INDEPENDENCE DAY
To My Love,
I'm wearing trousers.
That's a silly way to start a letter, isn't it? But it's true. I'm wearing trousers. I hate them, but my mother made me wear them. What was even worse was that she purchased them at all. They are not worth the money she spent on them, but she insisted that they're the new fashion in Paris, according to the magazines. I told her we don't live in Paris but she said it's always good for a lady to stay ahead of the trends and that fashion always starts in glamorous cities like Paris before coming to the small ones. I'm the only female here wearing trousers. Well, besides Mother, that is. Wearing them along with me was the least she could do. And the looks we're getting are absolutely humiliating. I wish you were here. You would hate the trousers, too, but at least you would be honest about it and not just stare like I have three heads. Staring is so rude.
I'm sitting by the river on a blanket with my parents and Scout for the Independence Day celebration. Millie and her family should be along shortly and Judith is coming with them. Then we're all going to have one big picnic and watch the fireworks after it gets dark. I don't want it to get dark, Zac. I don't even want to see the fireworks. Because I know that when that happens, I will be miserable with missing you. Wishing you were beside me, wishing we were laying on the blanket together, holding hands, and watching the beautiful display together. It would be so romantic.
I got both of your telegrams today. I was so happy to hear from you that I cried both times. I couldn't help myself. I know you're upset about Billy, even though you say you aren't. I know you and I know you're up there, worrying that handsome head of yours, but you have nothing to worry about. You have my forever and my always. I worry, too. I sit here and I worry that you'll forget about me. That every single day that goes by that you don't hear from me is like me fading further and further away in your memory. Oh, how I wish I could mail you these letters. I wish there was a way that letters could be sent instantly, from one place to the next, no matter the distance. Why, we could talk all the time, even from far away! That would be swell, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, that's the sort of thing you read in storybooks, though. If I could, I would send you telegrams all day long, except that Daddy would have a fit at the cost. He's already sore about the one I sent you because I made it too long, but you know me. Once I start talking to you, I can't stop talking!
I suppose I should end this letter now. More and more people are starting to come by and greet Mama and Daddy and Mama is starting to give me the stink eye for not being more polite. So I have to put this book away. I don't know what Independence Day is like in Boston, but I bet it's magnificent. I can't wait for you to come home and share all your stories.
I love you so much. If I could, I would send you a telegram every single day just to say that. Maybe I will. It's definitely something to take into consideration.
Love Always and Forever,
Bessie
Bessie's trousers were tan-colored while her silk, short-sleeved blouse with the ruffled collar was pastel yellow and tucked securely into them. The pants buttoned above her belly button, which made her long, slender five foot six fame look even longer, and her small, black heels kept the wide-legged cuffs from dragging the ground. Admittedly, when she examined herself in the mirror before leaving the house, she found that she did look just slightly more grown up--maybe even a touch more elegant. Either way, it still didn't help the looks or the embarrassment.
Being forced to put her notebook away after their blanket became more and more frequented, the dreaded trousers were the talk of the afternoon. Women would ask her mother about hers and then she would force Bessie to stand up and take a turn around so that the ladies could see "what they're supposed to look like" on a woman. "I'm sure they can be tailored any way you might need them," she would say. "But they're all the rage in Paris right now and you know that the best of fashions start in Europe!" This generally led to the women getting the name of the store the trousers were purchased from before they found their own blankets with their own families in their lovely day dresses and sun hats. Bessie envied those women.
"Oh, stop sulking," her mother hissed at her. "You hated the swimsuit, too, but I think you've grown to like it, considering I've washed them both this past week."
Bessie couldn't deny the amount of sun exposure the new, risqué swimsuits were giving to her skin. Millie and Judith were so jealous over them that they ended up getting their own just like them. But the trousers? Trousers were for boys. The last thing Bessie wanted to look like was a boy.
Speaking of boys, she had just settled herself back down on the blanket and picked up a Shakespeare book she had checked out from the public library, when Joey Martin seemingly appeared out of nowhere and sat next to her on the free corner of the blue, plaid blanket. Startled, she dropped the book and looked at him, wide-eyed. "Joey! You nearly scared me out of my wits!"
"Hey, Bessie," he smiled. "Sorry about that. I thought you heard me coming." He reached over and scratched Scout behind his ear. "This fella sure did."
"Well, my mind was...elsewhere."
"Word on the street is your mind seems to stay elsewhere lately."
Bessie huffed and lifted her chin. "Can you blame me?"
"No," he said, glancing down at the blanket. "I suppose not."
"I got two telegrams from Zac today," Bessie grinned proudly. "I've been carrying them around, I can't help myself. In one of them, he sent me his tour schedule so that I know where he is at all times and I can telegram him when there's an opportunity. The other one was...well to tell me he's not upset with me having lunch with Billy Connors. He says he isn't upset, but I know he is."
Joey leaned back and examined Bessie, ignoring the July sun that shone in his bright, blue eyes. "Why in the hell would you do a fool thing like that?"
"Joey! Watch your language!" Bessie scolded.
"I bet Zac has said much worse in your presence," he argued. "Oh, wait. I know he has."
"Well, that's just...that's just Zac, that's the way he is. But you're not, you're not that...bold."
"You know, Bessie," Joey said, drawing up his knees and resting his arms on them. "I think there's a lot you don't know about me. And a lot you don't know about Billy Connors, either."
Bessie narrowed her eyes at Joey in confusion. "Joey, what do you--?"
"Hi, Bessie!" Judith's voice rang out cheerfully.
"Bessie, I gotta tell you something," Joey hissed.
Bessie's head was beginning to spin. Next to her, Joey was saying cryptic things, and now her aunt and uncle were arriving with Millie and Judith. As Judith was tucking her dress under her legs and making herself comfortable and her mother was helping her aunt and uncle spread out their blanket next to hers and her parents', Millie was making herself comfortable next to Joey and Bessie had no choice but to abandon the conversation.
"Bessie," Judith whispered, leaning into her. "What are you and your mother wearing?"
Of all people, Bessie would expect Judith to understand the trousers. After all, she kept up with all the latest fashion magazines, making sure her hair stayed the most platinum of blonde and her lips the reddest of red. She looked Judith over in her deep, royal blue dress with the thick, pristine, white collar and the shiny leather belt and she crinkled her nose up in jealousy. What Bessie wouldn't have given to celebrate Independence Day in a pretty dress like that.
"Mama says trousers are the latest women's fashion in Paris," Bessie answered her. "And she thought that the Independence Day picnic would be the perfect place to try them out for the first time. For all of Tulsa to point and laugh at us. So far, it's working."
"I don't know," Judith said, shrugging a shoulder. "They look like they could be comfortable. I mean, you can practically do what you want, you can be comfortable...you don't have to worry about minding a dress every time you move. I think they look nice on you. Even kind of mature."
Bessie supposed she had spent so much time lamenting over the idea of the trousers that she'd never really taken into consideration the benefits of them.
"And it's not like you have anybody to impress," Judith added. "Zac's all the way up in Boston."
That was true, too. Suddenly, Bessie was grateful for Judith's presence. "Isaac's in Boston, too," Bessie pointed out. "What are you so dressed up for?"
"Oh, you know me by now. I dress up for everything. Besides I don't want to be out of habit by the time he comes home. I think--I think I'm going to tell him how I feel about him when he comes home."
Bessie raised her eyebrows and blinked at her blonde friend. "And that is?"
"That I love him," she said quietly. "Because I do. I think about all the time we've spent together the past couple of years and I realized that we're just...really good together. I can't see myself with anyone else anymore. You know?"
"Oh, Judith!" Bessie cried happily as she threw her arms around her friend's neck. "That makes me so happy!"
"Yes, well, let's not count our chickens before they hatch," Judith chuckled. "He won't be home for awhile yet."
"Well," Bessie grinned. "I received two telegrams from Zac today. And I sent him one, too. And in the one I sent him, I told him that you and Aishe send Isaac and Taylor your love. Hopefully he told them."
"But that doesn't...that's not quite the same, I don't think..."
"Maybe not. But at least he knows you're thinking about him."
A grin crept across Judith's face, followed by a light giggle. "I do so love you, Bessie Harlow. I'm so glad you and I grew a little closer this summer. Just imagine the fun you and me and Millie will have at the university this fall!"
Bessie smiled back at her but on the inside, her heart sank. The university. Of course. That loomed closer and closer with each passing day.
It was nice spending the day with her three best friends that day. For the rest of the daylight, the four of them spent the afternoon walking around, socializing with others, eating their weight in picnic food, and talking amongst themselves. When the sky grew dark and the fireworks began, they all found themselves lost in the bright lights of the rockets that exploded into the sky above the river. She took a moment to glance over at her parents, who sat snuggled together as they watched the sky with the same wonder as Bessie and her friends did and her heart sank a little bit. The missing Zac was coming on strong and very sudden. Before she knew it, a tear was falling down her cheek at the romantic moment she knew she was missing out on. What she wouldn't give to be wrapped up in his arms at this very moment, sharing this beautiful sight with him.
Interrupting her brief moment of misery, Joey found himself a space next to Bessie on the blanket, seemingly out of nowhere, and leaned into her ear. "Bessie," he said with purpose. "I have to tell you something. I didn't trash Mr. Anderson's store."
"I know you didn't," she said into his ear under the crashing of the fireworks above them. "You were at the camp with me that night."
"I know," he said. "But I know who did it."
Her eyes widened at him and she blinked at him in surprise. "How?"
"A few nights before the party I got into a fight with my old man and I left the house to go for a walk and cool down. I ended up walking in front of the feed store and--" He paused to look around for a moment. "I walked up on Billy Connors and Lawrence Baker out there, drinking and smoking and talking about doing something to the place. They didn't say anything specific. Lawrence kept talking about 'the boys' and 'the fellas.' And Billy mentioned burning it down, but Lawrence wouldn't have it. Then Billy told him to do whatever as long as it looked like Zac did it. And then they went their separate ways. I'm so sorry, Bessie. I should have said something sooner--"
Bessie's jaw dropped and she couldn't help gaping at Joey. She wasn't even distracted by the flashing of the firework light on his face. Her heart raced and she swore she didn't think she'd ever been so angry in all her life. "You knew? This entire time, you knew! You sat there at that party in front of Zac and never said a word! He could have prevented it, Joey! He could have been waiting, making sure it didn't happen!"
"Or something worse could have happened!" Joey hissed. "They could have finished both me and Zac off! Would you have wanted that?"
"Do you want the entire town thinking that you were in the dark drawing...drawing men's private parts on the side of Mr. Anderson's building? I had to tell my daddy I was at the gypsy camp all night long with Zac just to clear your name! I ratted myself out for you! How could you?!"
"But I can't prove it, Bessie! I have no concrete proof, I can't prove what I witnessed!"
By this time, Bessie's blood boiled and she glared into the air in thought. Billy Connors would not get by with this, whether he physically played a part in it or not. She didn't care how it came out, but she would get justice for Zac, once and for all. That was the kind of girlfriend she could be while he was away.
_________________________________________________
In the density of a group of trees, set off away from the crowds of Tulsa citizens, Billy Connors, along with Lawrence Baker and their football friends, stood under the bright lights of the fireworks, the moon, and bright smoke, making their own smoke and passing around a couple of flasks. Together, they had much to celebrate. They celebrated Independence Day, the upcoming school year, Billy's ability to get around more regularly and, last but not least, the absence of Zac Hanson. As the fellas liked to laugh and joke about the condition of the feed store being what drove him out of town, Billy could only smile and smoke, knowing the truth. The truth was, he'd screwed up. According to his old man, he'd missed the mark in hitting the gypsy where it hurt and the town was singing his praises more than ever and now he was back up north, being adored by thousands just for being a has-been. Even as a poor nobody, people fell all over themselves for that guy. Billy didn't understand it.
As they talked and they smoked and they drank, Billy heard his own name in a shrill voice over the fireworks that crashed above them. Whipping his head around, he was shocked to see Bessie Harlow storming toward him with purpose.
As he looked at her with confusion and shoved his flask at his buddy, dropping his cigarette simultaneously, one of them guffawed and murmured, "What is she wearing?"
"Uh, hey, Bessie," Billy said, straightening out his shirt and running a hand over his hair. "You, uh, what are you doing here?"
She stopped short in front of him and placed her hands firmly on her slim hips and glared up at him, accusingly. "I see you're not enjoying the fireworks display with Sue Wilkerson. Would have been a prime opportunity to show her how romantic you are."
"Um," Billy felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he glanced back at his pals. "That's, uh, that's something that kind of takes time."
"Not really," she shook her head. "It really doesn't. And I would know. Maybe the reason you're not with her right now is because she knows how that you're nothing more than a dirty liar!"
"Whoa!" Billy said, his brow furrowing. "Now hold on a minute. That was unnecessary. And you know that's not true, I haven't lied about anything."
"Oh, yeah?" She accused. "Well I got a real good source that tells me that your friends," she said, pointing behind him, "are the ones who destroyed the feed store and tried to pin it on Zac! And that you are the one who told them to do it!"
Billy's heart started to pound as his mind began to race. There was nobody around anywhere where he'd discussed anything with Lawrence. Unless one of those boneheads didn't pay attention and ran their mouths in front of someone. But he couldn't do anything but deny it. He wasn't going down for that and he certainly wasn't letting his chums go down for it, either. They were still coming off of the assault charges.
"Hey!" Lawrence barked. "Maybe you ought to watch your mouth, tossing around accusations like that. Nobody's going to trust a dame in trousers anyway!"
As the boys laughed at the joke, Bessie's eyes darted around and she smoothed her hands over her pants uncomfortably. There, in that small, fleeting moment, Billy felt sorry for her. "Leave her alone, guys," he said to them. "Stop being rude, they look nice on her."
Her eyes widened momentarily, the permanent scowl leaving her face.
"Well, they do," he said gently. "They look nice."
Her nostrils flared and she cleared her throat, shaking her hair off of her shoulders. "Well, thank you. But that doesn't change the heinous thing that you did. Not only did it hurt Zac while Mr. Anderson was away, but the real person who suffered was Mr. Anderson. You should be ashamed of yourselves, he's only an old man with nobody else in this world but his sick brother who lives in Oklahoma City...and Zac."
"And you," Billy said, raising an eyebrow. "Right?"
Bessie sucked in a breath, her struggle to stay strong slightly amusing Billy. "Yes. And me, if he ever needed me."
All it took was one compliment to take her down a notch. With that, Billy knew he had control of the situation. Looking back at his friends, he excused himself and took Bessie by the elbow, leading her a few feet away. At this point, the fireworks had long since ended and had been replaced by the cheering and the murmuring of the citizens of Tulsa. "Look," he said to her softly, out of earshot of anyone else. "I don't know who your 'source' is. But they're wrong. I didn't do anything and neither did my friends. Word on the street is Mr. Anderson thinks Joey Martin did it."
"Well, he didn't. He was with me that night and I told the deputies what I knew. And your daddy was there, too, your daddy knows Joey didn't do it."
Billy was completely dumbfounded and at a loss for a comeback. His father hadn't told him any of that. His father had been sitting back and practically encouraging him to get his revenge on Zac--with good reason--but not even giving him the necessary details. His father could hold back all he wanted in the courtroom, but he would not hold back with Billy. Not anymore.
Swallowing hard, Billy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Bessie, I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to convince you that you're wrong, I don't know how to prove it, I--I mean I would if I could, you know that. I respect you and I respect your relationship with Zac. And, you know, he went through a lot when the guys beat up on him and even I thought that was taking it a bit far. Okay?"
Her eyes darted around and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I, um, I didn't know that."
"Well, it's the truth. Haven't you noticed I haven't had any contact with him since the dance?"
He let Bessie chew on his words for a moment before her small voice said, "Then who would have done it?"
"I don't know," he said. "It could have been anybody. But there's no evidence and the store is good as new now and doing better than ever, right? It wasn't a total loss. And Mr. Anderson seems to be doing just fine."
Billy was grasping and he knew it. The last thing he needed was for her to convince the judge that she thought he and his chums had something to do with the wrecking of the feed store. But judging by the way her expression had softened since the first moment she stormed up, he decided he'd accomplished his mission.
"Bessie," he said as a last-ditch effort. "If you want, I will make it my personal mission to find out who did it. I'll do whatever I can. Whatever it takes to convince you that I had nothing to do with it."
And then, to his surprise, as she tightened her arms over her chest, she looked around once more and said meekly, "Why aren't you with Sue Wilkerson?"
Well. At least he had the opportunity to be honest at least one time tonight. "Because it turns out she has a boyfriend," he said. "I never knew about it, but she's with him tonight."
"Well," she said. "That's, um, that's unfortunate."
"It is," he agreed.
"Are you okay with it?"
"Guess I have to be," he shrugged. "Tried to take a guy's girl once before and you see where that got me."
She screwed her face up in uncomfortable disgust and he decided he probably shouldn't have used that analogy. "Anyway," he continued. "I got my friends, here, it's not a problem. I'm fine. What can you do, right? Just wasn't meant to be, I suppose."
"I suppose not," she said quietly. "So, um, thank you for sticking up for me about these lousy trousers."
"I meant it," he smiled. "They are nice. They suit you. You and your...free spirit."
That garnered a smile out of her and that was when Billy knew he'd won this battle. He wanted to fall to his knees with relief.
"I need to get back to my family, they're probably ready to leave. Um, Happy Independence Day and, um, have a nice night."
With that, Bessie turned around and trotted away as Billy let out a long breath, his heart rate barely returning to normal. Turning around and rejoining his friends, he was met with a group of confused faces.
"What in the hell was that?" Lawrence asked incredulously.
Billy cleared his throat and pulled another cigarette from the pack in his pocket. "I have to get her to trust me," he said as he lit the smoke and threw away his match.
"Why?'
"Because the gypsy's gone," Billy murmured. "All three of them and that piece of trash trailer. Skipped town to New York City."
"For how long?"
Billy shrugged and blew out a puff of smoke. "I dunno. Long enough to convince his girl that I'm a saint."
"Are you kidding?" Lawrence practically squealed. "He'll come back and murder you!"
Billy smirked and shook his head as he flicked his ashes. "He's not coming back. She thinks he is, but he's not. Not anytime soon, anyway. By that time I'll have worn her down, made her mine..."
"But you don't even like Bessie."
He shrugged again. "I could. She's cute enough. She'll make a good housewife someday. She'll need to be taught a lesson or two about that mouth of hers. But it can be done."
"I don't get it, Bill," Lawrence said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I get that you don't like the guy. I get pounding on him and messing with the store he works in. But I'm not seeing the point of this Bessie angle."
"Because gypsies don't run this town!" He finally hissed through clenched teeth, his rage popping up out of nowhere. "I don't care what--what Burt Anderson or Judge Harlow have to say about it! Gypsies don't run us! They don't run our stores or sit in our churches, or date our politicians' daughters! It's degrading to this town and I've had enough of it!" Billy shifted his weight and took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. They also didn't humiliate hometown heroes, either, but he chose to leave that part out.
"Hey, Billy, you ought to run for governor," one of the other guys said.
"Maybe I will," he replied quietly. "Politics is about all I have left, anyway."
"What's that mean?" Another guy asked.
Billy's nostrils flared and his body trembled as he took another drag. "Means the doctor says I can't play next year. And maybe not just next year, either."
There was silence for a moment. Then, in the darkness, one of the younger guys blurted, "Tell us how to help you win Bessie."
Billy looked up from the patch of dark grass he'd been staring at and his mind was going a mile a minute. Truth was, he had no idea what his plan was. But if these guys were willing to help, he'd surely find something for them to do.
___________________________________________________________
The fireworks display over Boston Harbor was one of the most magnificent things Zac had ever seen. He sat by the water, his brothers flanking him, watching rocket after rocket shoot into the sky, happily lost in a fantasy of Bessie. He could just see her there with him. They'd sit the way they usually did, her body up against his, his arms wrapped securely around her. He'd lose her to the wonder of the lights, the same way he'd lost her to the talking picture, and he would love every minute of it. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on the light show for staring at her beautiful face as she smiled into the sky. She would smell of honey and melon and her skin would feel as soft as it ever did, her body heaving a contented sigh against his chest. In this fantasy he was whole and he was complete and he was with her again, happier than he'd ever been.
He'd never felt so lonely in his entire life. And day by day, hour by hour, his loneliness only grew. This had been the longest three days he had ever experienced.
He and his brothers had been encouraged to get as much rest as they possibly could. These crowds weren't typical crowds like the small town fairs were. These fairs stayed busy all day long and the breaks between shows were far and few between. If you wanted to make the money, you kept working, which was why Zac and his brothers had spent the entire day, up to about an hour ago, practicing, rehearsing, writing new lines, and testing out their equipment.
Zac's nerves were shot. He was excited and he was nervous and he was homesick. He was nervous because he was homesick and he was scared to death that he would ruin the show because of it. And he couldn't afford to ruin any shows. After all, they'd come all this way to make good money and he sure intended to use his share to get back home, even if it took every dime he had to do it. He would go home to Bessie. And he would do it in a timely fashion.
In the meantime, however, he decided that the only way he knew he would get through the first few of these shows was to pretend Bessie was in the audience. He wouldn't dare let his brothers know what his tactics were, but keeping her picture in his shirt pocket and pretending she was out in the crowd was the only way he was going to keep it together and he knew it. He needed to draw inspiration from her any way he could get it.
For the past few nights, Zac had been saying his prayers before bed. He knew Bessie said her prayers every night. And even though his relationship with God was questionable, he decided that if saying prayers was good enough for Bessie, it was good enough for him. Every single night, he silently prayed for everything and everyone, careful not to leave a single soul out. He'd found his mind wandering more and more to Burt when he said his prayers and he always said an extra prayer for him. He felt bad about leaving Bessie, but he felt horrible about leaving Burt alone. Burt was old and weak and he'd hired Zac because he needed him. And every time Zac worked with him, he realized how much he needed him--because whether he liked to admit it or not, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to run the store on his own. He hoped he'd found a good, reliable, temporary replacement for Zac until he could come home and claim his title again. He sincerely hoped that Burt didn't think that Zac abandoned him or that he didn't care. The day he said goodbye to Burt still made him feel uneasy.
Zac knew that if he kept letting his mind go on and on like this that he wouldn't sleep tonight. And sleep was crucial, so he managed to score a small bottle of liquor from a guy who stood in a dark alleyway by the hotel. He chugged half the bottle right there in the dark, before tucking it in his pants under his shirt and making his way upstairs to the room he shared with his brothers.
Feeling the warmth already coating his belly and his legs, he closed the hotel room door and locked it behind him. Isaac, being ever so observant, smelled him right away. "What the hell did you do?"
"Nothing," Zac snapped.
"You can't hide it, I can smell it. Jesus, Zac, we haven't even been on tour for twenty-four hours and you're already drinking it up! I swear to god, if you get yourself--or the two of us--in any trouble, so help me..."
"Just cool it, it's to help me sleep. I'm not trying to get drunk, I just had enough to make me drousy. Calm down."
As he kicked off his shoes, he noticed that Isaac and Taylor had both taken a bed, each, ignoring Zac's call that afternoon of having one of the beds to himself. Aggravated at Isaac at the moment, he grabbed hold of his suitcase and rounded the other side of Taylor's bed. Hiding what was left of his liquor in his case after he changed his clothes, he clicked off the lights and crawled into bed beside his brother, fluffing the pillow under his head and staring up at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was late.
As he lay there, saying his silent prayers and sending his silent love to Bessie, Taylor stirred beside him, turning his body over to face Zac. Fluffing his own pillow, Taylor hissed quietly in the darkness, "Zac."
Zac had no idea he was awake and was immediately annoyed by the interruption. Turning his head to look at his brother, he noticed Taylor's eyes wide awake in the glow of the moonlight that shone through the sheer curtains.
"You got any more of that...'stuff" left?"
At that moment, Zac's heart went out to his brother and he knew he wasn't the only one in the room having the issues he was having. Silently, he leaned over the side of the bed, reached for his case in the floor, and revealed the half-empty bottle of liquor and handed it to his brother, allowing him to finish off the rest of it. It was probably for the better, anyway. In the morning, he would find a way to dispose of the empty bottle.
"Thanks," Taylor whispered. "I appreciate it."
"Anytime," Zac replied. "Goodnight."
"I hope so," was Taylor's response as he turned back over and into his original position again.
Zac stared up at the ceiling once more and continued with his prayers. God bless Bessie, God bless Burt, God bless Aishe and her grandmother and her brothers, God bless the gypsies...God bless...
And then his eyes finally fluttered shut.
To My Love,
I'm wearing trousers.
That's a silly way to start a letter, isn't it? But it's true. I'm wearing trousers. I hate them, but my mother made me wear them. What was even worse was that she purchased them at all. They are not worth the money she spent on them, but she insisted that they're the new fashion in Paris, according to the magazines. I told her we don't live in Paris but she said it's always good for a lady to stay ahead of the trends and that fashion always starts in glamorous cities like Paris before coming to the small ones. I'm the only female here wearing trousers. Well, besides Mother, that is. Wearing them along with me was the least she could do. And the looks we're getting are absolutely humiliating. I wish you were here. You would hate the trousers, too, but at least you would be honest about it and not just stare like I have three heads. Staring is so rude.
I'm sitting by the river on a blanket with my parents and Scout for the Independence Day celebration. Millie and her family should be along shortly and Judith is coming with them. Then we're all going to have one big picnic and watch the fireworks after it gets dark. I don't want it to get dark, Zac. I don't even want to see the fireworks. Because I know that when that happens, I will be miserable with missing you. Wishing you were beside me, wishing we were laying on the blanket together, holding hands, and watching the beautiful display together. It would be so romantic.
I got both of your telegrams today. I was so happy to hear from you that I cried both times. I couldn't help myself. I know you're upset about Billy, even though you say you aren't. I know you and I know you're up there, worrying that handsome head of yours, but you have nothing to worry about. You have my forever and my always. I worry, too. I sit here and I worry that you'll forget about me. That every single day that goes by that you don't hear from me is like me fading further and further away in your memory. Oh, how I wish I could mail you these letters. I wish there was a way that letters could be sent instantly, from one place to the next, no matter the distance. Why, we could talk all the time, even from far away! That would be swell, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, that's the sort of thing you read in storybooks, though. If I could, I would send you telegrams all day long, except that Daddy would have a fit at the cost. He's already sore about the one I sent you because I made it too long, but you know me. Once I start talking to you, I can't stop talking!
I suppose I should end this letter now. More and more people are starting to come by and greet Mama and Daddy and Mama is starting to give me the stink eye for not being more polite. So I have to put this book away. I don't know what Independence Day is like in Boston, but I bet it's magnificent. I can't wait for you to come home and share all your stories.
I love you so much. If I could, I would send you a telegram every single day just to say that. Maybe I will. It's definitely something to take into consideration.
Love Always and Forever,
Bessie
Bessie's trousers were tan-colored while her silk, short-sleeved blouse with the ruffled collar was pastel yellow and tucked securely into them. The pants buttoned above her belly button, which made her long, slender five foot six fame look even longer, and her small, black heels kept the wide-legged cuffs from dragging the ground. Admittedly, when she examined herself in the mirror before leaving the house, she found that she did look just slightly more grown up--maybe even a touch more elegant. Either way, it still didn't help the looks or the embarrassment.
Being forced to put her notebook away after their blanket became more and more frequented, the dreaded trousers were the talk of the afternoon. Women would ask her mother about hers and then she would force Bessie to stand up and take a turn around so that the ladies could see "what they're supposed to look like" on a woman. "I'm sure they can be tailored any way you might need them," she would say. "But they're all the rage in Paris right now and you know that the best of fashions start in Europe!" This generally led to the women getting the name of the store the trousers were purchased from before they found their own blankets with their own families in their lovely day dresses and sun hats. Bessie envied those women.
"Oh, stop sulking," her mother hissed at her. "You hated the swimsuit, too, but I think you've grown to like it, considering I've washed them both this past week."
Bessie couldn't deny the amount of sun exposure the new, risqué swimsuits were giving to her skin. Millie and Judith were so jealous over them that they ended up getting their own just like them. But the trousers? Trousers were for boys. The last thing Bessie wanted to look like was a boy.
Speaking of boys, she had just settled herself back down on the blanket and picked up a Shakespeare book she had checked out from the public library, when Joey Martin seemingly appeared out of nowhere and sat next to her on the free corner of the blue, plaid blanket. Startled, she dropped the book and looked at him, wide-eyed. "Joey! You nearly scared me out of my wits!"
"Hey, Bessie," he smiled. "Sorry about that. I thought you heard me coming." He reached over and scratched Scout behind his ear. "This fella sure did."
"Well, my mind was...elsewhere."
"Word on the street is your mind seems to stay elsewhere lately."
Bessie huffed and lifted her chin. "Can you blame me?"
"No," he said, glancing down at the blanket. "I suppose not."
"I got two telegrams from Zac today," Bessie grinned proudly. "I've been carrying them around, I can't help myself. In one of them, he sent me his tour schedule so that I know where he is at all times and I can telegram him when there's an opportunity. The other one was...well to tell me he's not upset with me having lunch with Billy Connors. He says he isn't upset, but I know he is."
Joey leaned back and examined Bessie, ignoring the July sun that shone in his bright, blue eyes. "Why in the hell would you do a fool thing like that?"
"Joey! Watch your language!" Bessie scolded.
"I bet Zac has said much worse in your presence," he argued. "Oh, wait. I know he has."
"Well, that's just...that's just Zac, that's the way he is. But you're not, you're not that...bold."
"You know, Bessie," Joey said, drawing up his knees and resting his arms on them. "I think there's a lot you don't know about me. And a lot you don't know about Billy Connors, either."
Bessie narrowed her eyes at Joey in confusion. "Joey, what do you--?"
"Hi, Bessie!" Judith's voice rang out cheerfully.
"Bessie, I gotta tell you something," Joey hissed.
Bessie's head was beginning to spin. Next to her, Joey was saying cryptic things, and now her aunt and uncle were arriving with Millie and Judith. As Judith was tucking her dress under her legs and making herself comfortable and her mother was helping her aunt and uncle spread out their blanket next to hers and her parents', Millie was making herself comfortable next to Joey and Bessie had no choice but to abandon the conversation.
"Bessie," Judith whispered, leaning into her. "What are you and your mother wearing?"
Of all people, Bessie would expect Judith to understand the trousers. After all, she kept up with all the latest fashion magazines, making sure her hair stayed the most platinum of blonde and her lips the reddest of red. She looked Judith over in her deep, royal blue dress with the thick, pristine, white collar and the shiny leather belt and she crinkled her nose up in jealousy. What Bessie wouldn't have given to celebrate Independence Day in a pretty dress like that.
"Mama says trousers are the latest women's fashion in Paris," Bessie answered her. "And she thought that the Independence Day picnic would be the perfect place to try them out for the first time. For all of Tulsa to point and laugh at us. So far, it's working."
"I don't know," Judith said, shrugging a shoulder. "They look like they could be comfortable. I mean, you can practically do what you want, you can be comfortable...you don't have to worry about minding a dress every time you move. I think they look nice on you. Even kind of mature."
Bessie supposed she had spent so much time lamenting over the idea of the trousers that she'd never really taken into consideration the benefits of them.
"And it's not like you have anybody to impress," Judith added. "Zac's all the way up in Boston."
That was true, too. Suddenly, Bessie was grateful for Judith's presence. "Isaac's in Boston, too," Bessie pointed out. "What are you so dressed up for?"
"Oh, you know me by now. I dress up for everything. Besides I don't want to be out of habit by the time he comes home. I think--I think I'm going to tell him how I feel about him when he comes home."
Bessie raised her eyebrows and blinked at her blonde friend. "And that is?"
"That I love him," she said quietly. "Because I do. I think about all the time we've spent together the past couple of years and I realized that we're just...really good together. I can't see myself with anyone else anymore. You know?"
"Oh, Judith!" Bessie cried happily as she threw her arms around her friend's neck. "That makes me so happy!"
"Yes, well, let's not count our chickens before they hatch," Judith chuckled. "He won't be home for awhile yet."
"Well," Bessie grinned. "I received two telegrams from Zac today. And I sent him one, too. And in the one I sent him, I told him that you and Aishe send Isaac and Taylor your love. Hopefully he told them."
"But that doesn't...that's not quite the same, I don't think..."
"Maybe not. But at least he knows you're thinking about him."
A grin crept across Judith's face, followed by a light giggle. "I do so love you, Bessie Harlow. I'm so glad you and I grew a little closer this summer. Just imagine the fun you and me and Millie will have at the university this fall!"
Bessie smiled back at her but on the inside, her heart sank. The university. Of course. That loomed closer and closer with each passing day.
It was nice spending the day with her three best friends that day. For the rest of the daylight, the four of them spent the afternoon walking around, socializing with others, eating their weight in picnic food, and talking amongst themselves. When the sky grew dark and the fireworks began, they all found themselves lost in the bright lights of the rockets that exploded into the sky above the river. She took a moment to glance over at her parents, who sat snuggled together as they watched the sky with the same wonder as Bessie and her friends did and her heart sank a little bit. The missing Zac was coming on strong and very sudden. Before she knew it, a tear was falling down her cheek at the romantic moment she knew she was missing out on. What she wouldn't give to be wrapped up in his arms at this very moment, sharing this beautiful sight with him.
Interrupting her brief moment of misery, Joey found himself a space next to Bessie on the blanket, seemingly out of nowhere, and leaned into her ear. "Bessie," he said with purpose. "I have to tell you something. I didn't trash Mr. Anderson's store."
"I know you didn't," she said into his ear under the crashing of the fireworks above them. "You were at the camp with me that night."
"I know," he said. "But I know who did it."
Her eyes widened at him and she blinked at him in surprise. "How?"
"A few nights before the party I got into a fight with my old man and I left the house to go for a walk and cool down. I ended up walking in front of the feed store and--" He paused to look around for a moment. "I walked up on Billy Connors and Lawrence Baker out there, drinking and smoking and talking about doing something to the place. They didn't say anything specific. Lawrence kept talking about 'the boys' and 'the fellas.' And Billy mentioned burning it down, but Lawrence wouldn't have it. Then Billy told him to do whatever as long as it looked like Zac did it. And then they went their separate ways. I'm so sorry, Bessie. I should have said something sooner--"
Bessie's jaw dropped and she couldn't help gaping at Joey. She wasn't even distracted by the flashing of the firework light on his face. Her heart raced and she swore she didn't think she'd ever been so angry in all her life. "You knew? This entire time, you knew! You sat there at that party in front of Zac and never said a word! He could have prevented it, Joey! He could have been waiting, making sure it didn't happen!"
"Or something worse could have happened!" Joey hissed. "They could have finished both me and Zac off! Would you have wanted that?"
"Do you want the entire town thinking that you were in the dark drawing...drawing men's private parts on the side of Mr. Anderson's building? I had to tell my daddy I was at the gypsy camp all night long with Zac just to clear your name! I ratted myself out for you! How could you?!"
"But I can't prove it, Bessie! I have no concrete proof, I can't prove what I witnessed!"
By this time, Bessie's blood boiled and she glared into the air in thought. Billy Connors would not get by with this, whether he physically played a part in it or not. She didn't care how it came out, but she would get justice for Zac, once and for all. That was the kind of girlfriend she could be while he was away.
_________________________________________________
In the density of a group of trees, set off away from the crowds of Tulsa citizens, Billy Connors, along with Lawrence Baker and their football friends, stood under the bright lights of the fireworks, the moon, and bright smoke, making their own smoke and passing around a couple of flasks. Together, they had much to celebrate. They celebrated Independence Day, the upcoming school year, Billy's ability to get around more regularly and, last but not least, the absence of Zac Hanson. As the fellas liked to laugh and joke about the condition of the feed store being what drove him out of town, Billy could only smile and smoke, knowing the truth. The truth was, he'd screwed up. According to his old man, he'd missed the mark in hitting the gypsy where it hurt and the town was singing his praises more than ever and now he was back up north, being adored by thousands just for being a has-been. Even as a poor nobody, people fell all over themselves for that guy. Billy didn't understand it.
As they talked and they smoked and they drank, Billy heard his own name in a shrill voice over the fireworks that crashed above them. Whipping his head around, he was shocked to see Bessie Harlow storming toward him with purpose.
As he looked at her with confusion and shoved his flask at his buddy, dropping his cigarette simultaneously, one of them guffawed and murmured, "What is she wearing?"
"Uh, hey, Bessie," Billy said, straightening out his shirt and running a hand over his hair. "You, uh, what are you doing here?"
She stopped short in front of him and placed her hands firmly on her slim hips and glared up at him, accusingly. "I see you're not enjoying the fireworks display with Sue Wilkerson. Would have been a prime opportunity to show her how romantic you are."
"Um," Billy felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he glanced back at his pals. "That's, uh, that's something that kind of takes time."
"Not really," she shook her head. "It really doesn't. And I would know. Maybe the reason you're not with her right now is because she knows how that you're nothing more than a dirty liar!"
"Whoa!" Billy said, his brow furrowing. "Now hold on a minute. That was unnecessary. And you know that's not true, I haven't lied about anything."
"Oh, yeah?" She accused. "Well I got a real good source that tells me that your friends," she said, pointing behind him, "are the ones who destroyed the feed store and tried to pin it on Zac! And that you are the one who told them to do it!"
Billy's heart started to pound as his mind began to race. There was nobody around anywhere where he'd discussed anything with Lawrence. Unless one of those boneheads didn't pay attention and ran their mouths in front of someone. But he couldn't do anything but deny it. He wasn't going down for that and he certainly wasn't letting his chums go down for it, either. They were still coming off of the assault charges.
"Hey!" Lawrence barked. "Maybe you ought to watch your mouth, tossing around accusations like that. Nobody's going to trust a dame in trousers anyway!"
As the boys laughed at the joke, Bessie's eyes darted around and she smoothed her hands over her pants uncomfortably. There, in that small, fleeting moment, Billy felt sorry for her. "Leave her alone, guys," he said to them. "Stop being rude, they look nice on her."
Her eyes widened momentarily, the permanent scowl leaving her face.
"Well, they do," he said gently. "They look nice."
Her nostrils flared and she cleared her throat, shaking her hair off of her shoulders. "Well, thank you. But that doesn't change the heinous thing that you did. Not only did it hurt Zac while Mr. Anderson was away, but the real person who suffered was Mr. Anderson. You should be ashamed of yourselves, he's only an old man with nobody else in this world but his sick brother who lives in Oklahoma City...and Zac."
"And you," Billy said, raising an eyebrow. "Right?"
Bessie sucked in a breath, her struggle to stay strong slightly amusing Billy. "Yes. And me, if he ever needed me."
All it took was one compliment to take her down a notch. With that, Billy knew he had control of the situation. Looking back at his friends, he excused himself and took Bessie by the elbow, leading her a few feet away. At this point, the fireworks had long since ended and had been replaced by the cheering and the murmuring of the citizens of Tulsa. "Look," he said to her softly, out of earshot of anyone else. "I don't know who your 'source' is. But they're wrong. I didn't do anything and neither did my friends. Word on the street is Mr. Anderson thinks Joey Martin did it."
"Well, he didn't. He was with me that night and I told the deputies what I knew. And your daddy was there, too, your daddy knows Joey didn't do it."
Billy was completely dumbfounded and at a loss for a comeback. His father hadn't told him any of that. His father had been sitting back and practically encouraging him to get his revenge on Zac--with good reason--but not even giving him the necessary details. His father could hold back all he wanted in the courtroom, but he would not hold back with Billy. Not anymore.
Swallowing hard, Billy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Bessie, I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to convince you that you're wrong, I don't know how to prove it, I--I mean I would if I could, you know that. I respect you and I respect your relationship with Zac. And, you know, he went through a lot when the guys beat up on him and even I thought that was taking it a bit far. Okay?"
Her eyes darted around and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I, um, I didn't know that."
"Well, it's the truth. Haven't you noticed I haven't had any contact with him since the dance?"
He let Bessie chew on his words for a moment before her small voice said, "Then who would have done it?"
"I don't know," he said. "It could have been anybody. But there's no evidence and the store is good as new now and doing better than ever, right? It wasn't a total loss. And Mr. Anderson seems to be doing just fine."
Billy was grasping and he knew it. The last thing he needed was for her to convince the judge that she thought he and his chums had something to do with the wrecking of the feed store. But judging by the way her expression had softened since the first moment she stormed up, he decided he'd accomplished his mission.
"Bessie," he said as a last-ditch effort. "If you want, I will make it my personal mission to find out who did it. I'll do whatever I can. Whatever it takes to convince you that I had nothing to do with it."
And then, to his surprise, as she tightened her arms over her chest, she looked around once more and said meekly, "Why aren't you with Sue Wilkerson?"
Well. At least he had the opportunity to be honest at least one time tonight. "Because it turns out she has a boyfriend," he said. "I never knew about it, but she's with him tonight."
"Well," she said. "That's, um, that's unfortunate."
"It is," he agreed.
"Are you okay with it?"
"Guess I have to be," he shrugged. "Tried to take a guy's girl once before and you see where that got me."
She screwed her face up in uncomfortable disgust and he decided he probably shouldn't have used that analogy. "Anyway," he continued. "I got my friends, here, it's not a problem. I'm fine. What can you do, right? Just wasn't meant to be, I suppose."
"I suppose not," she said quietly. "So, um, thank you for sticking up for me about these lousy trousers."
"I meant it," he smiled. "They are nice. They suit you. You and your...free spirit."
That garnered a smile out of her and that was when Billy knew he'd won this battle. He wanted to fall to his knees with relief.
"I need to get back to my family, they're probably ready to leave. Um, Happy Independence Day and, um, have a nice night."
With that, Bessie turned around and trotted away as Billy let out a long breath, his heart rate barely returning to normal. Turning around and rejoining his friends, he was met with a group of confused faces.
"What in the hell was that?" Lawrence asked incredulously.
Billy cleared his throat and pulled another cigarette from the pack in his pocket. "I have to get her to trust me," he said as he lit the smoke and threw away his match.
"Why?'
"Because the gypsy's gone," Billy murmured. "All three of them and that piece of trash trailer. Skipped town to New York City."
"For how long?"
Billy shrugged and blew out a puff of smoke. "I dunno. Long enough to convince his girl that I'm a saint."
"Are you kidding?" Lawrence practically squealed. "He'll come back and murder you!"
Billy smirked and shook his head as he flicked his ashes. "He's not coming back. She thinks he is, but he's not. Not anytime soon, anyway. By that time I'll have worn her down, made her mine..."
"But you don't even like Bessie."
He shrugged again. "I could. She's cute enough. She'll make a good housewife someday. She'll need to be taught a lesson or two about that mouth of hers. But it can be done."
"I don't get it, Bill," Lawrence said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I get that you don't like the guy. I get pounding on him and messing with the store he works in. But I'm not seeing the point of this Bessie angle."
"Because gypsies don't run this town!" He finally hissed through clenched teeth, his rage popping up out of nowhere. "I don't care what--what Burt Anderson or Judge Harlow have to say about it! Gypsies don't run us! They don't run our stores or sit in our churches, or date our politicians' daughters! It's degrading to this town and I've had enough of it!" Billy shifted his weight and took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. They also didn't humiliate hometown heroes, either, but he chose to leave that part out.
"Hey, Billy, you ought to run for governor," one of the other guys said.
"Maybe I will," he replied quietly. "Politics is about all I have left, anyway."
"What's that mean?" Another guy asked.
Billy's nostrils flared and his body trembled as he took another drag. "Means the doctor says I can't play next year. And maybe not just next year, either."
There was silence for a moment. Then, in the darkness, one of the younger guys blurted, "Tell us how to help you win Bessie."
Billy looked up from the patch of dark grass he'd been staring at and his mind was going a mile a minute. Truth was, he had no idea what his plan was. But if these guys were willing to help, he'd surely find something for them to do.
___________________________________________________________
The fireworks display over Boston Harbor was one of the most magnificent things Zac had ever seen. He sat by the water, his brothers flanking him, watching rocket after rocket shoot into the sky, happily lost in a fantasy of Bessie. He could just see her there with him. They'd sit the way they usually did, her body up against his, his arms wrapped securely around her. He'd lose her to the wonder of the lights, the same way he'd lost her to the talking picture, and he would love every minute of it. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on the light show for staring at her beautiful face as she smiled into the sky. She would smell of honey and melon and her skin would feel as soft as it ever did, her body heaving a contented sigh against his chest. In this fantasy he was whole and he was complete and he was with her again, happier than he'd ever been.
He'd never felt so lonely in his entire life. And day by day, hour by hour, his loneliness only grew. This had been the longest three days he had ever experienced.
He and his brothers had been encouraged to get as much rest as they possibly could. These crowds weren't typical crowds like the small town fairs were. These fairs stayed busy all day long and the breaks between shows were far and few between. If you wanted to make the money, you kept working, which was why Zac and his brothers had spent the entire day, up to about an hour ago, practicing, rehearsing, writing new lines, and testing out their equipment.
Zac's nerves were shot. He was excited and he was nervous and he was homesick. He was nervous because he was homesick and he was scared to death that he would ruin the show because of it. And he couldn't afford to ruin any shows. After all, they'd come all this way to make good money and he sure intended to use his share to get back home, even if it took every dime he had to do it. He would go home to Bessie. And he would do it in a timely fashion.
In the meantime, however, he decided that the only way he knew he would get through the first few of these shows was to pretend Bessie was in the audience. He wouldn't dare let his brothers know what his tactics were, but keeping her picture in his shirt pocket and pretending she was out in the crowd was the only way he was going to keep it together and he knew it. He needed to draw inspiration from her any way he could get it.
For the past few nights, Zac had been saying his prayers before bed. He knew Bessie said her prayers every night. And even though his relationship with God was questionable, he decided that if saying prayers was good enough for Bessie, it was good enough for him. Every single night, he silently prayed for everything and everyone, careful not to leave a single soul out. He'd found his mind wandering more and more to Burt when he said his prayers and he always said an extra prayer for him. He felt bad about leaving Bessie, but he felt horrible about leaving Burt alone. Burt was old and weak and he'd hired Zac because he needed him. And every time Zac worked with him, he realized how much he needed him--because whether he liked to admit it or not, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to run the store on his own. He hoped he'd found a good, reliable, temporary replacement for Zac until he could come home and claim his title again. He sincerely hoped that Burt didn't think that Zac abandoned him or that he didn't care. The day he said goodbye to Burt still made him feel uneasy.
Zac knew that if he kept letting his mind go on and on like this that he wouldn't sleep tonight. And sleep was crucial, so he managed to score a small bottle of liquor from a guy who stood in a dark alleyway by the hotel. He chugged half the bottle right there in the dark, before tucking it in his pants under his shirt and making his way upstairs to the room he shared with his brothers.
Feeling the warmth already coating his belly and his legs, he closed the hotel room door and locked it behind him. Isaac, being ever so observant, smelled him right away. "What the hell did you do?"
"Nothing," Zac snapped.
"You can't hide it, I can smell it. Jesus, Zac, we haven't even been on tour for twenty-four hours and you're already drinking it up! I swear to god, if you get yourself--or the two of us--in any trouble, so help me..."
"Just cool it, it's to help me sleep. I'm not trying to get drunk, I just had enough to make me drousy. Calm down."
As he kicked off his shoes, he noticed that Isaac and Taylor had both taken a bed, each, ignoring Zac's call that afternoon of having one of the beds to himself. Aggravated at Isaac at the moment, he grabbed hold of his suitcase and rounded the other side of Taylor's bed. Hiding what was left of his liquor in his case after he changed his clothes, he clicked off the lights and crawled into bed beside his brother, fluffing the pillow under his head and staring up at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was late.
As he lay there, saying his silent prayers and sending his silent love to Bessie, Taylor stirred beside him, turning his body over to face Zac. Fluffing his own pillow, Taylor hissed quietly in the darkness, "Zac."
Zac had no idea he was awake and was immediately annoyed by the interruption. Turning his head to look at his brother, he noticed Taylor's eyes wide awake in the glow of the moonlight that shone through the sheer curtains.
"You got any more of that...'stuff" left?"
At that moment, Zac's heart went out to his brother and he knew he wasn't the only one in the room having the issues he was having. Silently, he leaned over the side of the bed, reached for his case in the floor, and revealed the half-empty bottle of liquor and handed it to his brother, allowing him to finish off the rest of it. It was probably for the better, anyway. In the morning, he would find a way to dispose of the empty bottle.
"Thanks," Taylor whispered. "I appreciate it."
"Anytime," Zac replied. "Goodnight."
"I hope so," was Taylor's response as he turned back over and into his original position again.
Zac stared up at the ceiling once more and continued with his prayers. God bless Bessie, God bless Burt, God bless Aishe and her grandmother and her brothers, God bless the gypsies...God bless...
And then his eyes finally fluttered shut.