ANTS AT A PICNIC
Catherine Harlow was her own woman. She was open-minded, outspoken at times, a little eccentric, and proud of every bit of it. Her husband, Jim, the judge, was a little on the old-fashioned side and it showed tremendously in his ideas for raising their only daughter, Beatrice.
Catherine fell in love with Jim Harlow back in 1910 during a summer break when he came home from his studies at Yale in Connecticut and they met at her sister's birthday party. He had shown up with Catherine's best friend, however it was love at first sight and the two entered into a courtship before the night was even over.
Her father, however, was not a fan of Jim's. It had nothing to do with him as a person, but had everything to do with his father. It was a classic case of feuding politicians, as Jim's father, John, had opposed her own father in the running for office and lost, both men's campaigns against each other especially heinous in their accusations. Her father had determined that John Harlow was nothing more than lowlife crook who deserved to lose anyway and that any son of his was bound to be as dense and crooked as he was.
Except that Catherine knew better and so she carried on a secret relationship with Jim for the next year until her father intercepted a letter Jim had mailed her from Yale and became infuriated at his daughter. However, by that time it was too late. They were already writing each other about marriage and their future and she was forced to stand up to her father, knowing that, in the end, there was really nothing he could do to stop her relationship. And so, as disgruntled as it made her father, Jim passed the bar exam, became an attorney, married Catherine, and they became parents to a beautiful, bouncing baby girl. Over time, her father grew to respect Jim for being nothing like his father, but he still held that obvious reservation all the way up until his death several years ago.
And now here she was, the wife of a successful judge, the mother of a beautiful, intelligent young woman, in a household that somehow managed to be surviving the depression, even though they were forced to cut down on many of their luxurious lifestyle choices. Missing the luxuries she once enjoyed, Catherine now made her own luxuries. She was creative, she was inventive, and her quirky attributes were some of the reasons she knew Jim married her. Jim may have been old-fashioned, but she kept their lives spicy with her modern ideas and, behind closed doors, she knew he enjoyed it.
For instance, he knew she invited the ladies over twice a week for lemonade in the basement. He'd made the mistake of asking her why she had it in the basement once and she'd told him that it was none of his business until he'd gotten into the wrong container of lemonade in the refrigerator and then he understood. That night she'd received quite the tongue lashing for having liquor in their home until she got him back and told him she'd been serving him her special lemonade for the past year and he never even knew it. She had to remind him that she knew him and she knew what he liked, illegal or not, and then that had turned into love-making and since then he'd been turning the other cheek to any activity she might be involved in that might seem questionable. Catherine was a pretty woman and she always had been, never having any shame in using it to her advantage.
When Bessie began to get into her teen years, Jim became more uptight. Catherine understood that she was their only daughter and that he wanted to protect her. However, he protected her so much that he seemed to create a world for her that she didn't need protecting from. She never had the opportunity to get into any trouble, she never had the opportunity to make any mistakes, and, secretly, Catherine wished that Bessie would do something mischievous just once to make her job as a mother a little more interesting. However, Bessie was quite literally the perfect child, and Jim had made sure of it.
This was why Catherine was intrigued to see their daughter alone at the fair Sunday afternoon.
Convincing Jim to make a stop at the fair for a hot dog after church, they'd decided to stick around for a moment to catch a glimpse of the Mystical Hanson Brothers act. Catherine had reminded her husband that they had hired them to sing for Bessie's birthday while they were still popular in vaudeville and he had agreed to give them a look for a moment or two.
It was no secret around Tulsa what had happened to the Hanson brothers. It was unfortunate, the hand life had dealt them. Being from the area, they had come home to find their parents dead from sickness and losing their family home due to the depression. Now they traveled around to find carnival work and when they didn't have a carnival to work at, they lived in their trailer close to the gypsy camp. They never caused any problems, aside from a bit of trouble the youngest one had gotten into just after their parents had passed, but he'd behaved since and people in the area generally left them alone and accepted them into whatever situation they'd found themselves in. After all, times were hard and, in this day and age, nobody was better than anyone else. Or at least that's how Catherine saw it.
That was apparently how Bessie saw it, as well. Catherine was careful not to alert Jim of their daughter's presence, as Catherine curiously watched her as she stood with her bicycle close to the front of the opposite side of the stage. If Catherine and Jim shifted their bodies just right, Bessie would be in Jim's clear line of vision past the crowd of people and she decided that she didn't want Jim to see Bessie and create a scene. Catherine gathered that Bessie obviously hadn't been there for her health, otherwise she wouldn't have made the effort, or taken the risk, to show up at this particular stage alone and without permission.
Looking around in search of a distraction, Catherine's eyes lit up as she spied Judge Watkins, the judge from Broken Arrow, standing just a few people behind them. Tapping Jim on the arm, she pointed to Judge Watkins and said cheerfully, "Look, honey, there's Judge Watkins back there. Weren't you mentioning recently that you were needing to speak to him?"
This seemed to work like a charm, as Jim seemed to jump at the idea of Judge Watkins's presence. Turning his back to the stage, and to the crowd, he stepped a few feet back and began to engage in a detailed, drawn out conversation with the Broken Arrow judge and Catherine knew he would likely be distracted for the rest of the act.
Catherine stood by her husband as the two men spoke, turning her body around to watch the act and keep an eye on Bessie. She hadn't been following along, however she became increasingly intrigued as the youngest one, Zac, stepped off the stage and approached Bessie, wowing the crowd as he produced a small bouquet of wildflowers from a black stick he twirled in his hand. Catherine watched a smile creep across Bessie's face as the boy lingered for a moment before returning to his brothers onstage. Narrowing her eyes, Catherine thought about the exchange and then she found herself starting to smile. Between yesterday and today, it was all coming together. Was Bessie finally liking her first boy? And just the same, was the boy liking her back?
Unable to help herself, Catherine excused herself from her husband, citing her need for something to drink, and then carefully waded herself through the crowd as the Hanson brothers continued their act onstage.
Approaching Bessie carefully, she tapped her on the shoulder lightly and Bessie turned around, her eyes wide with horror. "Mama! What are you doing here?"
"It's a public fair, dear," Catherine reminded her. "And I wanted a hot dog."
"Well--well, this isn't the hot dog stand."
"I can see that."
"Is Daddy here?"
"Yes," Catherine answered. "He's across the way over there, talking with Judge Watkins from Broken Arrow. Not to worry, he'll be there for awhile. He hasn't seen you. I, however, have been watching you this entire time and I must say, I'm intrigued."
"I'm sorry!" Bessie pleaded. "I'm so sorry, I would have asked permission if you were home, but--please, Mama, please don't let Daddy be upset with me."
Catherine smiled warmly at her daughter. "Sweetheart, I have no intention of telling your father I even saw you here. Unlike your father, I understand your position. I was eighteen and under my father's thumb once, too. I'm not--I'm not encouraging you to disrespect your father, mind you. But I understand what you're going through."
"You do?" Bessie asked, wide-eyed with confusion.
"Yes. Of course I do. But I'm also still your mother. And as your mother, I'd like to know what exactly I just witnessed over here with that Hanson boy, there."
Bessie gasped with shock. "You saw that?"
"The entire crowd saw it, Bessie. Except for your father. Do you know that boy?"
Her daughter's face fell as she looked at the ground and she nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I met him yesterday."
"Here at the fair?"
Bessie nodded again.
"Tell me, Bessie, what did you do over at Millie's house last night?"
"Mama," Bessie whispered. "Please don't--"
"Did you and Millie go anywhere? Did you come back to the fair?"
"Please don't be upset with me. I don't--I didn't know where we were going and--and Judith came with us and--"
"Did you see that boy last night?"
Tears began to well up in Bessie's eyes as she nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Mama, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be deceitful or disrespectful to you and Daddy, I promise--"
"Do you like him?"
Bessie seemed to be caught off guard in the moment. "He's nice. Oh, Mama, he's so nice. There was a party last night and I didn't want to go so he was nice and he sacrificed his good time to walk with me until Judith and Millie came out and--" Her hand clasped over her mouth. "Please don't let Millie get in trouble."
Catherine chuckled. "Millie's twenty-one now, there isn't much her parents can say to her."
"Daddy will never let me go anywhere with her again..."
"You let me handle your father. So this boy..."
"Zac," Bessie clarified.
"Zac...he's nice, you say?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Does he like you?"
Bessie shrugged meekly. "I--I guess--I mean, I hope so. Maybe. I don't know. He--he told me I was beautiful. And he told me he would pick me wildflowers." Then she held up her new prize excitedly. "And look. He did!"
"It sounds like he does like you," Catherine said, amused. "And he's quite handsome--"
"He's very handsome."
Catherine smiled at her daughter. "Bessie, I'm glad you like a boy."
Surprised, Bessie's eyes lit up. "You are?"
"Yes. I am. I've never seen you like a boy before. I was beginning to wonder if you would grow up a spinster--"
"Oh, Mama, no," Bessie said, shaking her head. "I gather I'll get married someday, I'll surely not become a spinster."
"Well, that's nice to know," her mother laughed.
"Will--will Daddy be upset if I like a boy?"
"Sweetie, you're a young woman now," Catherine said gently. "He might grow a little wary of it, but you had to like a boy eventually. It's just something he's going to have to deal with. You don't worry about your father. According to your father, you're still with Millie." Then she glanced at Bessie's bicycle. "I see my good basket, there. Have your breakfast on the run this morning?"
At the mention of the basket, Bessie blushed. "I wanted to ask Zac to have a picnic today. I thought it would be nice...you know, since he was so nice to me last night and all. I thought it might be forward, but Taylor said it wasn't--"
"Taylor, huh? Well, you're talking to all the boys now, aren't you?"
"Mama!" Bessie scolded. "It's not like that at all!"
Catherine chuckled at her daughter. "Don't get so uptight, I wasn't being rude. Anyway, I think it's nice that you want to ask him for a picnic. I think you'll have a lovely time."
"Really?"
"Bessie, I'm your mother. I want you to always be able to come to me with anything. Especially now since you seem to be...well, discovering boys, I guess."
"So--so you're not upset with me?"
"No. Absolutely not. Go enjoy your picnic. Be home before dark. If we're lucky, Millie won't come poking around today."
Bessie grinned from ear to ear and she hugged her. "Oh, thank you, Mama. Thank you!"
Leaving her daughter alone once more as she walked back toward her husband, Catherine felt a tug at her heartstrings. Her only little girl was growing up. It was hard enough having to adjust to the fact that she would be going off to the university in a few short months anyway. Now she gathered she'd be spending the rest of her summer days smitten over a boy. This caused Catherine to smile to herself. This would be an interesting summer, indeed.
______________________________________________________________________
Zac's nerves tore him up in such a way that he'd never felt before. He knew it would be a fifty-fifty chance that Bessie might show up today. He hadn't expected her to show up alone, however, and he had to admit, he was glad for it.
Every time he thought his nerves were finally getting some relief, something else would happen. Bessie's presence alone was enough to make his heart beat out of his chest. Then it came time to give her the flowers he'd picked for her and for a moment, he thought he'd forgotten the trick. Taylor had been right last night in saying that the trick would be a little more difficult with the real flowers and Zac was scared to death that he would mess it up right in front of her. However, when he'd done the trick successfully and revealed the thin bouquet of flimsy red and yellow wildflowers, Bessie had smiled her beautiful smile at him and everything was right in the world. Until he'd gone back onstage and her mother showed up.
This sent Zac into another frenzy and he longed to overhear the conversation. Bessie's back was turned so he couldn't read her face, but her mother was smiling, so it couldn't have been all that bad. Still, though. It didn't help the notion that her father was sure to be close by somewhere and it bothered Zac that he couldn't seem to lay his eyes on him.
By the time their act was over, Bessie had disappeared, along with her mother and her father. Zac's heart broke. Sure, her mother had been smiling, but he was sure that her father wasn't. Most likely, he'd caught her there and taken her home. This had to be it. This had to be the last time he would ever see her. At this thought, Zac's heart broke all over again.
So he was surprised when he stepped behind the black curtain and found Bessie standing there, alone, smiling as she stood by her bicycle. "Hi," she greeted him gleefully. "Your act was very entertaining today. Much better than yesterday."
Zac's heart pounded against his chest and his breathing felt shallow. He was having a hard time believing his eyes and then he silently cursed himself for thinking too much about it. It wasn't as if he'd never laid eyes on a pretty woman before. But this one...
He took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his cool. He flashed a smile at her as he stepped down the small, wooden steps. "Yeah, I bet it was."
"Thank you for the flowers," she said, continuing to smile. "They're very pretty."
Zac shrugged. "They're just flimsy old wildflowers."
"But I like those." Then she cleared her throat and she straightened her spine. "So...I brought a picnic with me today. And, um, and I wanted to know if you'd be interested in sharing it. Um, you know, with me..."
Shock couldn't describe what Zac felt in that moment. Shock. Surprise. Joy. He was touched, moved by her gesture. Just when he thought she couldn't be any sweeter, she did something like this. He was completely powerless to resist her. "Uh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'll--I'd like that. Let me just--I need to clean up here--"
"Go," Taylor's voice rang out suddenly. Then he tossed a folded up blanket Zac's way, Zac barely catching it in his arms. "You can't have a picnic without a blanket."
"Yeah, but--we gotta clean up--"
"Go," Taylor commanded again. "Ike and I can get this, it's okay."
"Are you sure?" Zac asked.
"Go," Taylor commanded one last time before he turned his back and walked away.
Turning back to Bessie and her breath-taking smile, Zac smiled back at her. "Okay, then. I guess if he insists on kicking me out..."
Bessie giggled, her laugh seeping into his veins. The pair began to walk, Bessie pushing her bicycle and Zac carrying the blanket, and his palms grew sweaty and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. All he wanted to do in this moment was take her in his arms and hold her and kiss her and never let her go, but he fought the urge and remained a gentleman. He had to remain a gentleman, he didn't have a choice.
They walked in silence for several minutes, far enough away from the fairgrounds to have privacy and be out of earshot of the rest of the acts that had disappeared into the background behind them. When they finally stopped and Zac spread the blanket on the grass, Bessie tucked her dress and her legs underneath her neatly and spread their lunch out on the blanket. "It was nice of Taylor to lend us this blanket," she finally said, breaking their silence.
"Yes, it was," he agreed.
"And it was nice of him to take up your work load so that you could take a break with me."
"Take a break?" Zac smiled, amused. "That's what this is?"
"Well, you have to do your act again later, don't you?"
Zac nodded as he bit into his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, letting the tender meat melt in his mouth. "Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you have a point there." Then he thought back on the act and he asked her, "So, was that your mother you were talking to?"
Bessie swallowed her bite slowly and glanced down at the sandwich in her hands. "You saw that?"
"I was up on a platform, I could see everything."
"Yes," she answered. "I, um, I didn't tell anyone I was coming here today..."
"Were you supposed to?"
"I thought I was," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "But Mama seemed to be okay with it, so...I mean, as long as I'm home before dark."
Zac furrowed his brow in confusion and he looked at her. "And she knows you're out here with me?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded as she bit into her sandwich again.
"Hm," Zac sounded in thought as he looked out at the field beyond them. He had to admit, this surprised him. With him being who he was and her parents being who they were...well, he just wasn't expecting to still be allowed to see her.
He turned up the lemonade she'd poured into small cups for them and the flavor made him smile. "This is really good," he said to her.
She looked at him and she beamed at him proudly. "It's Mama's specialty. She wins awards for that lemonade. Don't worry, though, I poured it from the right container."
Zac had to smile at her in complete amusement. "The right container?"
Her eyes widened for a moment before she blushed. "Um, I probably shouldn't be talking about that. She doesn't know I know."
He chuckled as he took another bite out of his sandwich and shook his head. Well, didn't that beat all? Judge Harlow had liquor in his home. He'd have never thought it.
The pair ate in silence for another minute or two, the two of them gazing out at the nature beyond them. The sky above them was becoming overcast and the clouds in the far off distance darkened and threatened rain. As Zac was trying to tell which way the clouds seemed to be moving, Bessie broke their silence. "Looks like we're gonna get a good rain today."
"A good rain? What's good about rain?"
"Zac, come on," she said to him, matter-of-factly. "It's always good when it rains here, you know that." Then her expression lightened. "Besides, a good, afternoon summer rain is relaxing. I love curling up in a chair by the window, reading a good book while I listen to the rain. Sometimes I crack the window so I can smell it." Then she looked at him and sipped her lemonade. "What do you like to read?"
Zac hated the rain. He hated stepping outside from the trailer and onto a ground made of nothing but mud. There was no grass where he lived. At least not in the immediate area, not where everyone walked around and built campfires and such. And the rain was so loud from inside the trailer, especially when it stormed. The lightening made him nervous and he always wondered when the day would come that the trailer might be destroyed by a strike. Thinking of the rain made him upset. It reminded him of who he was and who he was sitting next to. He was nobody and he had nothing and he would never be anybody and he would never have anything and, yet, here sat this angel--this angel that he would never be good enough for. The thought angered him and it sickened him.
"What makes you think I can read?" He finally asked.
"I know you can."
He sighed, obliging her question. "Shakespeare, I guess. Some poetry..."
"I don't like Shakespeare," she said, shaking her head. "Well--maybe I don't dislike Shakespeare. I just can't understand it. It's so hard to read. I always got bad marks in school on Shakespeare because I couldn't get it. I like poetry, though." She smiled and she turned her body to him. "Recite a poem for me."
Suddenly the nerves came back and he cleared his throat. "I, uh, I don't really know any off the top of my head..."
"I don't believe that. You're a singer, you know a poem."
He turned to look at her, noticing that she'd since traded her sandwich for an apple, nibbling on it lightly. "What are you talking about?" He asked.
"You sang at my party all those years ago. Singers know poems. I'm not asking you to sing one. I wouldn't make you do that. I know you don't like to anymore."
He was growing very uneasy with this conversation as he took another bite out of his sandwich and looked up at the threatening sky in an attempt to stall their words.
"Taylor told me about you," she continued meekly.
Zac's chewing slowed as he continued to look out into the grass beyond them. "About me?"
"Well, about all three of you."
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the thought of her even talking to Taylor. Nine times out of ten, once Taylor sunk his claws into a woman, there was no turning back. "So...what, you like Taylor now? Wouldn't your cousin be upset?"
"No," Bessie objected earnestly. "He's nice and all, but--well, I don't fancy him or anything. I just asked him a question and he told me..."
"What, exactly, did he tell you?"
"Everything. About how you used to be big stars in vaudeville until they started making talking pictures. About the drought and your parents..."
Zac seethed with anger. She hadn't needed to know any of that. It wasn't her business and none of it mattered now. None of it meant anything anymore. They had nothing, he could offer her nothing, and in that moment he knew he'd been extremely stupid in thinking that he ever had a chance with a girl like her. Nobody wanted to be with a poor, homeless gypsy.
He looked at the small spread on the picnic blanket in front of them and he sneered, putting what was left of his sandwich down, his stomach churning with his loss of appetite. He was ashamed of himself enough as it was. He didn't need anyone else to be. "I don't need your charity," he mumbled as he looked out into the field beyond them.
"What?" She asked innocently. "What charity?"
"You know. All this. Bringing me food, being nice, saying all these things to butter me up. I haven't taken your tips at our show for the past two days because I don't want your money. I certainly don't need your charity or your pity. I should have known better, I should have left well enough alone."
"Zac," she objected. "I don't--I don't understand..."
"That's just it. You don't understand. It's hard to understand anything underneath your uppity social status. You haven't needed to understand anything."
"Social status? You're not making any sense--"
"Admit it, Bessie. Tay told you our little sob story and now here you are, offering a handout to some poor, homeless guy. I get it. Boy, what was I thinking?"
"It wasn't a sob story at all--"
"Of course it's a sob story. How we live in a travel trailer and we work for nothing--"
"But it's somewhere to live--"
"How our car's been broken down for two months and we can't afford the parts to fix it--"
"Most people don't even have a car--"
"Or how I can't even give you a real gift, I have to resort to picking these flimsy wildflowers--"
"I think they're beautiful--"
"Just--just say it, Bessie. We both know it. A girl like you could never want anything to do with a guy like me."
"But I'm sitting right here," she whispered quietly. Then she placed her barely-eaten apple carefully down on the blanket. "I'm going home."
Zac was caught off guard by her sudden decision. "What? We haven't even finished lunch, yet."
"I'm not hungry. And I don't want to be here anymore."
He felt the devastation weakening his entire body as she stood up. "Bessie--" he objected.
"I was wrong about you," she said to him, her voice fragile. "You're right, a girl like me could never want anything to do with a guy like you. But it has nothing to do with where you live or how much money you have. It's because you're rude and you're ungrateful. There are people out there who starve and sleep on the streets and couldn't earn a penny if they tried. But here you sit with a roof over your head, food in your belly every day, and a means to make money, and you can't even appreciate it. You don't appreciate anything! You don't appreciate your brother lending us this good blanket and taking on your work load so you could spend time with me. You don't appreciate me wanting to be your friend, you don't appreciate this picnic I made for you--I did this to spend time with you. Because I thought you were a good person! But I can't be bothered with someone who is as cold and cruel as you are. I thought you had a kind heart, but I was wrong." Bending over and picking up her bouquet of wildflowers, she stood up and threw them at Zac's face as forcefully as she could. "I don't want these. They were beautiful before you ruined them with your words. And speaking of words, you could learn a lot from Taylor, did you know that? And if Millie wasn't already going out with him, I would have asked him to share this picnic because he's kind and at least he would have appreciated it. And he's pretty to look at!" In her anger, she kicked the picnic basket and balled up her fists. "Keep it. Keep your stupid trick flowers and the wildflowers and the whole picnic! Keep all of it, I don't want any of it!"
Zac was shocked, heartbroken, and angry all at the same time. He heard her start to cry as she mounted her bicycle. "Bessie!" He pleaded. "Bessie, don't go! Please! I'm sorry!"
But it was too late. She was already pedaling fiercely through the field, the wind blowing violently through her hair.
He was so emotional with anger and hurt that the tears welled up in his eyes and his chest heaved with breath in the attempt to keep them from falling. Gathering up their picnic, along with her wildflowers, which he could have left there, the thunder rolled in the distance as he carried the basket with the blanket draped over it and he stormed back to the fairgrounds. Taylor would pay for this. Oh, how he would pay for this.
Catherine Harlow was her own woman. She was open-minded, outspoken at times, a little eccentric, and proud of every bit of it. Her husband, Jim, the judge, was a little on the old-fashioned side and it showed tremendously in his ideas for raising their only daughter, Beatrice.
Catherine fell in love with Jim Harlow back in 1910 during a summer break when he came home from his studies at Yale in Connecticut and they met at her sister's birthday party. He had shown up with Catherine's best friend, however it was love at first sight and the two entered into a courtship before the night was even over.
Her father, however, was not a fan of Jim's. It had nothing to do with him as a person, but had everything to do with his father. It was a classic case of feuding politicians, as Jim's father, John, had opposed her own father in the running for office and lost, both men's campaigns against each other especially heinous in their accusations. Her father had determined that John Harlow was nothing more than lowlife crook who deserved to lose anyway and that any son of his was bound to be as dense and crooked as he was.
Except that Catherine knew better and so she carried on a secret relationship with Jim for the next year until her father intercepted a letter Jim had mailed her from Yale and became infuriated at his daughter. However, by that time it was too late. They were already writing each other about marriage and their future and she was forced to stand up to her father, knowing that, in the end, there was really nothing he could do to stop her relationship. And so, as disgruntled as it made her father, Jim passed the bar exam, became an attorney, married Catherine, and they became parents to a beautiful, bouncing baby girl. Over time, her father grew to respect Jim for being nothing like his father, but he still held that obvious reservation all the way up until his death several years ago.
And now here she was, the wife of a successful judge, the mother of a beautiful, intelligent young woman, in a household that somehow managed to be surviving the depression, even though they were forced to cut down on many of their luxurious lifestyle choices. Missing the luxuries she once enjoyed, Catherine now made her own luxuries. She was creative, she was inventive, and her quirky attributes were some of the reasons she knew Jim married her. Jim may have been old-fashioned, but she kept their lives spicy with her modern ideas and, behind closed doors, she knew he enjoyed it.
For instance, he knew she invited the ladies over twice a week for lemonade in the basement. He'd made the mistake of asking her why she had it in the basement once and she'd told him that it was none of his business until he'd gotten into the wrong container of lemonade in the refrigerator and then he understood. That night she'd received quite the tongue lashing for having liquor in their home until she got him back and told him she'd been serving him her special lemonade for the past year and he never even knew it. She had to remind him that she knew him and she knew what he liked, illegal or not, and then that had turned into love-making and since then he'd been turning the other cheek to any activity she might be involved in that might seem questionable. Catherine was a pretty woman and she always had been, never having any shame in using it to her advantage.
When Bessie began to get into her teen years, Jim became more uptight. Catherine understood that she was their only daughter and that he wanted to protect her. However, he protected her so much that he seemed to create a world for her that she didn't need protecting from. She never had the opportunity to get into any trouble, she never had the opportunity to make any mistakes, and, secretly, Catherine wished that Bessie would do something mischievous just once to make her job as a mother a little more interesting. However, Bessie was quite literally the perfect child, and Jim had made sure of it.
This was why Catherine was intrigued to see their daughter alone at the fair Sunday afternoon.
Convincing Jim to make a stop at the fair for a hot dog after church, they'd decided to stick around for a moment to catch a glimpse of the Mystical Hanson Brothers act. Catherine had reminded her husband that they had hired them to sing for Bessie's birthday while they were still popular in vaudeville and he had agreed to give them a look for a moment or two.
It was no secret around Tulsa what had happened to the Hanson brothers. It was unfortunate, the hand life had dealt them. Being from the area, they had come home to find their parents dead from sickness and losing their family home due to the depression. Now they traveled around to find carnival work and when they didn't have a carnival to work at, they lived in their trailer close to the gypsy camp. They never caused any problems, aside from a bit of trouble the youngest one had gotten into just after their parents had passed, but he'd behaved since and people in the area generally left them alone and accepted them into whatever situation they'd found themselves in. After all, times were hard and, in this day and age, nobody was better than anyone else. Or at least that's how Catherine saw it.
That was apparently how Bessie saw it, as well. Catherine was careful not to alert Jim of their daughter's presence, as Catherine curiously watched her as she stood with her bicycle close to the front of the opposite side of the stage. If Catherine and Jim shifted their bodies just right, Bessie would be in Jim's clear line of vision past the crowd of people and she decided that she didn't want Jim to see Bessie and create a scene. Catherine gathered that Bessie obviously hadn't been there for her health, otherwise she wouldn't have made the effort, or taken the risk, to show up at this particular stage alone and without permission.
Looking around in search of a distraction, Catherine's eyes lit up as she spied Judge Watkins, the judge from Broken Arrow, standing just a few people behind them. Tapping Jim on the arm, she pointed to Judge Watkins and said cheerfully, "Look, honey, there's Judge Watkins back there. Weren't you mentioning recently that you were needing to speak to him?"
This seemed to work like a charm, as Jim seemed to jump at the idea of Judge Watkins's presence. Turning his back to the stage, and to the crowd, he stepped a few feet back and began to engage in a detailed, drawn out conversation with the Broken Arrow judge and Catherine knew he would likely be distracted for the rest of the act.
Catherine stood by her husband as the two men spoke, turning her body around to watch the act and keep an eye on Bessie. She hadn't been following along, however she became increasingly intrigued as the youngest one, Zac, stepped off the stage and approached Bessie, wowing the crowd as he produced a small bouquet of wildflowers from a black stick he twirled in his hand. Catherine watched a smile creep across Bessie's face as the boy lingered for a moment before returning to his brothers onstage. Narrowing her eyes, Catherine thought about the exchange and then she found herself starting to smile. Between yesterday and today, it was all coming together. Was Bessie finally liking her first boy? And just the same, was the boy liking her back?
Unable to help herself, Catherine excused herself from her husband, citing her need for something to drink, and then carefully waded herself through the crowd as the Hanson brothers continued their act onstage.
Approaching Bessie carefully, she tapped her on the shoulder lightly and Bessie turned around, her eyes wide with horror. "Mama! What are you doing here?"
"It's a public fair, dear," Catherine reminded her. "And I wanted a hot dog."
"Well--well, this isn't the hot dog stand."
"I can see that."
"Is Daddy here?"
"Yes," Catherine answered. "He's across the way over there, talking with Judge Watkins from Broken Arrow. Not to worry, he'll be there for awhile. He hasn't seen you. I, however, have been watching you this entire time and I must say, I'm intrigued."
"I'm sorry!" Bessie pleaded. "I'm so sorry, I would have asked permission if you were home, but--please, Mama, please don't let Daddy be upset with me."
Catherine smiled warmly at her daughter. "Sweetheart, I have no intention of telling your father I even saw you here. Unlike your father, I understand your position. I was eighteen and under my father's thumb once, too. I'm not--I'm not encouraging you to disrespect your father, mind you. But I understand what you're going through."
"You do?" Bessie asked, wide-eyed with confusion.
"Yes. Of course I do. But I'm also still your mother. And as your mother, I'd like to know what exactly I just witnessed over here with that Hanson boy, there."
Bessie gasped with shock. "You saw that?"
"The entire crowd saw it, Bessie. Except for your father. Do you know that boy?"
Her daughter's face fell as she looked at the ground and she nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I met him yesterday."
"Here at the fair?"
Bessie nodded again.
"Tell me, Bessie, what did you do over at Millie's house last night?"
"Mama," Bessie whispered. "Please don't--"
"Did you and Millie go anywhere? Did you come back to the fair?"
"Please don't be upset with me. I don't--I didn't know where we were going and--and Judith came with us and--"
"Did you see that boy last night?"
Tears began to well up in Bessie's eyes as she nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Mama, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be deceitful or disrespectful to you and Daddy, I promise--"
"Do you like him?"
Bessie seemed to be caught off guard in the moment. "He's nice. Oh, Mama, he's so nice. There was a party last night and I didn't want to go so he was nice and he sacrificed his good time to walk with me until Judith and Millie came out and--" Her hand clasped over her mouth. "Please don't let Millie get in trouble."
Catherine chuckled. "Millie's twenty-one now, there isn't much her parents can say to her."
"Daddy will never let me go anywhere with her again..."
"You let me handle your father. So this boy..."
"Zac," Bessie clarified.
"Zac...he's nice, you say?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Does he like you?"
Bessie shrugged meekly. "I--I guess--I mean, I hope so. Maybe. I don't know. He--he told me I was beautiful. And he told me he would pick me wildflowers." Then she held up her new prize excitedly. "And look. He did!"
"It sounds like he does like you," Catherine said, amused. "And he's quite handsome--"
"He's very handsome."
Catherine smiled at her daughter. "Bessie, I'm glad you like a boy."
Surprised, Bessie's eyes lit up. "You are?"
"Yes. I am. I've never seen you like a boy before. I was beginning to wonder if you would grow up a spinster--"
"Oh, Mama, no," Bessie said, shaking her head. "I gather I'll get married someday, I'll surely not become a spinster."
"Well, that's nice to know," her mother laughed.
"Will--will Daddy be upset if I like a boy?"
"Sweetie, you're a young woman now," Catherine said gently. "He might grow a little wary of it, but you had to like a boy eventually. It's just something he's going to have to deal with. You don't worry about your father. According to your father, you're still with Millie." Then she glanced at Bessie's bicycle. "I see my good basket, there. Have your breakfast on the run this morning?"
At the mention of the basket, Bessie blushed. "I wanted to ask Zac to have a picnic today. I thought it would be nice...you know, since he was so nice to me last night and all. I thought it might be forward, but Taylor said it wasn't--"
"Taylor, huh? Well, you're talking to all the boys now, aren't you?"
"Mama!" Bessie scolded. "It's not like that at all!"
Catherine chuckled at her daughter. "Don't get so uptight, I wasn't being rude. Anyway, I think it's nice that you want to ask him for a picnic. I think you'll have a lovely time."
"Really?"
"Bessie, I'm your mother. I want you to always be able to come to me with anything. Especially now since you seem to be...well, discovering boys, I guess."
"So--so you're not upset with me?"
"No. Absolutely not. Go enjoy your picnic. Be home before dark. If we're lucky, Millie won't come poking around today."
Bessie grinned from ear to ear and she hugged her. "Oh, thank you, Mama. Thank you!"
Leaving her daughter alone once more as she walked back toward her husband, Catherine felt a tug at her heartstrings. Her only little girl was growing up. It was hard enough having to adjust to the fact that she would be going off to the university in a few short months anyway. Now she gathered she'd be spending the rest of her summer days smitten over a boy. This caused Catherine to smile to herself. This would be an interesting summer, indeed.
______________________________________________________________________
Zac's nerves tore him up in such a way that he'd never felt before. He knew it would be a fifty-fifty chance that Bessie might show up today. He hadn't expected her to show up alone, however, and he had to admit, he was glad for it.
Every time he thought his nerves were finally getting some relief, something else would happen. Bessie's presence alone was enough to make his heart beat out of his chest. Then it came time to give her the flowers he'd picked for her and for a moment, he thought he'd forgotten the trick. Taylor had been right last night in saying that the trick would be a little more difficult with the real flowers and Zac was scared to death that he would mess it up right in front of her. However, when he'd done the trick successfully and revealed the thin bouquet of flimsy red and yellow wildflowers, Bessie had smiled her beautiful smile at him and everything was right in the world. Until he'd gone back onstage and her mother showed up.
This sent Zac into another frenzy and he longed to overhear the conversation. Bessie's back was turned so he couldn't read her face, but her mother was smiling, so it couldn't have been all that bad. Still, though. It didn't help the notion that her father was sure to be close by somewhere and it bothered Zac that he couldn't seem to lay his eyes on him.
By the time their act was over, Bessie had disappeared, along with her mother and her father. Zac's heart broke. Sure, her mother had been smiling, but he was sure that her father wasn't. Most likely, he'd caught her there and taken her home. This had to be it. This had to be the last time he would ever see her. At this thought, Zac's heart broke all over again.
So he was surprised when he stepped behind the black curtain and found Bessie standing there, alone, smiling as she stood by her bicycle. "Hi," she greeted him gleefully. "Your act was very entertaining today. Much better than yesterday."
Zac's heart pounded against his chest and his breathing felt shallow. He was having a hard time believing his eyes and then he silently cursed himself for thinking too much about it. It wasn't as if he'd never laid eyes on a pretty woman before. But this one...
He took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his cool. He flashed a smile at her as he stepped down the small, wooden steps. "Yeah, I bet it was."
"Thank you for the flowers," she said, continuing to smile. "They're very pretty."
Zac shrugged. "They're just flimsy old wildflowers."
"But I like those." Then she cleared her throat and she straightened her spine. "So...I brought a picnic with me today. And, um, and I wanted to know if you'd be interested in sharing it. Um, you know, with me..."
Shock couldn't describe what Zac felt in that moment. Shock. Surprise. Joy. He was touched, moved by her gesture. Just when he thought she couldn't be any sweeter, she did something like this. He was completely powerless to resist her. "Uh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'll--I'd like that. Let me just--I need to clean up here--"
"Go," Taylor's voice rang out suddenly. Then he tossed a folded up blanket Zac's way, Zac barely catching it in his arms. "You can't have a picnic without a blanket."
"Yeah, but--we gotta clean up--"
"Go," Taylor commanded again. "Ike and I can get this, it's okay."
"Are you sure?" Zac asked.
"Go," Taylor commanded one last time before he turned his back and walked away.
Turning back to Bessie and her breath-taking smile, Zac smiled back at her. "Okay, then. I guess if he insists on kicking me out..."
Bessie giggled, her laugh seeping into his veins. The pair began to walk, Bessie pushing her bicycle and Zac carrying the blanket, and his palms grew sweaty and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. All he wanted to do in this moment was take her in his arms and hold her and kiss her and never let her go, but he fought the urge and remained a gentleman. He had to remain a gentleman, he didn't have a choice.
They walked in silence for several minutes, far enough away from the fairgrounds to have privacy and be out of earshot of the rest of the acts that had disappeared into the background behind them. When they finally stopped and Zac spread the blanket on the grass, Bessie tucked her dress and her legs underneath her neatly and spread their lunch out on the blanket. "It was nice of Taylor to lend us this blanket," she finally said, breaking their silence.
"Yes, it was," he agreed.
"And it was nice of him to take up your work load so that you could take a break with me."
"Take a break?" Zac smiled, amused. "That's what this is?"
"Well, you have to do your act again later, don't you?"
Zac nodded as he bit into his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, letting the tender meat melt in his mouth. "Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you have a point there." Then he thought back on the act and he asked her, "So, was that your mother you were talking to?"
Bessie swallowed her bite slowly and glanced down at the sandwich in her hands. "You saw that?"
"I was up on a platform, I could see everything."
"Yes," she answered. "I, um, I didn't tell anyone I was coming here today..."
"Were you supposed to?"
"I thought I was," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "But Mama seemed to be okay with it, so...I mean, as long as I'm home before dark."
Zac furrowed his brow in confusion and he looked at her. "And she knows you're out here with me?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded as she bit into her sandwich again.
"Hm," Zac sounded in thought as he looked out at the field beyond them. He had to admit, this surprised him. With him being who he was and her parents being who they were...well, he just wasn't expecting to still be allowed to see her.
He turned up the lemonade she'd poured into small cups for them and the flavor made him smile. "This is really good," he said to her.
She looked at him and she beamed at him proudly. "It's Mama's specialty. She wins awards for that lemonade. Don't worry, though, I poured it from the right container."
Zac had to smile at her in complete amusement. "The right container?"
Her eyes widened for a moment before she blushed. "Um, I probably shouldn't be talking about that. She doesn't know I know."
He chuckled as he took another bite out of his sandwich and shook his head. Well, didn't that beat all? Judge Harlow had liquor in his home. He'd have never thought it.
The pair ate in silence for another minute or two, the two of them gazing out at the nature beyond them. The sky above them was becoming overcast and the clouds in the far off distance darkened and threatened rain. As Zac was trying to tell which way the clouds seemed to be moving, Bessie broke their silence. "Looks like we're gonna get a good rain today."
"A good rain? What's good about rain?"
"Zac, come on," she said to him, matter-of-factly. "It's always good when it rains here, you know that." Then her expression lightened. "Besides, a good, afternoon summer rain is relaxing. I love curling up in a chair by the window, reading a good book while I listen to the rain. Sometimes I crack the window so I can smell it." Then she looked at him and sipped her lemonade. "What do you like to read?"
Zac hated the rain. He hated stepping outside from the trailer and onto a ground made of nothing but mud. There was no grass where he lived. At least not in the immediate area, not where everyone walked around and built campfires and such. And the rain was so loud from inside the trailer, especially when it stormed. The lightening made him nervous and he always wondered when the day would come that the trailer might be destroyed by a strike. Thinking of the rain made him upset. It reminded him of who he was and who he was sitting next to. He was nobody and he had nothing and he would never be anybody and he would never have anything and, yet, here sat this angel--this angel that he would never be good enough for. The thought angered him and it sickened him.
"What makes you think I can read?" He finally asked.
"I know you can."
He sighed, obliging her question. "Shakespeare, I guess. Some poetry..."
"I don't like Shakespeare," she said, shaking her head. "Well--maybe I don't dislike Shakespeare. I just can't understand it. It's so hard to read. I always got bad marks in school on Shakespeare because I couldn't get it. I like poetry, though." She smiled and she turned her body to him. "Recite a poem for me."
Suddenly the nerves came back and he cleared his throat. "I, uh, I don't really know any off the top of my head..."
"I don't believe that. You're a singer, you know a poem."
He turned to look at her, noticing that she'd since traded her sandwich for an apple, nibbling on it lightly. "What are you talking about?" He asked.
"You sang at my party all those years ago. Singers know poems. I'm not asking you to sing one. I wouldn't make you do that. I know you don't like to anymore."
He was growing very uneasy with this conversation as he took another bite out of his sandwich and looked up at the threatening sky in an attempt to stall their words.
"Taylor told me about you," she continued meekly.
Zac's chewing slowed as he continued to look out into the grass beyond them. "About me?"
"Well, about all three of you."
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the thought of her even talking to Taylor. Nine times out of ten, once Taylor sunk his claws into a woman, there was no turning back. "So...what, you like Taylor now? Wouldn't your cousin be upset?"
"No," Bessie objected earnestly. "He's nice and all, but--well, I don't fancy him or anything. I just asked him a question and he told me..."
"What, exactly, did he tell you?"
"Everything. About how you used to be big stars in vaudeville until they started making talking pictures. About the drought and your parents..."
Zac seethed with anger. She hadn't needed to know any of that. It wasn't her business and none of it mattered now. None of it meant anything anymore. They had nothing, he could offer her nothing, and in that moment he knew he'd been extremely stupid in thinking that he ever had a chance with a girl like her. Nobody wanted to be with a poor, homeless gypsy.
He looked at the small spread on the picnic blanket in front of them and he sneered, putting what was left of his sandwich down, his stomach churning with his loss of appetite. He was ashamed of himself enough as it was. He didn't need anyone else to be. "I don't need your charity," he mumbled as he looked out into the field beyond them.
"What?" She asked innocently. "What charity?"
"You know. All this. Bringing me food, being nice, saying all these things to butter me up. I haven't taken your tips at our show for the past two days because I don't want your money. I certainly don't need your charity or your pity. I should have known better, I should have left well enough alone."
"Zac," she objected. "I don't--I don't understand..."
"That's just it. You don't understand. It's hard to understand anything underneath your uppity social status. You haven't needed to understand anything."
"Social status? You're not making any sense--"
"Admit it, Bessie. Tay told you our little sob story and now here you are, offering a handout to some poor, homeless guy. I get it. Boy, what was I thinking?"
"It wasn't a sob story at all--"
"Of course it's a sob story. How we live in a travel trailer and we work for nothing--"
"But it's somewhere to live--"
"How our car's been broken down for two months and we can't afford the parts to fix it--"
"Most people don't even have a car--"
"Or how I can't even give you a real gift, I have to resort to picking these flimsy wildflowers--"
"I think they're beautiful--"
"Just--just say it, Bessie. We both know it. A girl like you could never want anything to do with a guy like me."
"But I'm sitting right here," she whispered quietly. Then she placed her barely-eaten apple carefully down on the blanket. "I'm going home."
Zac was caught off guard by her sudden decision. "What? We haven't even finished lunch, yet."
"I'm not hungry. And I don't want to be here anymore."
He felt the devastation weakening his entire body as she stood up. "Bessie--" he objected.
"I was wrong about you," she said to him, her voice fragile. "You're right, a girl like me could never want anything to do with a guy like you. But it has nothing to do with where you live or how much money you have. It's because you're rude and you're ungrateful. There are people out there who starve and sleep on the streets and couldn't earn a penny if they tried. But here you sit with a roof over your head, food in your belly every day, and a means to make money, and you can't even appreciate it. You don't appreciate anything! You don't appreciate your brother lending us this good blanket and taking on your work load so you could spend time with me. You don't appreciate me wanting to be your friend, you don't appreciate this picnic I made for you--I did this to spend time with you. Because I thought you were a good person! But I can't be bothered with someone who is as cold and cruel as you are. I thought you had a kind heart, but I was wrong." Bending over and picking up her bouquet of wildflowers, she stood up and threw them at Zac's face as forcefully as she could. "I don't want these. They were beautiful before you ruined them with your words. And speaking of words, you could learn a lot from Taylor, did you know that? And if Millie wasn't already going out with him, I would have asked him to share this picnic because he's kind and at least he would have appreciated it. And he's pretty to look at!" In her anger, she kicked the picnic basket and balled up her fists. "Keep it. Keep your stupid trick flowers and the wildflowers and the whole picnic! Keep all of it, I don't want any of it!"
Zac was shocked, heartbroken, and angry all at the same time. He heard her start to cry as she mounted her bicycle. "Bessie!" He pleaded. "Bessie, don't go! Please! I'm sorry!"
But it was too late. She was already pedaling fiercely through the field, the wind blowing violently through her hair.
He was so emotional with anger and hurt that the tears welled up in his eyes and his chest heaved with breath in the attempt to keep them from falling. Gathering up their picnic, along with her wildflowers, which he could have left there, the thunder rolled in the distance as he carried the basket with the blanket draped over it and he stormed back to the fairgrounds. Taylor would pay for this. Oh, how he would pay for this.