The Sheltered Life of Betsy Parker

by E. David Hopkins

  “This will be such a treasure,” Douglas smiled. “I will go right home, and put this on my mantelpiece. Thank you. I will treasure it forever.”

  “Thank you for your interest,” Mark smiled, as Douglas stepped away from the table. “I am so thankful you appreciate Betsy's artwork.”

  After another eight-minute wait, a mother with two children, an older girl and a younger boy, showed up. The mother noticed the signature.

  “Betsy made these?” the mother cried, amazed.

  “She sure did,” Mark smiled, “and I'm selling them to anyone who wants to buy them.”

  “Michelle, Craig,” she said to her children, “which one do you like the most?”

  “I like the butterfly one,” the girl, whom the mother had addressed as Michelle, smiled.

  “The sunset one is really cool,” the boy, Craig, grinned.

  “You know,” the mother smiled to Mark. “I think we'll buy both.”

  “Sure thing,” Mark grinned. He took the fifty the mother handed them, and gave her both drawings.

  From then on, Mark's table was wild with customers. There were ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls coming from everywhere to buy a drawing. Eventually, it got to a point where there was a line-up, and, about two hours after Mark had set up his table, he sold out.

  Mark was ecstatic. He folded the table back up, spread his arms wide and cheered.

  “Oh Betsy!” he cried, still at his sales site, even though Betsy wasn't there to hear him. “We did it! You're a success Betsy! The whole town loves you!”

  Mark was so cheerful and excited that he ran back to Sunny Palms, even though he was carrying the heavy, wooden table. When he got to the gate, Susan let him back in. He put the table down in the entrance, and ran across the grounds to meet Betsy.

  “Mark!” she cried. “You're back early. By the way you're acting, it must have gone well.”

  “Betsy!” he cried. “It's Christmas! It went better than well! Everything went, Betsy. I sold everything!”

  Betsy's smile broke into a laugh. “Everything Mark? You sold everything? On only our first day? Mark, that's ... fantastic!”

  “What do you want to do now, Betsy? Anything you want. You deserve it.”

  “Let's go for a walk in the woods,” Betsy replied. “It's so peaceful there, and you deserve some rest, peace and quiet after all you've done.”

  And so, Mark and Betsy took a walk in the woods. It was peaceful for both of them. The shaded air was cool and the ground was soft.

  “Whatever I make from my art, we will donate half the proceedings to charity,” Betsy beamed.

  Mark smiled back at her. “Of course we will,” he grinned. “I'm proud of how generous you are.”

  When Mark and Betsy stepped out of Sunny Palms' forest, back into the open lawn once again, Catherine was waiting for Betsy, and smiling.

  “Betsy,” Catherine grinned, her blue eyes shining in the late-afternoon sun. “I am so proud of you, selling so much of your work on your first day. Please come with me. Someone has arrived, who would like to meet you.”

  Betsy and Mark followed Catherine to the office, where a man was waiting, whom Mark recognized right away.

  “Douglas!” Mark cried out. “You're here! How do you like this place?”

  “I just came to give my congratulations to the real artist,” Douglas smiled.

  Betsy stepped forward. “I am Betsy,” she explained. “I created that art work. Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” he beamed, in a smile of pure delight and admiration. “Betsy Parker, I love it. My name is Douglas, by the way. I was one of Mark's customers.”

  “The first one,” Mark explained. “He bought your duck.”

  “And it was an awesome duck,” Douglas nodded. “Betsy, you captured everything in that picture. You could become the next Picasso, really.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, “no one has ever given me this much appreciation for something I did, ever. I'm not even sure what to make of it.”

  “Ah,” Douglas smiled at Betsy, looking her in the eyes, “You did a wonderful job, and that is all that matters. Keep up the good work.”

  “So how long are you down here for?” asked Mark.

  “Just until this evening,” Douglas replied. “I've never been to a place like this before, and I thought I'd start out with a brief visit, just to try it out, and meet the artist in person.”

  “Well thank you for buying my picture. I'm glad you like it,” replied Betsy, with a humble smile.

  “Thank you for making it, Betsy,” Douglas continued. “I'll be going back to my tent now. Nice talking to you.”

  And the man departed.

  “Such a nice man,” Mark beamed, “well all the people at the sale were nice. Things are getting better for you, Betsy. I can feel it.”

  “I can feel it to,” Betsy replied. “Come on Mark, after this successful day, I think I'm about ready to set up my website.”

  “You bet, Betsy,” Mark grinned. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

  19 Mark's Proposal

  Douglas was the only person from the sale that came to Sunny Palms that day. Betsy felt it was just as well. She, and the other campers, didn't want to be bothered by a swarm of new people entering the grounds all in one day. Mark had studied computer science in school. He had learned basic programming and how to set up a website. His first step was to choose a background for the site.

  “I think I'd like a lush meadow background, with a lake and a waterfall,” smiled Betsy.

  Mark skimmed through the kinds of site designs available, and found just the one Betsy requested. Mark installed it on the screen, created the URL www.theworldintheeyesofbetsy.com and uploaded the photographs of the many works of art Betsy had created. He and Betsy negotiated pricing for every work, and Mark added the price to the website.

  When the website was complete, Betsy and Mark were overjoyed.

  “What do you think?” Mark asked. “Do you like it?”

  “It's amazing!” Betsy cried. “Thank you so much.”

  “When you create a new work, just click on this pencil icon to upload it,” Mark explained, “and this dollar-sign to add a price.”

  Then, Mark's expression turned clouded.

  “What's wrong?” Betsy asked him.

  “Betsy,” he sighed. “I'm going to be graduating from high school at the end of this year, and I don't want you to miss it. It's not going to be a happy graduation if you're not there. You had to miss your own graduation. I don't want you to have to miss mine.”

  “Mark,” Betsy sighed, “don't worry about me. You'll have a good time, and I'm sure there will be loads of pictures. We can look at them together when you come home, and we'll think happy thoughts then.”

  “But it won't be the same,” Mark continued. “I won't have a date, Betsy. The only person I would ever ask on a date for my grad is you, but grad's at school, and you're here, and I would never be accepted with you, you and I walking down the red carpet together. Betsy, there is no one else I would go with. No one.”

  Betsy looked Mark in the eyes. A little endearing laugh crossed her face. “Mark,” Betsy smiled, “you love me, don't you?”

  Mark looked back at her and nodded. “I love you, Betsy; with all my heart, with all the world, with everything.”

  “I've always known that,” Betsy grinned.

  “So have I,” Mark admitted.

  Betsy sighed and looked thoughtfully at Mark. “Maybe the day after your grad, we could celebrate your finishing high school right here, on our own.”

  “I will be satisfied with that,” Mark replied, although he wasn't certain he really would be. “It won't be the same as having you with me for the real thing, but as long as I can celebrate with you in some form, I will be happy.”

  The next weekend, Mark sold more of Betsy's art. These pictures at Mark's sales table included colored pencil drawings, pastel drawings, and watercolor paintings. Betsy had made more than what she had pr
eviously made, so the sale went on for longer. Still, her pictures were so popular that, once again, there was a line-up.

  An hour or so into the sale, Mark was startled by a couple who caught his eyes in a very strange way. They looked like people he knew from somewhere, but he couldn't think where, and he couldn't take his eyes off their faces. In fact, the more he looked, the more resemblance he saw to Betsy. In between them was a teenage girl, who looked similar to Betsy too.

  On the spur of the moment, Mark took note of what he was doing. “Sorry,” he said, “I shouldn't have done that. It's rude to stare. I just, feel like I know you.”

  “You do?” asked the woman of the pair. “I'm not sure we know you. My name is Megan Parker. We flew down for our daughter's art sale.”

  Mark's mouth dropped wide open. “You're Betsy's parents?” he cried. “Wow! It's a real pleasure to meet you. Anything you want, I'll let you have it for half-price.”

  “There's no need,” explained the father. “As long as it's our daughter's, we'll gladly take anything for full price. My name's Carl, by the way.”

  For the moment, Mark forgot that he was supposed to be selling and proceeded to introduce himself to Betsy's parents. “I'm Mark,” he explained, “Mark Turner. I'm Betsy's friend, and sales partner.”

  “Well, congratulations Mark!” Megan cried in delight. “I'm so delighted that Betsy has made a friend close enough to her to sell for her. It's a shame she can't come out here and sell her work herself.”

  “Mom!” the girl in between them cried. “Please don't be an embarrassment. I would be mortified if Betsy came out here.”

  “That must be Laura,” Mark commented.

  “She is,” smiled Megan.

  Laura blushed.

  “Come on, sweetheart. This is your sister's art. Aren't you proud of her?”

  “It's nice,” Laura said casually.

  “How long are you down for?” Mark asked.

  “Us? Oh Mark, we've moved. We're here to stay,” Carl explained. “When we heard our daughter was an artist, we were so elated that we wanted to stay by her side, unceasingly, and support her.”

  “Here to stay?” Mark asked, intrigued. “Will you be coming to Sunny Palms? I'm sure Betsy is missing you.”

  “NO!!!” Laura hollered.

  Megan chuckled. “Not with Laura anyway. We'll definitely be coming down in the near future. I think Laura's grown up enough she can look after herself for a while. Betsy doesn't know we've come down here. I think we'll arrange a visit with the manager, then pop in and surprise Betsy. Please don't say anything to her until then, Mark. I'd really prefer it to be a surprise.”

  “Okay,” Mark said. “My lips are sealed. Anyway, what would you like to buy?”

  “I think I'll buy this pretty little robin right here,” Carl smiled.

  “I'll take the flowerbed,” beamed Megan. Then, she turned to her younger daughter. “Anything for you, Laura?”

  Laura sighed. She looked around at the drawings.

  “The thorn bush,” Laura muttered at last. “I'll take the thorn bush.”

  It was a pretty drawing, just like all of Betsy's, but not one of her more attractive ones. Betsy had drawn it because she thought it looked beautiful. It was a plant in the garden, just outside Betsy's cabin, surrounded by many other beautiful, colorful, non-thorny plants. Still, Betsy had drawn every plant in that garden as individual pictures, as well as one picture of the garden as a whole. Although Betsy was now a successful artist, she was still an excluded girl in the human race, and she did not want to exclude anything in nature. Therefore, she had drawn the thorn bush, as an equal plant to all the others.

  “Laura,” her mother assured her, “there are so many other wonderful pictures here; why take the thorn bush?”

  “Because it's the one I want,” Laura insisted.

  “All right, Laura,” Mark smiled, and handed Laura the thorn bush.

  The Parkers paid, smiled at Mark one last time, and moved on until they were out of sight.

  Mark and Betsy's sales pitch was a success, but it was not perfect. Mark had one customer come forward with a sinister, accusatory expression.

  “This is your art, isn't it?” he grumbled.

  “No,” Mark explained, “this is Betsy's art, and I am proud of her for making it.”

  “No!” the man insisted, “It's your art. You made all this, Mark. You're only selling it under Betsy's name to draw attention to her.”

  “What the?” Mark cried, “are you calling me a fraud? For your information, if I had made work of this quality, I would be far too proud of it to sell it under anyone else's name. You're not a customer; you're a naysayer. Next!” Mark called to the people behind the man.

  ***

  Later that day, at the resort, Mark and Betsy were relaxing in Betsy's pool. Catherine approached Betsy, “You have some visitors dear,” she smiled.

  Betsy looked over her shoulder.

  “Mom! Dad!” she screamed, and, in a great splash, dashed out of her pool and ran up to her parents.

  “There you are, my darling,” Megan cried, “We are so happy to see you, and we're so proud of you too. Congratulations on becoming such a success.”

  “I'm only half the success. I draw; Mark sells everything.”

  “So I've heard,” Betsy's mother beamed at both Mark and Betsy.

  “Still no Laura?” Betsy asked.

  “No,” Carl replied. “I'm sorry Betsy, but I don't think you're going to see anything of Laura again. She's a sweet kid, she really is, but she's shy, and very conformist. She doesn't want to risk sticking out like a sore thumb.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Betsy sighed. “How is Laura doing?”

  “She's doing well in school,” Carl informed Betsy. “She had a boyfriend from her home high school that she really misses because of the move.”

  “Boyfriend? Home high school? Mom! Dad! What do you mean?”

  “We've moved,” explained Betsy's mother. “We have decided to come and live with you, Betsy. We love you too much to let you go. We are so inspired by your work.”

  “Poor Laura,” Betsy cried, “you took her away from her boyfriend? Don't you think that was rather harsh?”

  “Can't say it was an easy choice,” Carl explained, “but it was either stay at our old home for Laura's sake, or come here for yours. I'm not saying that you're our pet, Betsy. We love Laura just as much as we love you, but the relationship was breaking up already. We knew it wasn't going to last, and Laura didn't think so either. We felt you were the one more in need of familial companionship. Laura still misses her boyfriend, Carlos, but they keep in touch as pen-pals, and the relationship has dropped to a casual friendship.”

  “This is so wrong!” Betsy protested. “How could you do this? There was enough distance between me and Laura already, without you taking her away from the boy she loved for my sake and making it worse.”

  “Betsy!” cried her father, “she didn't love him. Even Laura is getting over it now. Please try to do the same.”

  “Excuse me,” said Betsy, “I have some drawing to do.”

  She departed from the pool.

  When Betsy arrived at her house, she took her notepad and some colored pencils, and set herself to work on a drawing. She locked the door and drew continuously for three hours. The end result was a drawing of Mark, in a tuxedo, herself in her birthday suit, herself and Mark holding hands, walking down the red carpet at Mark's graduation. All the people on Mark's side of the walk were shocked and furious, while all the people on Betsy's side were happy, jubilant, and cheering for Mark and Betsy.

  When Betsy finished this picture, she ripped its page out of her note pad, slammed the notepad shut, shut the one page containing the picture in her bedside drawer, and locked the drawer.

  “I am not showing that picture to anyone!” Betsy cried. “Especially Mark. I will keep it to myself, and no one else will even know it exists.”

  In the months that followed, no o
ne ever did discover the existence of that picture. But, all the same, an exciting sequence of events rolled on. Mark was a busy young man, living at the resort, going to school, doing his homework, working at Fresh Cafe, and selling Betsy's art. A countless number of people were coming to buy Betsy's art, either in person, or online. As a result of Betsy's popularity, the number of members and visitors at Sunny Palms had tripled. By this time, even the managers were having a hard time keeping track of everyone, and were considering expanding the grounds.

  “Hey! Look at all the members and visitors,” Mark commented. “I have never seen anything like this. Your art has also become a gateway to market nudism.”

  “I don't care how many people come here,” Betsy explained, “I only care about expressing my work. I don't paint and draw to bring people to this place. I do it because it has become my living and it's what I like to do.”

  Finally, it was early June, and the day of Mark's graduation arrived.

  “Today's the day,” Mark smiled at Betsy. “Wish me luck.”

  “I do,” Betsy smiled back, “with all my heart.”

  Mark dressed himself in the tuxedo he had rented, and showed himself to Betsy.

  “You look very handsome,” Betsy smiled at him, but, as Betsy said this, Mark noticed Betsy's lower lip tremble.

  “You okay Bess?” he asked her.

  “Just have a good grad,” Betsy replied. “I'm proud of you, Mark. Have a great day.”

  And off Mark went.

  He arrived at the high school on foot, and nestled himself in with the other grade twelve boys. Mark's parents were nowhere to be seen, but Mark didn't care. They wanted nothing more to do with him, and, quite frankly, he didn't want anything more to do with them, either. After a few minutes, the first grad couple walked across the red carpet, and everyone, including Mark, cheered. It was Evan White and Mary Maxwell from his chemistry class, smiling and waving as they walked hand in hand.

  One after another, more and more pairs walked the carpet. Some students Mark knew, others he didn't. Some were Mark's former friends that he'd left because of that incident in the cafeteria. Nonetheless, Mark cheered for them all, even the people he no longer cared about so much. On the odd occasion, there was a boy going stag, but the applause was wild and joyous all the same. There was one girl who was by herself too, but the fact that she was alone didn't seem to spoil her enthusiasm and everyone cheered. On two instances, a same-sex pair walked the carpet. One was both boys, the other both girls.