HICCUPS
"My Dearest Bessie,
I miss you. We've only been gone for a day but it already feels like a year. It's so hard to believe that just this morning I kissed your lips and saw your sweet smile and that just last night I held you close to my heart. I can still smell the sweet melon and honey from your hair and I can hear the musical ring of your voice as you say my name. Bessie. Sweet Bessie. How I miss you so.
I must seem like a hypocrite after telling you that I need you to be strong. Especially since I cried on you last night. I don't like to cry and I don't like anyone to see me cry. You're the only person I'm truly comfortable around, Bess. You're the only one I want to know my deepest, darkest secrets and the only one who can comfort me during my most shameful of moments. That's intimacy. That is true, pure intimacy that I could never in my life find with anyone else.
We're on the side of the road now. It's dark and we're not in Boston yet, but I said I would write to you every day and this counts as a day. I promise you, I will never go a day without writing you. I don't know how long the mail will take to get to you, but I hope it gets to you quickly. We parked the car and the trailer on the side of the road next to a field of some kind. Ike and Tay are inside the trailer, sleeping, and I'm outside by what is left of the fire so that I could see to write. I slept most of today's trip in the backseat, fighting off motion sickness. I didn't get sick. I guess I'm no longer used to taking long car rides like this. Ike and Tay seemed fine, they argued most of the way. At least sleeping put their bickering to rest.
That reminds me, I'm sending a gift for you along with this letter. It's a gift from Tay, mainly, but gift anyway. He gave me one, too, and I keep it in my shirt pocket. I pull it out and I look at it constantly. It's my most prized possession. I'm not sure if it makes the missing you harder or easier, but I know that being able to see you, even in a photograph, is a relief beyond words.
Bess, I'm not sure if I even want tomorrow to come. Come daylight, we're going to be back on the road again, driving further and further away from you than I already am. This is the most difficult trip I've ever been on. I don't want you to worry about me, I just don't know where else to direct my sadness. It's strange, the way I feel right now. Part of me can't wait to get back up on that stage and perform for those crowds. It's been so long and especially up north, the crowds will be so much grander. But when I look out into them this time, you won't be there. And those two days that you were changed the way I feel about being onstage forever. There is no me without you. I never knew who I was before you came along, but I know now who I am and I know who I want to be. I am yours. Forever and always yours. Yours is the only thing I ever want to be.
I suppose I should try to sleep now. Eventually it will be my turn to drive and I hope to maybe convince Ike to let me drive a majority of the way. At least then my mind will be occupied and the trip might go by faster. Am I being unfair to Ike and Tay for feeling the way I do right now? I'm not sure exactly how close Ike and Judith are, to be honest, but Tay is getting married. The missing her has to be getting to him, but he hasn't said anything about it. Is it because she's a gypsy and she understands his need for travel? Do you think they have some kind of mutual understanding and appreciation for the other?
With Tay's help, I'm making a surprise for you while I'm away. It won't be ready until after I come home, but I hope you like it. I hope between that and the shows, my mind will be eased and time will go by faster. I'll do anything, Bessie. Anything in this world to speed up time just to come right home to you.
I don't want to stop writing because this is the only way I can talk to you. I wish you were here right now, running your fingers through my hair and helping me sleep. I think you have me spoiled with that. I'll probably never cut my hair for the rest of my life.
I really do have to sleep, though. As soon as we find a fuel station tomorrow, hopefully there will be a post office nearby and I'll mail this letter right to you. I'll write you again tomorrow. I love you so much, my sweet girl. My body may be here, somewhere in Illinois, but my heart remains right there with you. Under our tree, with our wildflowers and with that mangy mutt. Goodnight, my love. As I write this, I hope you're sleeping soundly, dreaming sweet dreams of candies and cakes and maybe the baby rabbits we saw in the flowers last week.
Yours, always and forever,
Zac"
Zac had no idea when he had fallen asleep. All he knew was that he woke up to daylight as Isaac was bent over him, shaking his shoulder. "Zac," he was saying. "Zac, come on. Why didn't you come inside last night? I can't believe you slept out here."
"Huh?" Zac said, sitting up slowly and looking around. It was early and the sun had yet to make an appearance, but the sky above them was a light blue and the dew on the grass around him was still wet. He became suddenly aware of the pain his neck felt from the lack of support underneath him and he rubbed his eyes and he looked around him, his eyes falling on the stationary he used to write to Bessie on. That was his wake up call.
"Oh!" He said, gathering his things and jumping up. "We need to find a fuel station in a hurry. Hopefully there will be a post office nearby. I have to mail this letter to Bessie first thing!"
"Gee," Isaac remarked sarcastically. "And here I thought you were concerned with the car needing more gasoline."
"Let me drive," Zac said, standing up and dusting himself off. "I'll drive tomorrow, too."
"Your current state of mind is already questionable enough. Can you really handle Taylor's insufferable mouth while he sits up there and tells you how to drive?"
"So we'll stuff him in the backseat and he can take pictures of everything. Seems like the only peace we get is when he's fiddling with that camera."
"It's a deal," Isaac said, starting back toward the car. Then he stopped and turned around. "Say, why all the sudden interest in driving?"
Zac sighed and ran a hand through his hair before thinking better of it and tying it up into a ponytail. "I gotta do something. I can't sit back there and let my mind wander, it's--it's not good. It's not good and it scares me and I just need to drive."
Isaac nodded and ran his hand through his own hair. "Okay. I can respect that. We already have the trailer ready to go, we just need to go ahead and hit the road. We seem to be making good time already, I'm afraid something will throw off our momentum."
Surprisingly, Taylor didn't complain when he was made to reside in the backseat for the day's trip and it wasn't long before Zac was lost in his own world as he steered the car down what was left of the dirt road they had found themselves on. He had thought that driving the car would keep him busy and occupy his mind, but he'd been wrong. If anything, driving only made things worse. He had finally been forced to concede to the fact that there was no escape from the prison of his mind--the beautiful, torturous, sweet prison that was Bessie Harlow.
Zac was relieved to be driving on a paved road when they drove into a small town called Cloverdale in Indiana. The small downtown area was lined with businesses along both sides of the narrow road and he pulled into the filling station that he saw on the corner ahead of them. He nearly took out the gas pump as he slowed to a stop, however, as he was distracted by looking at his surroundings for the post office. It wasn't until Isaac yelled at him that he slammed on the brakes.
The three brothers exited the vehicle while Isaac dealt with the service man who proceeded to fill up the car. Zac was more preoccupied with his letter to Bessie. "Hey," he said to Taylor as Taylor stood and closely examined the world around them. "You got the copy of that photograph you said was for Bessie?"
"Yeah, why?" Taylor asked nonchalantly, shielding his eyes from the sun.
"I want to mail it to her along with the letter I wrote her. You see a post office around here?"
"You're gonna waste time on a letter when you could just send her a telegram?"
"Tay," Zac objected. "I would love to send her a telegram. But for the things I want to say to her, that could get very expensive and we need to save what we have now before we make any more money in Boston. I think a three-cent stamp will suffice." Then he paused and looked at his older brother. "What about you? You don't want to send Aishe a telegram letting her know how your trip is going?"
"Can't," Taylor replied simply. "She can't read English."
Zac's heart broke for his brother a little bit in that moment. Zac felt bad about lamenting over Bessie and feeling sorry for himself over missing her. Taylor was going to marry this woman and he couldn't even communicate with her. He couldn't phone her, he couldn't write her, he couldn't send a telegram to her. Taylor just had to be miserable.
"I could help you," Zac offered. "If you wanted to say anything to Aishe, I could send word with Bessie. She'd be glad to help. And so would I."
A flash of discomfort crossed Taylor's face and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It's...it's okay, you don't have to do that. She's used to this sort of thing, you know? She's a gypsy. Gypsies travel, they say goodbye, they're used to absence..."
"But this is different. It's not goodbye, you're not leaving her for good--"
"Exactly."
"So why wouldn't you want to tell her you love her? Remind her you haven't forgotten about her?"
"Come on, Zac. I've come and gone quite a bit through the years, it hasn't been an issue--"
"You didn't love her then," Zac argued. "You weren't going to marry her, then. Why are you resisting this so much, do you not--?"
"Zac, just lay off!" Taylor exploded all of a sudden. Then he lowered his voice. "Look, what Aishe and I have is private. Okay? I've spent my entire life splaying my love life, or lack thereof, out there for everyone to see and this time I just...don't want everyone in our business. I'm not going to mess this one up."
"Tay, I'm not asking you to print it in the newspapers or anything. I'm just offering you the opportunity to send a message to your fiancée for you. A private one. Through Bessie. You can trust her, you know that."
Taylor was silent for a moment as he studied his brother's face and then he removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "I know," he relented. "I know. Just--we'll see. Okay?"
"Okay," Zac nodded. "Right now I just need a post office so we can get back on the road."
Big cities were grand and exciting and intriguing. But small towns were highly underestimated and under-appreciated. After two blocks down one side of the street, Zac easily found the post office and nearly shivered with relief as he walked into the glass door. The post office was a small building--small building for a small town, Zac supposed--with white, tile floors, a small wall of post boxes along one wall, and three booths along the opposite one. He stopped at a small table in the low-ceilinged establishment and plucked an envelope and a pen for himself so that he could address the letter to Bessie. It pained him that he couldn't put a return address because it was likely that by the time she got the letter, he might be ready to leave Boston. He had no way of knowing. So he took a deep breath, sealed it up, and carried it over to the first booth he saw.
The lady in the booth was a little older than him, he guessed, but not by much. She wore her hair pinned back in a bun, along with a high-collared, long-sleeved blouse. She smiled at him upon his approach, a little bit of red flushing her cheeks. "Hello, sir," she greeted him. "How may I help you today?"
"I just, uh, I need to mail this," he said to her, showing her the sealed envelope. "The quicker, the better."
"That will be three cents, please."
He fished the coins out of his pocket and handed them to the clerk, who then traded them for a postage stamp that she handed across the counter. He glanced up at her to thank her and she batted an eyelash and she smiled. "Pleasure's all mine. Anything else I can help you with?" She purred. "Anything at all?"
Zac was beginning to grow a little flustered. He was no dummy, he knew when he was being flirted with. Several months ago, he would have been all over it. But now? Now it just made him uncomfortable. "Um, no thank you," he swallowed. "That will be all."
"Okay, then," she said. "If you change your mind, I'll be here all day."
"Right," he blushed. He turned away from the table and thought better of it and whipped back around, much too much to the delight of the clerk. He fished some more change out of his pocket and laid it out on the counter. "Actually, let me have ten more of those, if you don't mind."
After a couple more minutes, he was able to affix the stamp to Bessie's letter, drop it in the mail box, and head out the post office door.
Making his way back up the street, he walked up to what looked like some sort of disagreement between Isaac and Taylor and the gas station attendant. The hood was raised on the car and Zac's heart sank. Trotting up to the scene, he placed his hands on his hips. "What's going on? She broken down?"
"Needs oil," Isaac said. "But I just changed the oil, it's brand fucking new!"
"Gotta change the oil after so many miles," the attendant said. "Not rocket science, buddy."
"We're aware, Sherlock," Zac spat at the attendant. Then he looked at Isaac. "So change the fucking oil. We gotta get this show on the road."
"Well, that requires oil. And a pan."
"So get oil and a pan."
"They don't sell oil and a pan," Isaac lamented.
"You're kidding," Zac deadpanned.
"We're a gas station, not a service station," the attendant said. "Service station is two streets over."
"That's the dumbest bullshit I ever heard," Zac said.
"No need to curse me, I didn't put it there," the attendant said.
"So," Zac said to Isaac. "Let's go get oil and a pan."
"I can't move the car," he said through his teeth, his face seething with anger.
Zac sighed and pulled his cap out of his back pocket, tucking his hair up in it. "Come on, Tay. We gotta go for a walk."
With that, the two brothers journeyed on foot so that they could come back and finish journeying by car.
_______________________________________________________
The Hanson boys had been gone over twenty-four hours now. In twenty-four hours, Bessie hadn't touched breakfast or lunch and had a bite or two of supper nearly shoved down her throat. Breakfast, again, had rolled around, and Bessie hadn't even come down the stairs when called.
Catherine understood her daughter's distress. She knew all too well what it was like to be separated from the man you loved. She'd had to deal with it during Jim's last year in college. It was torture, writing him letters every day, unable to see his face or hear his voice. She only saw him twice in the two semesters it took for him to finish and she cried herself to sleep on more occasions than she could count.
She hadn't, however, been stupid enough to conduct private relations with Jim under her parents' roof.
After having cleaned up the lunch dishes, Catherine decided that she'd had enough. Having a broken heart and longing for your lover was one thing. But downright making yourself physically sick over it was something entirely different. She sympathized with her daughter, but she also feared for her health, as well. She had tried letting Bessie have her space to work it out on her own, but now Catherine decided it was time to step in. If anything, anything in the world, Bessie needed to eat. And maybe sit in the sunshine for a little bit.
She knocked, but she didn't wait for Bessie to invite her into the bedroom. Bessie lay as she had stayed since the day before: curled up in a ball, snuggling a pillow, with the comforter bunched up around her. Walking around the bed, to Bessie's wide open eyes, Catherine stood there and looked at her with her hands resting on her hips. She was silent for a moment before she blinked her eyes at her daughter. "You missed lunch."
"I don't care," Bessie murmured.
"I'm sure your stomach cares."
"I'm beginning to doubt that."
"I see. And have you also lost awareness of how filthy your bed linens are right now?"
This comment put more life in Bessie's eyes than Catherine had seen in nearly two days. "They're not filthy."
"They are filthy. They're filthy with...with...well, I can't very well bring myself to say it, but they're filthy with the sin that was committed in this room two nights ago, I'll say that."
"Please, Mother," Bessie murmured again, her voice monotone. "You said so yourself that you didn't wish to discuss your days of courtship. I can only take that to mean that you can't be a hypocrite right now."
"You watch your tongue with me, young lady. Sure, I had some fun in my day. Your father was certainly not my...first. But I didn't talk to my parents in such a way as you are right now and I certainly didn't skip meals and make myself sick just so I could look like a useless waif by the time your father came home. Do you think Zac wants to come home to that? You think he wants to come home to a pale, skinny, sickly waif of a woman who is merely a remnant of the vibrant and beautiful woman he fell in love with? I should think not." Suddenly, Catherine bent over the bed and threw the quilt off of her daughter. "The first thing we're going to do is put some fresh, clean linens on this bed. Come on, get up. Right now."
Bessie sat up and she clenched her pillows close to her. "Mama, no. They don't need changing."
"They do need changing," she urged, picking up a corner and attempting to pull it out from under her daughter. "They are used up and they're filthy and there's no telling...well, I know what's on those sheets. They need to be washed. Or more..."
"No! I said let them alone!"
"I am your mother and this is my household and I'm telling you one last time to get your rear end off that bed so that I can wash these linens!"
As Catherine began to put her back into the pulling of the sheets, Bessie turned into a wild animal, causing her mother to step back in shock. "NO!" She screamed, pulling the sheets away from her. "YOU GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU WRETCH OF A WOMAN, I SAID YOU COULD NOT TAKE THESE SHEETS!"
Catherine gasped in surprise and the surprise quickly gave way to anger as her blood boiled, sending her over the edge and causing her to strike her daughter across her cheek with her palm. "Beatrice! How dare you use such a tongue with me! Don't you ever say such words to me again!"
Bessie had been reduced to loud sobs. The tears rolled down her reddened face and she struggled to breathe. "You can't take them, Mama! Please don't take the linens, they're all I have left of him! THEY'RE ALL I HAVE LEFT!"
In spite of herself, Catherine's heart broke and she collapsed onto the bed with her daughter and scooped her up into her arms as she rocked her and stroked the mess that was her hair. Bessie clenched at her mother's dress and wept freely into her chest as Catherine attempted to swallow her own tears. "Shh," she whispered to her daughter. "It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right. Sweetie, he's not dead, he's just temporarily away. You do understand that, don't you?"
"It hurts, Mama," she sobbed. "It hurts. It hurts so much."
"I know. I know it does. But you can't allow yourself to lay here and wallow in it. You have to life your life. You have to bathe and you have to eat and...and take Scout for a walk. The sunshine will do you good. Maybe you and Millie and Judith can go swim in the river. Or maybe we'll go on some picnics, just you and your father and I. There's Thursday nights downtown at the free picture show--maybe Mr. Anderson will let you help with his popcorn. You see, dear, there's more than plenty to do to keep yourself distracted while Zac is away. And keeping busy will make the time go by so much faster. Don't you want time to go by faster?"
Bessie nodded, her sobs transforming into hiccups. "It won't make it hurt any less."
"No," Catherine agreed. "The missing him won't go away. But think of all the things you'll have to share with him when he comes back. Those are the stories he'll want to hear, Bess. Not the ones where you starved yourself and spent your days crying for him and letting your body and your bed start to smell. He had to go work, Bess. He has to make a living, too, and this is how he does it. Men like him need women who are strong and can handle their being away for long periods of time. This is your time to shine as a girlfriend. This is your time to show him that you can be strong and handle yourself while he's away. He needs dedication and support and he doesn't need to worry that you're making yourself sick over his absence here at home. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Bessie nodded against her mother's chest and sniffed back what was left of her tears, but she didn't respond.
"Bess," Catherine said gently. "Am I getting through to you at all?"
"I'm sleepy," she murmured.
Catherine sighed and stroked her daughter's hair once more. "I have to wash these sheets, sweetheart. That's all there is to it. But I'm willing to compromise and let you keep the quilt and the pillowcases. How does that sound?"
"Can I sleep on it? Please, just let me sleep on it."
Catherine looked up to the ceiling and said a silent prayer for her daughter. For the first time in nearly nineteen years--her daughter now an adult--motherhood was finally proving to be difficult. She wondered now if she, herself, would survive her daughter's heartbreak.
__________________________________________________________
"Oh, thank goodness you ladies are here," Millie's aunt, Catherine, said as she held the door open for her and Judith. "I'm at my wits end. I've talked until I'm blue in the face and she hasn't eaten more than a morsel or two in the past couple of days. Then, just a little bit ago, she screamed at me and called me such a horrible name, I didn't think she was capable of such language. I'm very concerned, girls. She just isn't my Bessie anymore."
Catherine had phoned Millie and asked her to come over. She hadn't been specific, she'd just said that Bessie wasn't well. Having an idea what the problem was, Millie rounded up Judith and headed for her cousin's house.
"Where is she?" Millie asked.
"Where she stays. Upstairs in her bed. Moping until she falls asleep and then waking up just to mope again. She's going to make herself sick."
"That poor girl's never been through anything like this before," Judith's light voice sympathized.
"I knew she was fond of him," Catherine said. "I knew she felt like she loved him, but I never knew she was this attached to him. It doesn't seem healthy."
"It's a mutual attachment," Millie said nonchalantly as she stepped inside the house. "If she's taking it this hard, I can't imagine what Zac's brothers are having to endure right now."
"Millie," Catherine said, her voice low, as she stopped Millie from going up the stairs. "If she's this distraught over this little trip they've gone on, will she be able to handle school? If I were to discuss this with her father, he would demand that she end her relationship with Zac. Her education should be the most important thing in her life right now. Would she...you don't think she would...you know, run away with him, do you? Should we be concerned--?"
Millie shook her head. "No. No, I know Zac. He wants what's best for her, he wants her to go to school. Sending her to school will be a struggle, but she'll go, even if it's only for him."
"At the rate she's going, she'll starve herself to death before she gets there."
"No," Millie disagreed. "Judith and I will pull her out of it. She can't hide from us." She flashed a reassuring smile at her aunt and then she glanced at Judith. "Come on. Let's go rescue this damsel in distress."
Upon entering Bessie's bedroom, Millie could feel the dismalness that surrounded them. The room was filled with it: thick, melancholy, depressing air that radiated solely from the body that lay limp on the large, four-poster bed. There was no color in Bessie's face. No luster in her hair, no sparkle in her eye, no moisture in her lips. She merely stared blankly at the window across the room. She looked like a shell of the girl she used to be. Twenty-four hours. It only took twenty-four hours for her to reach this state. Maybe it was as bad as her aunt had feared.
"Oh, Bessie, sweetie," Judith cooed at her, wasting no time curling up in the bed with her. She scooped her up in her arms and adjusted the quilt over them. She looked at Millie, reaching across Bessie, and lifting the corner of the quilt. "Come on. Get in here."
As Millie made herself comfortable on the other side of Bessie, Judith rubbed Bessie's arm. "It's going to be okay," Judith assured her. "A month will be up before you know it. It'll fly by."
"I was wrong," Bessie's voice creaked out in a weak whisper. "I told him he should go, but I was wrong. I want him to come home. Why can't he just come home?"
"You know this is what they love to do," Judith said gently. "Aren't you excited about going off to school to be an art teacher?"
"No," Bessie pouted.
"Oh, yes, you are," Millie corrected. "We all know you are, it was the only thing you ever talked about...last semester..." The realization of the time passing made Millie stop and think for a moment. "Bessie, how long have you and Zac been together?"
"A month," she murmured.
"Wow," Millie mused. "It's only been a month. A lot can happen in a month..."
"That's exactly my point," Bessie replied, her voice finding a little life in itself. "A lot can happen in a month. He won't come home, I just know he won't."
"He will," Millie assured her. "He will come home, right along with Ike and Tay and things will be as they were before."
"Yeah. For one more month until we go to school in the fall."
"Well, then. Think of this as your practice run," Judith suggested. "If you can survive this, you can survive anything."
"I worry," Bessie finally admitted. "I lay here and I miss him and I worry about everything. Is he safe? Is he eating?--"
"You're worried about him eating when apparently you aren't even eating, yourself?" Millie asked incredulously.
Bessie cut her eyes at Millie. "I'm stressed," she deadpanned. "I cant eat when I'm stressed."
Millie shook her head. "Anyway, they are fine. This trip isn't any different than any of the ones they've taken in the past."
"How did you do it?" Bessie finally asked. "How did the two of you do it every time you had to leave for college or Isaac and Taylor had to leave on a trip like this? How?"
"Well," Millie replied shaking her head. "The truth was we just weren't...we weren't really that serious...I mean it wasn't difficult--"
"It was for me," Judith finally spoke up.
Millie couldn't help herself when her eyes widened in surprise at the blonde bombshell. "You could have fooled me," she remarked.
"Well, it was difficult this last semester. I didn't see any other boys this time--"
"You did so!" Millie challenged.
"Well, yes. There was the one, toward the beginning. But he was the only one. Isaac, he...well, he's never been one to show his feelings too much. But he wrote me a letter while I was in school just to tell me about something he saw one day that made him think about me. It wasn't a fancy letter, nothing extraordinary about it, but that simple gesture right there made me stop and think and I realized that I really care for him. I have real, true feelings for him, I--I think I might love him."
Millie could only be distracted for a mere second, long enough to realize that Judith had Bessie's full, undivided attention. That was definitely a sign of promise in her young cousin, but now she allowed herself to be consumed by her best friend's confession. "You love him?"
Judith nodded. "Yes, I--he made me promise me not to see any boys while he was away. And he promised he wouldn't see any other women. We've never done that before. He--he cares about me and he looks after me and he's concerned about me...even the way he kisses me feels different now. I think this is it. I think he and I could live our lives together." She paused and she looked down to poke at the quilt in her lap. "I've never missed him like this before. I understand what you're going through, Bessie. I feel so lost and so alone without him here."
"Exactly!" Bessie cried out, scaring her two friends nearly out of their wits. "Judith, that's exactly how I feel! How can there be life when he's not here?"
"Because there has to be," Millie spoke up, glaring at her cousin. "Is this really what you want him to come home to? Your hair is oily, your clothes stink, and I'm not even going to discuss your breath. The busier--and the cleaner and healthier--you keep yourself, the faster time will pass by. I know it hurts and that you miss him, but sitting around here and moping about it isn't going to bring him back home any faster. What he needs is for you to be here, looking after yourself, looking after...you know, Scout and Mr. Anderson... Men like them who travel for their work need strong women to support them because that's what it takes. Maybe I was too strong, too willing to let Taylor go, I don't know. I regret it, but I don't dwell on it. He's happy now and that's all that matters. But if Zac--and even Ike now, I guess--doesn't feel like he can leave for work in confidence that you will be okay to function without him, how can you even get married to him, Bessie? This is it. This is what you're marrying into if you ever get married. Do you understand that?"
Bessie was silent as her hazel eyes bored hard into the wardrobe across the room. Her jaw was set, her stare was firm, and her hands wrung nervously into the blanket. After a moment or two, she finally took a breath and stated, "I want to be a good wife."
Millie hid her smile. "Why don't you just be a good girlfriend first?"
Bessie turned to look at her cousin, her eyes wide. "Am I a bad girlfriend?"
"Oh, sweetie, no," Judith replied. "Not at all, not in the least. You've been the very best girlfriend that a man could ask for, it's no wonder he's probably chomping at the bit to come home to you."
"We made love in this bed two nights ago before he left," Bessie blurted suddenly, her voice quiet and monotone.
That was all it took to get the two girls out of the bed. "Okay, that's it," Millie finally said firmly. "This stops right now. You get your tail out of that bed, take a bath, and put on a swimsuit. The three of us are going to the river. Now."
After some reluctance, Bessie conceded and finally crept out of her bed. Standing in front of her cousin, she glared at her and said, "You tell my mama she can only have the sheets. Nothing else. Nothing else."
"Okay..." Millie agreed. At this point, Millie would have agreed to anything just as long as Bessie was up and walking around. Maybe before they took off to the river, she could get her to eat some lunch.
One small step at a time.
"My Dearest Bessie,
I miss you. We've only been gone for a day but it already feels like a year. It's so hard to believe that just this morning I kissed your lips and saw your sweet smile and that just last night I held you close to my heart. I can still smell the sweet melon and honey from your hair and I can hear the musical ring of your voice as you say my name. Bessie. Sweet Bessie. How I miss you so.
I must seem like a hypocrite after telling you that I need you to be strong. Especially since I cried on you last night. I don't like to cry and I don't like anyone to see me cry. You're the only person I'm truly comfortable around, Bess. You're the only one I want to know my deepest, darkest secrets and the only one who can comfort me during my most shameful of moments. That's intimacy. That is true, pure intimacy that I could never in my life find with anyone else.
We're on the side of the road now. It's dark and we're not in Boston yet, but I said I would write to you every day and this counts as a day. I promise you, I will never go a day without writing you. I don't know how long the mail will take to get to you, but I hope it gets to you quickly. We parked the car and the trailer on the side of the road next to a field of some kind. Ike and Tay are inside the trailer, sleeping, and I'm outside by what is left of the fire so that I could see to write. I slept most of today's trip in the backseat, fighting off motion sickness. I didn't get sick. I guess I'm no longer used to taking long car rides like this. Ike and Tay seemed fine, they argued most of the way. At least sleeping put their bickering to rest.
That reminds me, I'm sending a gift for you along with this letter. It's a gift from Tay, mainly, but gift anyway. He gave me one, too, and I keep it in my shirt pocket. I pull it out and I look at it constantly. It's my most prized possession. I'm not sure if it makes the missing you harder or easier, but I know that being able to see you, even in a photograph, is a relief beyond words.
Bess, I'm not sure if I even want tomorrow to come. Come daylight, we're going to be back on the road again, driving further and further away from you than I already am. This is the most difficult trip I've ever been on. I don't want you to worry about me, I just don't know where else to direct my sadness. It's strange, the way I feel right now. Part of me can't wait to get back up on that stage and perform for those crowds. It's been so long and especially up north, the crowds will be so much grander. But when I look out into them this time, you won't be there. And those two days that you were changed the way I feel about being onstage forever. There is no me without you. I never knew who I was before you came along, but I know now who I am and I know who I want to be. I am yours. Forever and always yours. Yours is the only thing I ever want to be.
I suppose I should try to sleep now. Eventually it will be my turn to drive and I hope to maybe convince Ike to let me drive a majority of the way. At least then my mind will be occupied and the trip might go by faster. Am I being unfair to Ike and Tay for feeling the way I do right now? I'm not sure exactly how close Ike and Judith are, to be honest, but Tay is getting married. The missing her has to be getting to him, but he hasn't said anything about it. Is it because she's a gypsy and she understands his need for travel? Do you think they have some kind of mutual understanding and appreciation for the other?
With Tay's help, I'm making a surprise for you while I'm away. It won't be ready until after I come home, but I hope you like it. I hope between that and the shows, my mind will be eased and time will go by faster. I'll do anything, Bessie. Anything in this world to speed up time just to come right home to you.
I don't want to stop writing because this is the only way I can talk to you. I wish you were here right now, running your fingers through my hair and helping me sleep. I think you have me spoiled with that. I'll probably never cut my hair for the rest of my life.
I really do have to sleep, though. As soon as we find a fuel station tomorrow, hopefully there will be a post office nearby and I'll mail this letter right to you. I'll write you again tomorrow. I love you so much, my sweet girl. My body may be here, somewhere in Illinois, but my heart remains right there with you. Under our tree, with our wildflowers and with that mangy mutt. Goodnight, my love. As I write this, I hope you're sleeping soundly, dreaming sweet dreams of candies and cakes and maybe the baby rabbits we saw in the flowers last week.
Yours, always and forever,
Zac"
Zac had no idea when he had fallen asleep. All he knew was that he woke up to daylight as Isaac was bent over him, shaking his shoulder. "Zac," he was saying. "Zac, come on. Why didn't you come inside last night? I can't believe you slept out here."
"Huh?" Zac said, sitting up slowly and looking around. It was early and the sun had yet to make an appearance, but the sky above them was a light blue and the dew on the grass around him was still wet. He became suddenly aware of the pain his neck felt from the lack of support underneath him and he rubbed his eyes and he looked around him, his eyes falling on the stationary he used to write to Bessie on. That was his wake up call.
"Oh!" He said, gathering his things and jumping up. "We need to find a fuel station in a hurry. Hopefully there will be a post office nearby. I have to mail this letter to Bessie first thing!"
"Gee," Isaac remarked sarcastically. "And here I thought you were concerned with the car needing more gasoline."
"Let me drive," Zac said, standing up and dusting himself off. "I'll drive tomorrow, too."
"Your current state of mind is already questionable enough. Can you really handle Taylor's insufferable mouth while he sits up there and tells you how to drive?"
"So we'll stuff him in the backseat and he can take pictures of everything. Seems like the only peace we get is when he's fiddling with that camera."
"It's a deal," Isaac said, starting back toward the car. Then he stopped and turned around. "Say, why all the sudden interest in driving?"
Zac sighed and ran a hand through his hair before thinking better of it and tying it up into a ponytail. "I gotta do something. I can't sit back there and let my mind wander, it's--it's not good. It's not good and it scares me and I just need to drive."
Isaac nodded and ran his hand through his own hair. "Okay. I can respect that. We already have the trailer ready to go, we just need to go ahead and hit the road. We seem to be making good time already, I'm afraid something will throw off our momentum."
Surprisingly, Taylor didn't complain when he was made to reside in the backseat for the day's trip and it wasn't long before Zac was lost in his own world as he steered the car down what was left of the dirt road they had found themselves on. He had thought that driving the car would keep him busy and occupy his mind, but he'd been wrong. If anything, driving only made things worse. He had finally been forced to concede to the fact that there was no escape from the prison of his mind--the beautiful, torturous, sweet prison that was Bessie Harlow.
Zac was relieved to be driving on a paved road when they drove into a small town called Cloverdale in Indiana. The small downtown area was lined with businesses along both sides of the narrow road and he pulled into the filling station that he saw on the corner ahead of them. He nearly took out the gas pump as he slowed to a stop, however, as he was distracted by looking at his surroundings for the post office. It wasn't until Isaac yelled at him that he slammed on the brakes.
The three brothers exited the vehicle while Isaac dealt with the service man who proceeded to fill up the car. Zac was more preoccupied with his letter to Bessie. "Hey," he said to Taylor as Taylor stood and closely examined the world around them. "You got the copy of that photograph you said was for Bessie?"
"Yeah, why?" Taylor asked nonchalantly, shielding his eyes from the sun.
"I want to mail it to her along with the letter I wrote her. You see a post office around here?"
"You're gonna waste time on a letter when you could just send her a telegram?"
"Tay," Zac objected. "I would love to send her a telegram. But for the things I want to say to her, that could get very expensive and we need to save what we have now before we make any more money in Boston. I think a three-cent stamp will suffice." Then he paused and looked at his older brother. "What about you? You don't want to send Aishe a telegram letting her know how your trip is going?"
"Can't," Taylor replied simply. "She can't read English."
Zac's heart broke for his brother a little bit in that moment. Zac felt bad about lamenting over Bessie and feeling sorry for himself over missing her. Taylor was going to marry this woman and he couldn't even communicate with her. He couldn't phone her, he couldn't write her, he couldn't send a telegram to her. Taylor just had to be miserable.
"I could help you," Zac offered. "If you wanted to say anything to Aishe, I could send word with Bessie. She'd be glad to help. And so would I."
A flash of discomfort crossed Taylor's face and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It's...it's okay, you don't have to do that. She's used to this sort of thing, you know? She's a gypsy. Gypsies travel, they say goodbye, they're used to absence..."
"But this is different. It's not goodbye, you're not leaving her for good--"
"Exactly."
"So why wouldn't you want to tell her you love her? Remind her you haven't forgotten about her?"
"Come on, Zac. I've come and gone quite a bit through the years, it hasn't been an issue--"
"You didn't love her then," Zac argued. "You weren't going to marry her, then. Why are you resisting this so much, do you not--?"
"Zac, just lay off!" Taylor exploded all of a sudden. Then he lowered his voice. "Look, what Aishe and I have is private. Okay? I've spent my entire life splaying my love life, or lack thereof, out there for everyone to see and this time I just...don't want everyone in our business. I'm not going to mess this one up."
"Tay, I'm not asking you to print it in the newspapers or anything. I'm just offering you the opportunity to send a message to your fiancée for you. A private one. Through Bessie. You can trust her, you know that."
Taylor was silent for a moment as he studied his brother's face and then he removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "I know," he relented. "I know. Just--we'll see. Okay?"
"Okay," Zac nodded. "Right now I just need a post office so we can get back on the road."
Big cities were grand and exciting and intriguing. But small towns were highly underestimated and under-appreciated. After two blocks down one side of the street, Zac easily found the post office and nearly shivered with relief as he walked into the glass door. The post office was a small building--small building for a small town, Zac supposed--with white, tile floors, a small wall of post boxes along one wall, and three booths along the opposite one. He stopped at a small table in the low-ceilinged establishment and plucked an envelope and a pen for himself so that he could address the letter to Bessie. It pained him that he couldn't put a return address because it was likely that by the time she got the letter, he might be ready to leave Boston. He had no way of knowing. So he took a deep breath, sealed it up, and carried it over to the first booth he saw.
The lady in the booth was a little older than him, he guessed, but not by much. She wore her hair pinned back in a bun, along with a high-collared, long-sleeved blouse. She smiled at him upon his approach, a little bit of red flushing her cheeks. "Hello, sir," she greeted him. "How may I help you today?"
"I just, uh, I need to mail this," he said to her, showing her the sealed envelope. "The quicker, the better."
"That will be three cents, please."
He fished the coins out of his pocket and handed them to the clerk, who then traded them for a postage stamp that she handed across the counter. He glanced up at her to thank her and she batted an eyelash and she smiled. "Pleasure's all mine. Anything else I can help you with?" She purred. "Anything at all?"
Zac was beginning to grow a little flustered. He was no dummy, he knew when he was being flirted with. Several months ago, he would have been all over it. But now? Now it just made him uncomfortable. "Um, no thank you," he swallowed. "That will be all."
"Okay, then," she said. "If you change your mind, I'll be here all day."
"Right," he blushed. He turned away from the table and thought better of it and whipped back around, much too much to the delight of the clerk. He fished some more change out of his pocket and laid it out on the counter. "Actually, let me have ten more of those, if you don't mind."
After a couple more minutes, he was able to affix the stamp to Bessie's letter, drop it in the mail box, and head out the post office door.
Making his way back up the street, he walked up to what looked like some sort of disagreement between Isaac and Taylor and the gas station attendant. The hood was raised on the car and Zac's heart sank. Trotting up to the scene, he placed his hands on his hips. "What's going on? She broken down?"
"Needs oil," Isaac said. "But I just changed the oil, it's brand fucking new!"
"Gotta change the oil after so many miles," the attendant said. "Not rocket science, buddy."
"We're aware, Sherlock," Zac spat at the attendant. Then he looked at Isaac. "So change the fucking oil. We gotta get this show on the road."
"Well, that requires oil. And a pan."
"So get oil and a pan."
"They don't sell oil and a pan," Isaac lamented.
"You're kidding," Zac deadpanned.
"We're a gas station, not a service station," the attendant said. "Service station is two streets over."
"That's the dumbest bullshit I ever heard," Zac said.
"No need to curse me, I didn't put it there," the attendant said.
"So," Zac said to Isaac. "Let's go get oil and a pan."
"I can't move the car," he said through his teeth, his face seething with anger.
Zac sighed and pulled his cap out of his back pocket, tucking his hair up in it. "Come on, Tay. We gotta go for a walk."
With that, the two brothers journeyed on foot so that they could come back and finish journeying by car.
_______________________________________________________
The Hanson boys had been gone over twenty-four hours now. In twenty-four hours, Bessie hadn't touched breakfast or lunch and had a bite or two of supper nearly shoved down her throat. Breakfast, again, had rolled around, and Bessie hadn't even come down the stairs when called.
Catherine understood her daughter's distress. She knew all too well what it was like to be separated from the man you loved. She'd had to deal with it during Jim's last year in college. It was torture, writing him letters every day, unable to see his face or hear his voice. She only saw him twice in the two semesters it took for him to finish and she cried herself to sleep on more occasions than she could count.
She hadn't, however, been stupid enough to conduct private relations with Jim under her parents' roof.
After having cleaned up the lunch dishes, Catherine decided that she'd had enough. Having a broken heart and longing for your lover was one thing. But downright making yourself physically sick over it was something entirely different. She sympathized with her daughter, but she also feared for her health, as well. She had tried letting Bessie have her space to work it out on her own, but now Catherine decided it was time to step in. If anything, anything in the world, Bessie needed to eat. And maybe sit in the sunshine for a little bit.
She knocked, but she didn't wait for Bessie to invite her into the bedroom. Bessie lay as she had stayed since the day before: curled up in a ball, snuggling a pillow, with the comforter bunched up around her. Walking around the bed, to Bessie's wide open eyes, Catherine stood there and looked at her with her hands resting on her hips. She was silent for a moment before she blinked her eyes at her daughter. "You missed lunch."
"I don't care," Bessie murmured.
"I'm sure your stomach cares."
"I'm beginning to doubt that."
"I see. And have you also lost awareness of how filthy your bed linens are right now?"
This comment put more life in Bessie's eyes than Catherine had seen in nearly two days. "They're not filthy."
"They are filthy. They're filthy with...with...well, I can't very well bring myself to say it, but they're filthy with the sin that was committed in this room two nights ago, I'll say that."
"Please, Mother," Bessie murmured again, her voice monotone. "You said so yourself that you didn't wish to discuss your days of courtship. I can only take that to mean that you can't be a hypocrite right now."
"You watch your tongue with me, young lady. Sure, I had some fun in my day. Your father was certainly not my...first. But I didn't talk to my parents in such a way as you are right now and I certainly didn't skip meals and make myself sick just so I could look like a useless waif by the time your father came home. Do you think Zac wants to come home to that? You think he wants to come home to a pale, skinny, sickly waif of a woman who is merely a remnant of the vibrant and beautiful woman he fell in love with? I should think not." Suddenly, Catherine bent over the bed and threw the quilt off of her daughter. "The first thing we're going to do is put some fresh, clean linens on this bed. Come on, get up. Right now."
Bessie sat up and she clenched her pillows close to her. "Mama, no. They don't need changing."
"They do need changing," she urged, picking up a corner and attempting to pull it out from under her daughter. "They are used up and they're filthy and there's no telling...well, I know what's on those sheets. They need to be washed. Or more..."
"No! I said let them alone!"
"I am your mother and this is my household and I'm telling you one last time to get your rear end off that bed so that I can wash these linens!"
As Catherine began to put her back into the pulling of the sheets, Bessie turned into a wild animal, causing her mother to step back in shock. "NO!" She screamed, pulling the sheets away from her. "YOU GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU WRETCH OF A WOMAN, I SAID YOU COULD NOT TAKE THESE SHEETS!"
Catherine gasped in surprise and the surprise quickly gave way to anger as her blood boiled, sending her over the edge and causing her to strike her daughter across her cheek with her palm. "Beatrice! How dare you use such a tongue with me! Don't you ever say such words to me again!"
Bessie had been reduced to loud sobs. The tears rolled down her reddened face and she struggled to breathe. "You can't take them, Mama! Please don't take the linens, they're all I have left of him! THEY'RE ALL I HAVE LEFT!"
In spite of herself, Catherine's heart broke and she collapsed onto the bed with her daughter and scooped her up into her arms as she rocked her and stroked the mess that was her hair. Bessie clenched at her mother's dress and wept freely into her chest as Catherine attempted to swallow her own tears. "Shh," she whispered to her daughter. "It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right. Sweetie, he's not dead, he's just temporarily away. You do understand that, don't you?"
"It hurts, Mama," she sobbed. "It hurts. It hurts so much."
"I know. I know it does. But you can't allow yourself to lay here and wallow in it. You have to life your life. You have to bathe and you have to eat and...and take Scout for a walk. The sunshine will do you good. Maybe you and Millie and Judith can go swim in the river. Or maybe we'll go on some picnics, just you and your father and I. There's Thursday nights downtown at the free picture show--maybe Mr. Anderson will let you help with his popcorn. You see, dear, there's more than plenty to do to keep yourself distracted while Zac is away. And keeping busy will make the time go by so much faster. Don't you want time to go by faster?"
Bessie nodded, her sobs transforming into hiccups. "It won't make it hurt any less."
"No," Catherine agreed. "The missing him won't go away. But think of all the things you'll have to share with him when he comes back. Those are the stories he'll want to hear, Bess. Not the ones where you starved yourself and spent your days crying for him and letting your body and your bed start to smell. He had to go work, Bess. He has to make a living, too, and this is how he does it. Men like him need women who are strong and can handle their being away for long periods of time. This is your time to shine as a girlfriend. This is your time to show him that you can be strong and handle yourself while he's away. He needs dedication and support and he doesn't need to worry that you're making yourself sick over his absence here at home. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Bessie nodded against her mother's chest and sniffed back what was left of her tears, but she didn't respond.
"Bess," Catherine said gently. "Am I getting through to you at all?"
"I'm sleepy," she murmured.
Catherine sighed and stroked her daughter's hair once more. "I have to wash these sheets, sweetheart. That's all there is to it. But I'm willing to compromise and let you keep the quilt and the pillowcases. How does that sound?"
"Can I sleep on it? Please, just let me sleep on it."
Catherine looked up to the ceiling and said a silent prayer for her daughter. For the first time in nearly nineteen years--her daughter now an adult--motherhood was finally proving to be difficult. She wondered now if she, herself, would survive her daughter's heartbreak.
__________________________________________________________
"Oh, thank goodness you ladies are here," Millie's aunt, Catherine, said as she held the door open for her and Judith. "I'm at my wits end. I've talked until I'm blue in the face and she hasn't eaten more than a morsel or two in the past couple of days. Then, just a little bit ago, she screamed at me and called me such a horrible name, I didn't think she was capable of such language. I'm very concerned, girls. She just isn't my Bessie anymore."
Catherine had phoned Millie and asked her to come over. She hadn't been specific, she'd just said that Bessie wasn't well. Having an idea what the problem was, Millie rounded up Judith and headed for her cousin's house.
"Where is she?" Millie asked.
"Where she stays. Upstairs in her bed. Moping until she falls asleep and then waking up just to mope again. She's going to make herself sick."
"That poor girl's never been through anything like this before," Judith's light voice sympathized.
"I knew she was fond of him," Catherine said. "I knew she felt like she loved him, but I never knew she was this attached to him. It doesn't seem healthy."
"It's a mutual attachment," Millie said nonchalantly as she stepped inside the house. "If she's taking it this hard, I can't imagine what Zac's brothers are having to endure right now."
"Millie," Catherine said, her voice low, as she stopped Millie from going up the stairs. "If she's this distraught over this little trip they've gone on, will she be able to handle school? If I were to discuss this with her father, he would demand that she end her relationship with Zac. Her education should be the most important thing in her life right now. Would she...you don't think she would...you know, run away with him, do you? Should we be concerned--?"
Millie shook her head. "No. No, I know Zac. He wants what's best for her, he wants her to go to school. Sending her to school will be a struggle, but she'll go, even if it's only for him."
"At the rate she's going, she'll starve herself to death before she gets there."
"No," Millie disagreed. "Judith and I will pull her out of it. She can't hide from us." She flashed a reassuring smile at her aunt and then she glanced at Judith. "Come on. Let's go rescue this damsel in distress."
Upon entering Bessie's bedroom, Millie could feel the dismalness that surrounded them. The room was filled with it: thick, melancholy, depressing air that radiated solely from the body that lay limp on the large, four-poster bed. There was no color in Bessie's face. No luster in her hair, no sparkle in her eye, no moisture in her lips. She merely stared blankly at the window across the room. She looked like a shell of the girl she used to be. Twenty-four hours. It only took twenty-four hours for her to reach this state. Maybe it was as bad as her aunt had feared.
"Oh, Bessie, sweetie," Judith cooed at her, wasting no time curling up in the bed with her. She scooped her up in her arms and adjusted the quilt over them. She looked at Millie, reaching across Bessie, and lifting the corner of the quilt. "Come on. Get in here."
As Millie made herself comfortable on the other side of Bessie, Judith rubbed Bessie's arm. "It's going to be okay," Judith assured her. "A month will be up before you know it. It'll fly by."
"I was wrong," Bessie's voice creaked out in a weak whisper. "I told him he should go, but I was wrong. I want him to come home. Why can't he just come home?"
"You know this is what they love to do," Judith said gently. "Aren't you excited about going off to school to be an art teacher?"
"No," Bessie pouted.
"Oh, yes, you are," Millie corrected. "We all know you are, it was the only thing you ever talked about...last semester..." The realization of the time passing made Millie stop and think for a moment. "Bessie, how long have you and Zac been together?"
"A month," she murmured.
"Wow," Millie mused. "It's only been a month. A lot can happen in a month..."
"That's exactly my point," Bessie replied, her voice finding a little life in itself. "A lot can happen in a month. He won't come home, I just know he won't."
"He will," Millie assured her. "He will come home, right along with Ike and Tay and things will be as they were before."
"Yeah. For one more month until we go to school in the fall."
"Well, then. Think of this as your practice run," Judith suggested. "If you can survive this, you can survive anything."
"I worry," Bessie finally admitted. "I lay here and I miss him and I worry about everything. Is he safe? Is he eating?--"
"You're worried about him eating when apparently you aren't even eating, yourself?" Millie asked incredulously.
Bessie cut her eyes at Millie. "I'm stressed," she deadpanned. "I cant eat when I'm stressed."
Millie shook her head. "Anyway, they are fine. This trip isn't any different than any of the ones they've taken in the past."
"How did you do it?" Bessie finally asked. "How did the two of you do it every time you had to leave for college or Isaac and Taylor had to leave on a trip like this? How?"
"Well," Millie replied shaking her head. "The truth was we just weren't...we weren't really that serious...I mean it wasn't difficult--"
"It was for me," Judith finally spoke up.
Millie couldn't help herself when her eyes widened in surprise at the blonde bombshell. "You could have fooled me," she remarked.
"Well, it was difficult this last semester. I didn't see any other boys this time--"
"You did so!" Millie challenged.
"Well, yes. There was the one, toward the beginning. But he was the only one. Isaac, he...well, he's never been one to show his feelings too much. But he wrote me a letter while I was in school just to tell me about something he saw one day that made him think about me. It wasn't a fancy letter, nothing extraordinary about it, but that simple gesture right there made me stop and think and I realized that I really care for him. I have real, true feelings for him, I--I think I might love him."
Millie could only be distracted for a mere second, long enough to realize that Judith had Bessie's full, undivided attention. That was definitely a sign of promise in her young cousin, but now she allowed herself to be consumed by her best friend's confession. "You love him?"
Judith nodded. "Yes, I--he made me promise me not to see any boys while he was away. And he promised he wouldn't see any other women. We've never done that before. He--he cares about me and he looks after me and he's concerned about me...even the way he kisses me feels different now. I think this is it. I think he and I could live our lives together." She paused and she looked down to poke at the quilt in her lap. "I've never missed him like this before. I understand what you're going through, Bessie. I feel so lost and so alone without him here."
"Exactly!" Bessie cried out, scaring her two friends nearly out of their wits. "Judith, that's exactly how I feel! How can there be life when he's not here?"
"Because there has to be," Millie spoke up, glaring at her cousin. "Is this really what you want him to come home to? Your hair is oily, your clothes stink, and I'm not even going to discuss your breath. The busier--and the cleaner and healthier--you keep yourself, the faster time will pass by. I know it hurts and that you miss him, but sitting around here and moping about it isn't going to bring him back home any faster. What he needs is for you to be here, looking after yourself, looking after...you know, Scout and Mr. Anderson... Men like them who travel for their work need strong women to support them because that's what it takes. Maybe I was too strong, too willing to let Taylor go, I don't know. I regret it, but I don't dwell on it. He's happy now and that's all that matters. But if Zac--and even Ike now, I guess--doesn't feel like he can leave for work in confidence that you will be okay to function without him, how can you even get married to him, Bessie? This is it. This is what you're marrying into if you ever get married. Do you understand that?"
Bessie was silent as her hazel eyes bored hard into the wardrobe across the room. Her jaw was set, her stare was firm, and her hands wrung nervously into the blanket. After a moment or two, she finally took a breath and stated, "I want to be a good wife."
Millie hid her smile. "Why don't you just be a good girlfriend first?"
Bessie turned to look at her cousin, her eyes wide. "Am I a bad girlfriend?"
"Oh, sweetie, no," Judith replied. "Not at all, not in the least. You've been the very best girlfriend that a man could ask for, it's no wonder he's probably chomping at the bit to come home to you."
"We made love in this bed two nights ago before he left," Bessie blurted suddenly, her voice quiet and monotone.
That was all it took to get the two girls out of the bed. "Okay, that's it," Millie finally said firmly. "This stops right now. You get your tail out of that bed, take a bath, and put on a swimsuit. The three of us are going to the river. Now."
After some reluctance, Bessie conceded and finally crept out of her bed. Standing in front of her cousin, she glared at her and said, "You tell my mama she can only have the sheets. Nothing else. Nothing else."
"Okay..." Millie agreed. At this point, Millie would have agreed to anything just as long as Bessie was up and walking around. Maybe before they took off to the river, she could get her to eat some lunch.
One small step at a time.