy once again.

  3 A Unique Diagnosis

  From that night on, Betsy was healthy; for the next seven-and-a-half months at least. Carl and Megan put
the cream on her, dressed her in plastic diapers, and marvelled at how well and happy Betsy was.

  And then, one night in the middle of October, when Betsy was nine months old, Carl and Megan were startled awake by screaming. It was worse than before and terrified the life out of Carl and Megan. They burst of out bed and hurried into Betsy's room.

  “What's happening?!” Carl cried flabbergasted, picking up his daughter.

  Underneath Betsy's diaper, and under her shirt was the most glaring rash her parents had ever seen. Betsy's crying was accompanied by wheezing and gurgling noises.

  “We have to call an ambulance!” cried Megan. “You watch Betsy. I'm getting to the phone now!”

  Megan sprinted out of Betsy's room, picked up the phone and dialled 911. “Please dispatch an ambulance!” Megan cried over the phone. “My address is 9635 82 Street” She threw the phone back into the holder.

  Megan ran back into Betsy's room. By now, the girl had vomited!

  “Get her clothes off!” Megan cried.

  “What?” cried Carl. Then, a morbid thought raced across his mind. This was no ordinary baby; he could feel it. He then muttered, “Oh!” He turned back to his wife, but she was already removing Betsy's diaper and shirt.

  Then, they looked at their daughter, who was swollen all over and had all sorts of hideous colors. Her skin looked like that of an alien from some exotic planet. On the spot, Betsy vomited again.

  “I put her antihistamine lotion on before we put her to bed, I really did,” Carl told his wife.

  “I know you did dear. I saw you do it. I was there too.”

  There came a knock at the door. Carl ran over and answered it. Outside was an ambulance and two paramedics.

  “Come with us, all of you,” one of the medics told the Parkers. “We will take you and your baby to the hospital.”

  The medics took Betsy to the ambulance. After they had loaded Betsy inside, the parents sat in the back seat. Then, they departed.