LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE
"Oh, Zac," Bessie's sweet voice whispered amongst the happiness of the birds singing around them. "How I love you, so."
Zac was in heaven. High above the clouds, without a worry or a care, weightless and free...absolute heaven. The sun above them only partially shone through the clouds and his entire body lay relaxed as his head rested in Bessie's lap. She trailed her fingers delicately through his hair, her nails scraping his scalp gently and his eyes rolled in the back of his head at how blissful it felt.
The couple sat on a blanket under their tree in the clearing full of wildflowers. Life was peaceful, relaxed, and quiet. They were alone, just the two of them, just like they always were in their special place under their special tree. Zac had traveled the country, lived in luxury, seen the most magnificent of sights. But this little clearing, under this shade tree, was his most favorite place on the entire earth. And Bessie's presence had made it that way.
He smiled a content, closed-lipped smile as he stared at the backs of his eyelids. "That feels so good, Bess. I could lay here for the rest of my life if you would only do just that."
She giggled, the sound of her voice ringing like sweet music in his ears. "Well, someone is spoiled rotten."
"You know, you're the first person I ever let touch my hair? Voluntarily, anyway. Aishe would have to fight me to let her trim it up."
"Wow. You must value your hair a great deal."
"Nah," he said, shaking his head in thought. "Not really...I mean, not until recently. I didn't start letting it grow out until...well, you know, until after we moved back home and into the trailer."
"So why'd you grow it?"
Zac shrugged his shoulders against her legs. "Couldn't afford to get it cut. So I just kinda quit caring about it, let it grow. I figured tying it back was cheaper than a haircut and it keeps my hair off my neck better that way, too."
"Well...well, Taylor and Isaac both cut their hair regularly, it seems..."
"Yeah. They're a little more vain than I am. They care more about their appearances, I guess, I don't know. How I look has never really been a big deal to me."
"That's funny," she said quietly. "So you're just...naturally sexy, then."
At that, Zac's eyes popped open and he peered up at the angelic face that looked down at him. He couldn't help the smile that befell his lips. "You think I'm sexy?"
Suddenly her face turned an amusing shade of red and she smiled shyly, ducking her head into her shoulders, an action he hadn't seen in awhile. "Um, well...sure, I do. Especially considering..."
"Considering what?" Zac grinned, already having too much fun with this.
"You know..." she smiled sheepishly.
His grin widened and he chose not to press the issue. He didn't have to, anyway. He knew what she thought of him. He saw her face when she watched him sometimes, when she saw him shirtless, or when he tied his hair back. He felt her trembles and he heard her gasps. At the risk of feeling conceited, turning Bessie on brought Zac great joy. Even after deflowering her and following up on several occasions, her continued innocence astounded him.
Which was why he was slightly surprised when she commanded quietly, "Sit up and take off your shirt."
Bessie didn't have to ask him twice. Something had changed recently, he'd noticed, maybe her confidence level, that had caused her to be more demanding in her want for him. He was perfectly fine with it; overjoyed, even. He couldn't believe his good fortune, getting lucky again at her command like this. Zac was on top of the world; no man could touch him.
Doing as she wanted of him, he sat up and pulled his white tee shirt over his head, discarding it on the blanket beside him. He wasted no time getting started, cupping her face with his hand and pulling her in to kiss her. She kissed him back, however with resistance, and this puzzled him, but he continued, anyway.
Finally, she broke the kiss and she smiled shyly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "That was, um, that was nice, but...I wasn't meaning to...you know, do what you thought we were going to do."
Perplexed, and slightly disappointed, he sat back on his heels and furrowed his brow. "But you told me to take off my shirt..."
Then she giggled. "Yes. And then lay down and let me take care of you."
Zac grinned, knowingly. "Now we're on the same page--"
"On your stomach."
"What?"
"Just do it."
Reluctantly, he curled his nose up in disappointment, and did as she said. In spite of himself, he found himself comfortable in the position and, without warning, his body began to sing as soon as she touched him.
"My God," he murmured as she pressed her hands into his shoulder blades. "That feels incredible."
"My poor baby," she said to him as she kneaded into his skin. "You've worked so hard these past couple of days. I know you're exhausted and your poor muscles must ache so much."
It was true. When Zac had told Burt that he would do whatever it took to make the store right again, he hadn't been exaggerating. Despite Burt's protests, Zac had been at the store from sun up to sun down for the past two days, doing anything and everything there was that could be done. He'd painted, he'd repaired, he'd cleaned, he counted, he'd ordered, he'd swept, he'd mopped, he'd loaded trucks--he'd done it all, with vigorous enthusiasm, without a care in the world what any of it was doing to his body. By the time he climbed into bed at night, his body was wreaking its havoc and there was nothing Zac could do about it.
But this? This relief felt so good he could have cried.
"I don't exactly know what I'm doing," she confessed. "I've never done this before. But I've seen it done and I don't really know if there's a wrong way or a right way to do it..."
"I don't care," he murmured into the blanket. "Do whatever you want, I love all of it. Just...do it. It feels much nicer than whatever Judith did to me this morning, anyway."
And then Bessie's hands left his body. "Judith?" She asked quietly.
"Yeah," he replied nonchalantly. "She stayed over with Ike last night. I woke up this morning and I guess I slept on my neck wrong and said something about it or something, 'cause the next thing I know, she's digging her thumbs into my neck and it hurt like hell. She said she was working out knots, I told her she was committing murder."
Bessie was silent for a moment before, out of nowhere, her hand came down in a hard slap onto his bare shoulder. Zac was shocked.
"Ow," he remarked. "That did not feel very nice."
"Good," she shot back. "You remember that next time you let some random floozy touch all over you."
"What?" He said, turning his neck to look up at her as best he could. "She's not some random floozy, it's Judith. And she's your friend."
"Any woman who touches you that is not me is a floozy. It doesn't matter who she is."
"I think you're being a little unreasonable. She didn't mean anything by it whatsoever, she was just being helpful."
"Yeah?" Bessie countered. "Okay, then. What about the other day, when Billy Connors was trying to help me with the ice chest? What if he'd held my hand so I didn't fall in? He wouldn't have meant anything by it, he would have just been helpful. What, then?"
Zac felt the familiar warmth of rage begin to course through his veins. "That's different. Billy isn't a friend."
"Don't miss the point, Zac."
"I'd break every bone in his body, no matter what he meant," he finally confessed.
"See?" She replied simply as she began to rub his back again. "It's the same thing. I'm the only one who is allowed to touch you for any reason. And you're the only one who's allowed to touch me. Got it?"
"Absolutely," he agreed, his voice wavering as her hands turned his body into jelly.
They were silent for a couple more minutes as Zac enjoyed Bessie's hands and she concentrated diligently on her work. Breaking the peaceful silence, Bessie said, "Please don't tell Judith I called her a floozy."
Zac smiled warmly into the blanket. "Your secret's safe with me."
"I didn't really mean she was a floozy," she continued. "I just...you know, she's a woman--and a pretty one, at that."
Furrowing his brow into the blanket, he turned over onto his side, ignoring Bessie's hands against his skin. He reached up and brushed her hair off of her shoulder. "She's nice. But she doesn't hold a candle to you. You do understand that you're the only one in this entire universe just for me, don't you? I never loved anyone the way I love you, and I never will again. Only you. Do you know that?"
She nodded solemnly, pressing her palm against the back of his hand as he touched her face.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asked her, his expression serious. "I mean it. I don't just say you are because I love you. I say you are because you are. When we go out in public, men...men look at you. Billy looks at you. Tay looked at you in the beginning. And you're...you're the only one who doesn't see it. And you should see it. You should know."
She stared back at him in bewildered silence. And then, unexpectedly, a tear welled up in her eye and fell down her cheek. Her eyes fell and she wiped the tear briskly away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Sometimes all this can be so overwhelming. I've never...I've never been told any of this until I met you. I'm not used to it, I just...you know that. I've told you so many times before."
"I know," he replied with a nod. "But you just--you say all these things and you make all these references and I want so badly for you to just...understand. I just don't know how to make you understand."
She looked up at him and took in a breath, resting her hands in her lap. "Zac, do you remember when you and your brothers sang at my birthday party? When I turned thirteen? I know it was so long ago, but--"
"I remember. Your party was at the governor's mansion." Then he paused to smile. "Your cake was huge. And my hair was short."
"Yes," she nodded. "It was. Did you, um, did you look at me, then?"
He opened his mouth to speak, caught off guard. "Bessie," he whispered. "I was--I was twenty-one then. And you were...well, you were still kind of a kid back then."
Bessie nodded in understanding, her eyes falling to her lap. "Well, that's fair. I wasn't pretty back then, anyway."
"Bess--"
"It's okay. I know that I wasn't. I wasn't a pretty child. And I certainly wasn't pretty in my adolescence. And that just kind of...followed me. I went to school with everyone I knew since we were small children. No boys were ever interested in me because they knew me so well. And the only boy who ever looked at me was Joey--and we both know he doesn't really count."
"If I were your age," Zac said carefully, "and I went to school with you, I would have made you my girlfriend as fast as I could."
Bessie smiled, her cheeks red with blush, and she shook her head. "No. You wouldn't have. You really wouldn't have. It's a nice thought, though, but highly unlikely. Anyway, the point is...I'm happy that you think I'm pretty. And--and sometimes I do feel pretty. But I'm still figuring myself out, too. This past month with you has...oh, Zac, it's opened my eyes to so many things I've never known and it's a lot to take in. I just...I need you to be patient with me."
He studied her face for a moment, longing to take her in his arms, so he reached up and touched her cheek before dropping it to slide it around her waist. Pulling her down to his level, he settled her on her back, her head resting against his flexed bicep, as he rested his own head on his hand and gazed down at her face. "Tell me your dreams, sweet girl," he whispered gently.
A coy smile spread across her lips. "But you already know my dreams."
"No. I mean the real ones. After school, your entire future, everything. Even if they don't include me."
"Of course they include you," she whispered in shock. "How could they not?"
"You know what I mean."
"Well," she said lightly, her eyes searching the air above them. "My dreams are...different now than they used to be. Before, I just wanted to be an art teacher. I wanted to go to school with Millie and learn all these great things and go to football games and socials and--well, now I'm not so sure if I want to even go to school."
"You have to go to school," he replied firmly. "What about after school?"
"You."
He smiled lovingly down at her, unable to hide his happiness from her. "And then what? What happens after you come home to me?"
"Then we come back here. To this place, to this tree, to these wildflowers...and we build a house. Right here. It would have to be small, though, we don't need anything fancy. But I want a nice porch. With rocking chairs."
"A nice porch with rocking chairs," he noted under his breath.
She smiled at him, dreamily. "I love rocking chairs. It's so relaxing to just sit and rock...and I want to sit next to you on our porch in our chairs and watch it rain. And just hold your hand. And be silent. Just you and me."
She nearly brought a tear to his eye. He wanted that right now. He wanted to start building that house right that very second and he didn't want to stop until he sat on that porch with her.
"You didn't say anything about getting married," he pointed out.
"I just assumed that was a given."
"What kind of a wedding do you want?"
"I never dreamed about my wedding," she confessed. "Not like all the other girls like to do. I just...I don't know, nothing fancy--"
Zac interrupted her with a chuckle. "You're the judge's daughter. You could buy a house and have the biggest wedding in Oklahoma. It amuses me how you keep saying 'nothing fancy.'"
"Well, I'm not a fancy person," she retorted, matter-of-factly.
"I want you to have a fancy wedding. I want you to teach art and have a fancy wedding and a big house with a porch that wraps all the way around. I want you to mother our children and teach them to make crowns for their hair out of the wildflowers. I want to hang swings from the branches of our tree so they can play comfortably in the shade of it. Those are my dreams. To make sure every single one of yours is lived out to the fullest."
"Zac," she whispered up at him, the tears welling up in her eyes. Then she lifted her body and she sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I love you so much, Zac. I do. I really do. I wish we could just...do it right now. I wish we could start our lives right now."
He held her tight against his body, his arms encircling her waist and her shoulders and he pressed his cheek into her head as he hugged her back. "I love you, too," he whispered. He opened his mouth to speak again, when the shifting of his body caused the reminder in his pocket to press against his thigh. Pulling only slightly away from his love, he fished in his pocket and pulled out his grandfather's old pocket watch, checking the time. His heart sank with regret and raced with anticipation at the same time. "Bessie, baby, I gotta go," he whispered.
She looked up at him, eyes wide with hurt. "Go? Where?"
"Burt invited my brothers and I over to his house for supper tonight. I gotta get going."
Her expression changed from hurt to surprise. "Well...well, that's nice of him."
Zac smiled. "I thought so, too. This is kinda different for us, we haven't been invited to supper since...well, since vaudeville, really. I'm a little nervous."
She smiled back at him and rubbed his bare arm comfortingly. "No need to be nervous. It's just Mr. Anderson."
"Yeah. Right after his store got trashed under my watch."
"Go enjoy your supper," she said to him. "Mama will be surprised to see me on time for supper for once, anyway."
Grinning, he leaned over and kissed her tenderly, unable to get enough of her lips. Finally, he grabbed for his shirt and pulled it over his head. "Come on. I'll walk you home."
Hand-in-hand, with their dog suddenly appearing out of nowhere and following happily behind them, the pair left their shade tree and entered the woods toward the judge's house.
*********************
Burt Anderson's house was small and simple. It was made of brick with a small, white porch and a set of matching steps that led up to it. It sat on a very small patch of land that the grass was barely kept up on, and a couple of random shrubs grew next to the porch. The house boasted maybe five rooms, at best: two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It was all a single man needed--maybe a room too many. Zac didn't know, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask.
The living room was small and inviting. There were a couple of small armchairs, a small sofa and a coffee table sitting in the middle of the furniture. Zac spied a lamp or two, a few framed pictures, and a table by one of the armchairs where a small, wooden radio, shaped like a bell, sat underneath a tall lamp.
The rest of the house, from what the brothers could see, was much like the living room: small, simple, warm-colored, and inviting. It was cozy and it felt like home. Zac had almost forgotten what a "real" home felt like and it caused him to swallow a lump in his throat as his mind drifted to his parents and the farmhouse they grew up in. Winters by the fire, singing or reading or doing arithmetic as directed by their mother. Summers were spent in the yard, throwing water on each other to try to keep cool as their mother hollered at them from the porch not to get too close to the house.
As they strolled down the short, tiny hallway and into the kitchen, Zac looked around at more photos and art on the walls. Under the dim lighting, he looked around the home once more and his thoughts were brought back to the present, his heart sinking a little bit. A house was a big undertaking. He couldn't even dream enough to be able to afford to buy one. And building one? Well, that still took resources he didn't have the money to buy. It pained him, a sharp pain directly through his heart, that he would never be able to provide a house for Bessie. They could dream all they wanted to, but the reality was, he wouldn't even be able to pull off a house as small as Burt's. So what did that mean for them, ultimately? How could you have a future with someone you would never be able to take care of?
What did Bessie see in him?
Trying to ignore the weight he suddenly felt on his shoulders, Zac followed his brothers into the kitchen as Burt sat plates on the small table that sat in the middle of his small kitchen. "You boys help yourselves, everything's on the stove. I don't eat much that's fancy, so there's some meat and some beans and some collards and some bread. There's plenty there, take as much as you want."
"Um, Mr. Anderson," Taylor said.
"Call me Burt," he interrupted.
"Right. Uh, Burt. Aishe sent this along, she made it just for you." Nervously, Taylor offered the covered plate to the old man.
Burt studied the plate and then looked up at Taylor through his bifocals. "Aishe?"
Taylor's face began to turn red. "My fiancée."
"Fiancee, huh? You gettin' married?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
"Gypsy girl?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hm." Burt lifted the cloth on the plate and peeked at it. "What is it?"
"It's a type of bread. She fried it in a skillet over the fire. Seasoned it with spices. She called it...um...manriklo?" Taylor said carefully.
"Well, I can't say that," Burt said bluntly. "And I don't like to eat food I can't pronounce. But she's your fiancée and she went to the trouble, so. What the hell, let's give it a try. Thank you, son. And thank your lady for me, too. Say, after supper we'll have a celebratory cigar, what do you think?"
Graciously, Taylor smiled. "I'd like that, thank you."
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Sit down and eat, boys, let's not waste time here."
The four men were silent for most of the meal as they devoured their dinners. Zac was grateful for that. As of right now, he was so lost in his thoughts, feeling the pressure by the second, that he was afraid that if anyone spoke, it would send him crashing further down into reality. He didn't want reality right now. He just wanted peace and quiet.
Apparently, Burt wasn't willing to let that happen. "Sorry I'm not much for chit chat," he said. "I don't have a lot of company over. Truth be told, I haven't cooked this much food in...well, I don't remember how long."
"Well we sure appreciate the invitation," Isaac said. "Dinner's delicious, thank you."
"It's nothing special, really. Look, I just--just wanted to thank you boys for the work you've put in on my store. I want to thank everyone for their help, but you boys especially. You're good boys. Life dealt you a shitty hand. Tulsa can be downright shitty to you boys sometimes, I know. And I've sat right here in these parts for my entire life. I've seen people come and go, watched generations grow and...well, I think you boys are...something a little different. Not to be mushy or anything, but I like ya--all three of ya. And the three of you are welcome in my store and in my home anytime you see fit. I'm happy to have you."
Zac could only nod as Isaac and Taylor smiled and thanked the old man. He appreciated Burt. He'd never met anyone like that old man and Burt had taught him so much about the things he'd forgotten about life. He helped him remember that the world wasn't out to get him and that it wasn't always so bad. Most importantly, he taught him that no matter how bad things get, you can always get up and get back on your feet.
Zac loved that old man.
After dinner, as promised, the four men sat around the living room, puffing on tobacco in various forms. Zac listened to Burt share words of wisdom with Taylor about marriage, listing the ups and downs and tricks of the trade. Taylor took in Burt's every word, Isaac laughed along and made his jokes, and Zac, again, could only sit in silence. There were more than enough opportunities for him to cut in and voice his opinion, but he couldn't stop thinking about Bessie. He couldn't stop thinking about her sweet smile and how proud she was of him and how he knew there was nothing left for him to do but break her heart. What would she come home to in four years? A travel trailer and a part time loading job at the feed store. The same thing she would leave behind. The country was in an economic depression indefinitely. He wouldn't find work. He wouldn't be able to provide for her, they'd have no future...they couldn't spend the rest of their lives sneaking off in barns and underneath trees. In two months, Bessie would be leaving him an innocent, naïve girl--but she would come home a seasoned, mature, knowledgeable woman. She would come home completely out of his league and he would be what he was apparently destined to live the rest of his life as: a complete and utter failure.
"Zachary," Burt said all of a sudden, bringing Zac back to the present. He nodded behind him. "Come with me, boy, I got something I wanna show you."
Not really in the mood to move, yet not wanting to be rude, Zac reluctantly stood and followed Burt across the back of the room and into a small alcove that contained two closed doors. "You've been awful quiet," Burt observed. "What's gotten into you?"
Zac looked at Burt and then shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Just tired. That's all."
"It's bullshit, that's what it is. You having woman problems or something?"
Zac was silent. He REALLY didn't want to go into this. But Burt's eyes pressured him behind his thick bifocals. "She's not the problem," Zac assured him.
"You do something wrong? I'm sure she'll forgive you for whatever it is, that girl's a real loyal one--"
"I just am wrong," Zac finally relented. "I'm just...all sorts of wrong. I don't deserve that girl, I don't even know what in the hell I've done to get this far with her. I mean, yeah, she's loyal and she's proud and she's sweet and I know she'll do anything in the world for me, but for what? So I can spend the rest of my life in a travel trailer on a gypsy camp? There's nothing out there for me, Burt. Let's face it. Ike does his thing, Tay, well--one of these days Aishe and her family are going to leave and he's going to go with her and I...I'll still be nothing. When Bessie comes home from school...Burt, she's gonna find somebody better by then. Somebody who's educated, who can take care of her--his family will probably have money--"
"You're educated, ain't you? You got schoolin' didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you got that. What, you think she's gonna leave you for a rich man? Is that what this is about?"
"I can't give her the life she deserves, Burt," Zac replied in a near whisper. "I mean, what the hell am I even doing here?"
Burt studied Zac for a moment, adjusting the frames on his face, before he turned and opened the door to the room he stood in front of. Turning on a light, Zac followed him in and his eyes widened at how feminine the room was. The bedspread was lined with lace, a vanity sat in the corner with various perfume bottles and sparkly accessories, a wardrobe at in another corner, and pictures with elaborate frames adorned the walls all around the room.
"This is Edith's room," Burt said as he looked around at it. "I moved into this house some years after she passed, but I made sure she had a place to call her own. Some people might think I'm crazy for making this room for her, but I say 'screw 'em.' This is the way I keep her memory alive and nobody's gotta like it but me."
Zac could only nod as he looked around the room. Before he could say anything, Burt continued. "When Edith married me, I didn't have a pot to piss in. I didn't want the store--the family business, you know. I wanted to strike out on my own, break free from feed and farmers and the whole lot of it. And I tried. Pissed my old man off something fierce, but Edith was with me every step of the way, one failed career attempt after another. We didn't have shit for a home, we didn't have shit for money, and I eventually ended up admitting defeat and crawling back home to my old man. I was a class act back then, I tell you. Hard-headed. Stubborn. And a fool and a failure." Pausing, Burt turned and looked over at Zac. "But that woman loved me anyway. She loved me and she stuck by me and she encouraged me and rooted for me till she was blue in the face even when she knew I was failing at life. It didn't matter. I was her Pumpkin. And she was everything I ever needed. After I went back to my old man and begged for my job back, I realized that I was truly happy and I had reason to be the entire time. Son, it don't matter what you have or what you don't have--material objects just don't matter. As long as that woman looks at you like you're the greatest thing that ever walked the earth after having the worst day of your life, getting fired from your job and kicking the dirt and ready to die, that's all you'll ever need."
Closing his mouth and walking slowly across the room, Burt stopped at the vanity and surveyed its contents before carefully selecting a small, silver object. "I see a lot of my Edith in your Bessie," Burt said. "She's headstrong, she's generous, compassionate...and she loves hard, with everything she's got. Do you see what you got, son? She already looks at you like you're the greatest thing that ever lived--and you already ain't got a pot to piss in. If she wanted a rich boy, she could have one. But she don't want one, she wants you. And what you need to buck up and realize is, that's enough." Walking back across the room, he extended the small, silver object out to him. "This was the first gift I ever gave to Edith," he said. "I bartered it with a man who fancied the pipe I was puffing on that day. He never said where it came from and I never asked. But she was so proud of that little thing, she wore it in her hair every single day until the day she died. Anyway, I think it'd look real nice in your Bessie's hair. Ain't she got a big day coming up?"
Zac turned the small, silver object over in his hands. Made from good, sturdy silver metal, it had six long prongs that extended from the curved, rectangular top. The top was intricately hand-crafted into complicated, whispy designs that he knew Bessie would love. The hair pin was small and it was simple, but it was absolutely perfect.
He looked up at Burt, uncertain. "Are you--are you sure? I don't want to take anything that belongs to her--"
"These are her items in this room. All of it. But she loved each and every item in this room in such a way that I think it's about time they deserved a fresh life of their own, don't you think?"
Zac swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much. For everything."
Before he could think about what he was doing, he leaned over and he hugged the old man. He was surprised when Burt half-heartedly hugged him back instead of shoving him away like he expected.
Pulling away, he smiled at the old man, unashamed of the tears that sprang to his eyes. "You've kinda changed my life, old man. You know that? I could never repay you enough for the difference you've made in my life this past month."
Burt was silent for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at him firmly. "Just be at work tomorrow at six o'clock sharp. We got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, no time to dilly dally."
At this, Zac laughed and shook his head, shoving the hair pin safely into his pocket. "Yes, sir," he nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Oh, Zac," Bessie's sweet voice whispered amongst the happiness of the birds singing around them. "How I love you, so."
Zac was in heaven. High above the clouds, without a worry or a care, weightless and free...absolute heaven. The sun above them only partially shone through the clouds and his entire body lay relaxed as his head rested in Bessie's lap. She trailed her fingers delicately through his hair, her nails scraping his scalp gently and his eyes rolled in the back of his head at how blissful it felt.
The couple sat on a blanket under their tree in the clearing full of wildflowers. Life was peaceful, relaxed, and quiet. They were alone, just the two of them, just like they always were in their special place under their special tree. Zac had traveled the country, lived in luxury, seen the most magnificent of sights. But this little clearing, under this shade tree, was his most favorite place on the entire earth. And Bessie's presence had made it that way.
He smiled a content, closed-lipped smile as he stared at the backs of his eyelids. "That feels so good, Bess. I could lay here for the rest of my life if you would only do just that."
She giggled, the sound of her voice ringing like sweet music in his ears. "Well, someone is spoiled rotten."
"You know, you're the first person I ever let touch my hair? Voluntarily, anyway. Aishe would have to fight me to let her trim it up."
"Wow. You must value your hair a great deal."
"Nah," he said, shaking his head in thought. "Not really...I mean, not until recently. I didn't start letting it grow out until...well, you know, until after we moved back home and into the trailer."
"So why'd you grow it?"
Zac shrugged his shoulders against her legs. "Couldn't afford to get it cut. So I just kinda quit caring about it, let it grow. I figured tying it back was cheaper than a haircut and it keeps my hair off my neck better that way, too."
"Well...well, Taylor and Isaac both cut their hair regularly, it seems..."
"Yeah. They're a little more vain than I am. They care more about their appearances, I guess, I don't know. How I look has never really been a big deal to me."
"That's funny," she said quietly. "So you're just...naturally sexy, then."
At that, Zac's eyes popped open and he peered up at the angelic face that looked down at him. He couldn't help the smile that befell his lips. "You think I'm sexy?"
Suddenly her face turned an amusing shade of red and she smiled shyly, ducking her head into her shoulders, an action he hadn't seen in awhile. "Um, well...sure, I do. Especially considering..."
"Considering what?" Zac grinned, already having too much fun with this.
"You know..." she smiled sheepishly.
His grin widened and he chose not to press the issue. He didn't have to, anyway. He knew what she thought of him. He saw her face when she watched him sometimes, when she saw him shirtless, or when he tied his hair back. He felt her trembles and he heard her gasps. At the risk of feeling conceited, turning Bessie on brought Zac great joy. Even after deflowering her and following up on several occasions, her continued innocence astounded him.
Which was why he was slightly surprised when she commanded quietly, "Sit up and take off your shirt."
Bessie didn't have to ask him twice. Something had changed recently, he'd noticed, maybe her confidence level, that had caused her to be more demanding in her want for him. He was perfectly fine with it; overjoyed, even. He couldn't believe his good fortune, getting lucky again at her command like this. Zac was on top of the world; no man could touch him.
Doing as she wanted of him, he sat up and pulled his white tee shirt over his head, discarding it on the blanket beside him. He wasted no time getting started, cupping her face with his hand and pulling her in to kiss her. She kissed him back, however with resistance, and this puzzled him, but he continued, anyway.
Finally, she broke the kiss and she smiled shyly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "That was, um, that was nice, but...I wasn't meaning to...you know, do what you thought we were going to do."
Perplexed, and slightly disappointed, he sat back on his heels and furrowed his brow. "But you told me to take off my shirt..."
Then she giggled. "Yes. And then lay down and let me take care of you."
Zac grinned, knowingly. "Now we're on the same page--"
"On your stomach."
"What?"
"Just do it."
Reluctantly, he curled his nose up in disappointment, and did as she said. In spite of himself, he found himself comfortable in the position and, without warning, his body began to sing as soon as she touched him.
"My God," he murmured as she pressed her hands into his shoulder blades. "That feels incredible."
"My poor baby," she said to him as she kneaded into his skin. "You've worked so hard these past couple of days. I know you're exhausted and your poor muscles must ache so much."
It was true. When Zac had told Burt that he would do whatever it took to make the store right again, he hadn't been exaggerating. Despite Burt's protests, Zac had been at the store from sun up to sun down for the past two days, doing anything and everything there was that could be done. He'd painted, he'd repaired, he'd cleaned, he counted, he'd ordered, he'd swept, he'd mopped, he'd loaded trucks--he'd done it all, with vigorous enthusiasm, without a care in the world what any of it was doing to his body. By the time he climbed into bed at night, his body was wreaking its havoc and there was nothing Zac could do about it.
But this? This relief felt so good he could have cried.
"I don't exactly know what I'm doing," she confessed. "I've never done this before. But I've seen it done and I don't really know if there's a wrong way or a right way to do it..."
"I don't care," he murmured into the blanket. "Do whatever you want, I love all of it. Just...do it. It feels much nicer than whatever Judith did to me this morning, anyway."
And then Bessie's hands left his body. "Judith?" She asked quietly.
"Yeah," he replied nonchalantly. "She stayed over with Ike last night. I woke up this morning and I guess I slept on my neck wrong and said something about it or something, 'cause the next thing I know, she's digging her thumbs into my neck and it hurt like hell. She said she was working out knots, I told her she was committing murder."
Bessie was silent for a moment before, out of nowhere, her hand came down in a hard slap onto his bare shoulder. Zac was shocked.
"Ow," he remarked. "That did not feel very nice."
"Good," she shot back. "You remember that next time you let some random floozy touch all over you."
"What?" He said, turning his neck to look up at her as best he could. "She's not some random floozy, it's Judith. And she's your friend."
"Any woman who touches you that is not me is a floozy. It doesn't matter who she is."
"I think you're being a little unreasonable. She didn't mean anything by it whatsoever, she was just being helpful."
"Yeah?" Bessie countered. "Okay, then. What about the other day, when Billy Connors was trying to help me with the ice chest? What if he'd held my hand so I didn't fall in? He wouldn't have meant anything by it, he would have just been helpful. What, then?"
Zac felt the familiar warmth of rage begin to course through his veins. "That's different. Billy isn't a friend."
"Don't miss the point, Zac."
"I'd break every bone in his body, no matter what he meant," he finally confessed.
"See?" She replied simply as she began to rub his back again. "It's the same thing. I'm the only one who is allowed to touch you for any reason. And you're the only one who's allowed to touch me. Got it?"
"Absolutely," he agreed, his voice wavering as her hands turned his body into jelly.
They were silent for a couple more minutes as Zac enjoyed Bessie's hands and she concentrated diligently on her work. Breaking the peaceful silence, Bessie said, "Please don't tell Judith I called her a floozy."
Zac smiled warmly into the blanket. "Your secret's safe with me."
"I didn't really mean she was a floozy," she continued. "I just...you know, she's a woman--and a pretty one, at that."
Furrowing his brow into the blanket, he turned over onto his side, ignoring Bessie's hands against his skin. He reached up and brushed her hair off of her shoulder. "She's nice. But she doesn't hold a candle to you. You do understand that you're the only one in this entire universe just for me, don't you? I never loved anyone the way I love you, and I never will again. Only you. Do you know that?"
She nodded solemnly, pressing her palm against the back of his hand as he touched her face.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asked her, his expression serious. "I mean it. I don't just say you are because I love you. I say you are because you are. When we go out in public, men...men look at you. Billy looks at you. Tay looked at you in the beginning. And you're...you're the only one who doesn't see it. And you should see it. You should know."
She stared back at him in bewildered silence. And then, unexpectedly, a tear welled up in her eye and fell down her cheek. Her eyes fell and she wiped the tear briskly away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Sometimes all this can be so overwhelming. I've never...I've never been told any of this until I met you. I'm not used to it, I just...you know that. I've told you so many times before."
"I know," he replied with a nod. "But you just--you say all these things and you make all these references and I want so badly for you to just...understand. I just don't know how to make you understand."
She looked up at him and took in a breath, resting her hands in her lap. "Zac, do you remember when you and your brothers sang at my birthday party? When I turned thirteen? I know it was so long ago, but--"
"I remember. Your party was at the governor's mansion." Then he paused to smile. "Your cake was huge. And my hair was short."
"Yes," she nodded. "It was. Did you, um, did you look at me, then?"
He opened his mouth to speak, caught off guard. "Bessie," he whispered. "I was--I was twenty-one then. And you were...well, you were still kind of a kid back then."
Bessie nodded in understanding, her eyes falling to her lap. "Well, that's fair. I wasn't pretty back then, anyway."
"Bess--"
"It's okay. I know that I wasn't. I wasn't a pretty child. And I certainly wasn't pretty in my adolescence. And that just kind of...followed me. I went to school with everyone I knew since we were small children. No boys were ever interested in me because they knew me so well. And the only boy who ever looked at me was Joey--and we both know he doesn't really count."
"If I were your age," Zac said carefully, "and I went to school with you, I would have made you my girlfriend as fast as I could."
Bessie smiled, her cheeks red with blush, and she shook her head. "No. You wouldn't have. You really wouldn't have. It's a nice thought, though, but highly unlikely. Anyway, the point is...I'm happy that you think I'm pretty. And--and sometimes I do feel pretty. But I'm still figuring myself out, too. This past month with you has...oh, Zac, it's opened my eyes to so many things I've never known and it's a lot to take in. I just...I need you to be patient with me."
He studied her face for a moment, longing to take her in his arms, so he reached up and touched her cheek before dropping it to slide it around her waist. Pulling her down to his level, he settled her on her back, her head resting against his flexed bicep, as he rested his own head on his hand and gazed down at her face. "Tell me your dreams, sweet girl," he whispered gently.
A coy smile spread across her lips. "But you already know my dreams."
"No. I mean the real ones. After school, your entire future, everything. Even if they don't include me."
"Of course they include you," she whispered in shock. "How could they not?"
"You know what I mean."
"Well," she said lightly, her eyes searching the air above them. "My dreams are...different now than they used to be. Before, I just wanted to be an art teacher. I wanted to go to school with Millie and learn all these great things and go to football games and socials and--well, now I'm not so sure if I want to even go to school."
"You have to go to school," he replied firmly. "What about after school?"
"You."
He smiled lovingly down at her, unable to hide his happiness from her. "And then what? What happens after you come home to me?"
"Then we come back here. To this place, to this tree, to these wildflowers...and we build a house. Right here. It would have to be small, though, we don't need anything fancy. But I want a nice porch. With rocking chairs."
"A nice porch with rocking chairs," he noted under his breath.
She smiled at him, dreamily. "I love rocking chairs. It's so relaxing to just sit and rock...and I want to sit next to you on our porch in our chairs and watch it rain. And just hold your hand. And be silent. Just you and me."
She nearly brought a tear to his eye. He wanted that right now. He wanted to start building that house right that very second and he didn't want to stop until he sat on that porch with her.
"You didn't say anything about getting married," he pointed out.
"I just assumed that was a given."
"What kind of a wedding do you want?"
"I never dreamed about my wedding," she confessed. "Not like all the other girls like to do. I just...I don't know, nothing fancy--"
Zac interrupted her with a chuckle. "You're the judge's daughter. You could buy a house and have the biggest wedding in Oklahoma. It amuses me how you keep saying 'nothing fancy.'"
"Well, I'm not a fancy person," she retorted, matter-of-factly.
"I want you to have a fancy wedding. I want you to teach art and have a fancy wedding and a big house with a porch that wraps all the way around. I want you to mother our children and teach them to make crowns for their hair out of the wildflowers. I want to hang swings from the branches of our tree so they can play comfortably in the shade of it. Those are my dreams. To make sure every single one of yours is lived out to the fullest."
"Zac," she whispered up at him, the tears welling up in her eyes. Then she lifted her body and she sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I love you so much, Zac. I do. I really do. I wish we could just...do it right now. I wish we could start our lives right now."
He held her tight against his body, his arms encircling her waist and her shoulders and he pressed his cheek into her head as he hugged her back. "I love you, too," he whispered. He opened his mouth to speak again, when the shifting of his body caused the reminder in his pocket to press against his thigh. Pulling only slightly away from his love, he fished in his pocket and pulled out his grandfather's old pocket watch, checking the time. His heart sank with regret and raced with anticipation at the same time. "Bessie, baby, I gotta go," he whispered.
She looked up at him, eyes wide with hurt. "Go? Where?"
"Burt invited my brothers and I over to his house for supper tonight. I gotta get going."
Her expression changed from hurt to surprise. "Well...well, that's nice of him."
Zac smiled. "I thought so, too. This is kinda different for us, we haven't been invited to supper since...well, since vaudeville, really. I'm a little nervous."
She smiled back at him and rubbed his bare arm comfortingly. "No need to be nervous. It's just Mr. Anderson."
"Yeah. Right after his store got trashed under my watch."
"Go enjoy your supper," she said to him. "Mama will be surprised to see me on time for supper for once, anyway."
Grinning, he leaned over and kissed her tenderly, unable to get enough of her lips. Finally, he grabbed for his shirt and pulled it over his head. "Come on. I'll walk you home."
Hand-in-hand, with their dog suddenly appearing out of nowhere and following happily behind them, the pair left their shade tree and entered the woods toward the judge's house.
*********************
Burt Anderson's house was small and simple. It was made of brick with a small, white porch and a set of matching steps that led up to it. It sat on a very small patch of land that the grass was barely kept up on, and a couple of random shrubs grew next to the porch. The house boasted maybe five rooms, at best: two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It was all a single man needed--maybe a room too many. Zac didn't know, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask.
The living room was small and inviting. There were a couple of small armchairs, a small sofa and a coffee table sitting in the middle of the furniture. Zac spied a lamp or two, a few framed pictures, and a table by one of the armchairs where a small, wooden radio, shaped like a bell, sat underneath a tall lamp.
The rest of the house, from what the brothers could see, was much like the living room: small, simple, warm-colored, and inviting. It was cozy and it felt like home. Zac had almost forgotten what a "real" home felt like and it caused him to swallow a lump in his throat as his mind drifted to his parents and the farmhouse they grew up in. Winters by the fire, singing or reading or doing arithmetic as directed by their mother. Summers were spent in the yard, throwing water on each other to try to keep cool as their mother hollered at them from the porch not to get too close to the house.
As they strolled down the short, tiny hallway and into the kitchen, Zac looked around at more photos and art on the walls. Under the dim lighting, he looked around the home once more and his thoughts were brought back to the present, his heart sinking a little bit. A house was a big undertaking. He couldn't even dream enough to be able to afford to buy one. And building one? Well, that still took resources he didn't have the money to buy. It pained him, a sharp pain directly through his heart, that he would never be able to provide a house for Bessie. They could dream all they wanted to, but the reality was, he wouldn't even be able to pull off a house as small as Burt's. So what did that mean for them, ultimately? How could you have a future with someone you would never be able to take care of?
What did Bessie see in him?
Trying to ignore the weight he suddenly felt on his shoulders, Zac followed his brothers into the kitchen as Burt sat plates on the small table that sat in the middle of his small kitchen. "You boys help yourselves, everything's on the stove. I don't eat much that's fancy, so there's some meat and some beans and some collards and some bread. There's plenty there, take as much as you want."
"Um, Mr. Anderson," Taylor said.
"Call me Burt," he interrupted.
"Right. Uh, Burt. Aishe sent this along, she made it just for you." Nervously, Taylor offered the covered plate to the old man.
Burt studied the plate and then looked up at Taylor through his bifocals. "Aishe?"
Taylor's face began to turn red. "My fiancée."
"Fiancee, huh? You gettin' married?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
"Gypsy girl?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hm." Burt lifted the cloth on the plate and peeked at it. "What is it?"
"It's a type of bread. She fried it in a skillet over the fire. Seasoned it with spices. She called it...um...manriklo?" Taylor said carefully.
"Well, I can't say that," Burt said bluntly. "And I don't like to eat food I can't pronounce. But she's your fiancée and she went to the trouble, so. What the hell, let's give it a try. Thank you, son. And thank your lady for me, too. Say, after supper we'll have a celebratory cigar, what do you think?"
Graciously, Taylor smiled. "I'd like that, thank you."
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Sit down and eat, boys, let's not waste time here."
The four men were silent for most of the meal as they devoured their dinners. Zac was grateful for that. As of right now, he was so lost in his thoughts, feeling the pressure by the second, that he was afraid that if anyone spoke, it would send him crashing further down into reality. He didn't want reality right now. He just wanted peace and quiet.
Apparently, Burt wasn't willing to let that happen. "Sorry I'm not much for chit chat," he said. "I don't have a lot of company over. Truth be told, I haven't cooked this much food in...well, I don't remember how long."
"Well we sure appreciate the invitation," Isaac said. "Dinner's delicious, thank you."
"It's nothing special, really. Look, I just--just wanted to thank you boys for the work you've put in on my store. I want to thank everyone for their help, but you boys especially. You're good boys. Life dealt you a shitty hand. Tulsa can be downright shitty to you boys sometimes, I know. And I've sat right here in these parts for my entire life. I've seen people come and go, watched generations grow and...well, I think you boys are...something a little different. Not to be mushy or anything, but I like ya--all three of ya. And the three of you are welcome in my store and in my home anytime you see fit. I'm happy to have you."
Zac could only nod as Isaac and Taylor smiled and thanked the old man. He appreciated Burt. He'd never met anyone like that old man and Burt had taught him so much about the things he'd forgotten about life. He helped him remember that the world wasn't out to get him and that it wasn't always so bad. Most importantly, he taught him that no matter how bad things get, you can always get up and get back on your feet.
Zac loved that old man.
After dinner, as promised, the four men sat around the living room, puffing on tobacco in various forms. Zac listened to Burt share words of wisdom with Taylor about marriage, listing the ups and downs and tricks of the trade. Taylor took in Burt's every word, Isaac laughed along and made his jokes, and Zac, again, could only sit in silence. There were more than enough opportunities for him to cut in and voice his opinion, but he couldn't stop thinking about Bessie. He couldn't stop thinking about her sweet smile and how proud she was of him and how he knew there was nothing left for him to do but break her heart. What would she come home to in four years? A travel trailer and a part time loading job at the feed store. The same thing she would leave behind. The country was in an economic depression indefinitely. He wouldn't find work. He wouldn't be able to provide for her, they'd have no future...they couldn't spend the rest of their lives sneaking off in barns and underneath trees. In two months, Bessie would be leaving him an innocent, naïve girl--but she would come home a seasoned, mature, knowledgeable woman. She would come home completely out of his league and he would be what he was apparently destined to live the rest of his life as: a complete and utter failure.
"Zachary," Burt said all of a sudden, bringing Zac back to the present. He nodded behind him. "Come with me, boy, I got something I wanna show you."
Not really in the mood to move, yet not wanting to be rude, Zac reluctantly stood and followed Burt across the back of the room and into a small alcove that contained two closed doors. "You've been awful quiet," Burt observed. "What's gotten into you?"
Zac looked at Burt and then shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Just tired. That's all."
"It's bullshit, that's what it is. You having woman problems or something?"
Zac was silent. He REALLY didn't want to go into this. But Burt's eyes pressured him behind his thick bifocals. "She's not the problem," Zac assured him.
"You do something wrong? I'm sure she'll forgive you for whatever it is, that girl's a real loyal one--"
"I just am wrong," Zac finally relented. "I'm just...all sorts of wrong. I don't deserve that girl, I don't even know what in the hell I've done to get this far with her. I mean, yeah, she's loyal and she's proud and she's sweet and I know she'll do anything in the world for me, but for what? So I can spend the rest of my life in a travel trailer on a gypsy camp? There's nothing out there for me, Burt. Let's face it. Ike does his thing, Tay, well--one of these days Aishe and her family are going to leave and he's going to go with her and I...I'll still be nothing. When Bessie comes home from school...Burt, she's gonna find somebody better by then. Somebody who's educated, who can take care of her--his family will probably have money--"
"You're educated, ain't you? You got schoolin' didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you got that. What, you think she's gonna leave you for a rich man? Is that what this is about?"
"I can't give her the life she deserves, Burt," Zac replied in a near whisper. "I mean, what the hell am I even doing here?"
Burt studied Zac for a moment, adjusting the frames on his face, before he turned and opened the door to the room he stood in front of. Turning on a light, Zac followed him in and his eyes widened at how feminine the room was. The bedspread was lined with lace, a vanity sat in the corner with various perfume bottles and sparkly accessories, a wardrobe at in another corner, and pictures with elaborate frames adorned the walls all around the room.
"This is Edith's room," Burt said as he looked around at it. "I moved into this house some years after she passed, but I made sure she had a place to call her own. Some people might think I'm crazy for making this room for her, but I say 'screw 'em.' This is the way I keep her memory alive and nobody's gotta like it but me."
Zac could only nod as he looked around the room. Before he could say anything, Burt continued. "When Edith married me, I didn't have a pot to piss in. I didn't want the store--the family business, you know. I wanted to strike out on my own, break free from feed and farmers and the whole lot of it. And I tried. Pissed my old man off something fierce, but Edith was with me every step of the way, one failed career attempt after another. We didn't have shit for a home, we didn't have shit for money, and I eventually ended up admitting defeat and crawling back home to my old man. I was a class act back then, I tell you. Hard-headed. Stubborn. And a fool and a failure." Pausing, Burt turned and looked over at Zac. "But that woman loved me anyway. She loved me and she stuck by me and she encouraged me and rooted for me till she was blue in the face even when she knew I was failing at life. It didn't matter. I was her Pumpkin. And she was everything I ever needed. After I went back to my old man and begged for my job back, I realized that I was truly happy and I had reason to be the entire time. Son, it don't matter what you have or what you don't have--material objects just don't matter. As long as that woman looks at you like you're the greatest thing that ever walked the earth after having the worst day of your life, getting fired from your job and kicking the dirt and ready to die, that's all you'll ever need."
Closing his mouth and walking slowly across the room, Burt stopped at the vanity and surveyed its contents before carefully selecting a small, silver object. "I see a lot of my Edith in your Bessie," Burt said. "She's headstrong, she's generous, compassionate...and she loves hard, with everything she's got. Do you see what you got, son? She already looks at you like you're the greatest thing that ever lived--and you already ain't got a pot to piss in. If she wanted a rich boy, she could have one. But she don't want one, she wants you. And what you need to buck up and realize is, that's enough." Walking back across the room, he extended the small, silver object out to him. "This was the first gift I ever gave to Edith," he said. "I bartered it with a man who fancied the pipe I was puffing on that day. He never said where it came from and I never asked. But she was so proud of that little thing, she wore it in her hair every single day until the day she died. Anyway, I think it'd look real nice in your Bessie's hair. Ain't she got a big day coming up?"
Zac turned the small, silver object over in his hands. Made from good, sturdy silver metal, it had six long prongs that extended from the curved, rectangular top. The top was intricately hand-crafted into complicated, whispy designs that he knew Bessie would love. The hair pin was small and it was simple, but it was absolutely perfect.
He looked up at Burt, uncertain. "Are you--are you sure? I don't want to take anything that belongs to her--"
"These are her items in this room. All of it. But she loved each and every item in this room in such a way that I think it's about time they deserved a fresh life of their own, don't you think?"
Zac swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much. For everything."
Before he could think about what he was doing, he leaned over and he hugged the old man. He was surprised when Burt half-heartedly hugged him back instead of shoving him away like he expected.
Pulling away, he smiled at the old man, unashamed of the tears that sprang to his eyes. "You've kinda changed my life, old man. You know that? I could never repay you enough for the difference you've made in my life this past month."
Burt was silent for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at him firmly. "Just be at work tomorrow at six o'clock sharp. We got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, no time to dilly dally."
At this, Zac laughed and shook his head, shoving the hair pin safely into his pocket. "Yes, sir," he nodded. "Yes, sir."