OKLAHOMA CITY
TO MY LOVE
I JUST WANTED TO TELEGRAM AND LET YOU KNOW NOT TO SEND ME ANY TELEGRAMS FOR THE NEXT FOUR DAYS STOP I WILL BE VISITING MY GRANDPARENTS IN OKLAHOMA CITY STOP ALSO DADDY ARRANGED A TOUR OF THE UNIVERSITY WHILE WE ARE THERE STOP I SUPPOSE IT'S GETTING REAL NOW STOP
I HOPE YOU ARE WELL AND NEVER FORGET THAT I LOVE YOU STOP
YOURS FOREVER
BESSIE
The ride to Oklahoma City was a long one. Especially while sharing the backseat with a large, furry beast.
An argument ensued between the women of the Harlow household about the proper placement and boarding of the scoundrel. While Bessie's mother argued that a long trip in a car was no place for a dog, Bessie pointed out that there was nowhere for him to go now that Zac was gone and that he was so much more well-behaved since Mr. Anderson had taught her how to control him. Her mother came back with a statement about how Bessie's father's parents were much too old and much too sophisticated to allow such a mangy stray within five miles of their estate and Bessie shouted back that she'd caught her mother on at least a handful of occasions, slipping the "mangy mutt" table scraps when she thought no one was looking.
Finally, the judge stepped in and reminded his wife of the pair of St. Bernards that had the complete run of his parents' mansion, including access to the kitchen and every inch of upholstery on every floor of the house and this was how Scout was now happily hanging both his head and his tongue out the backseat window as the Harlows and Millie traveled a steady fifty miles per hour down the highway.
As Bessie rode in the backseat of the car, sandwiched between Millie and Scout, she was overcome with boredom. The road was too bumpy to write a letter to Zac or sketch a picture, there was nothing but farmland as far as the eye could see, and any conversation she wanted to have with Millie couldn't be had in front of her parents. It was the longest, hottest, most boring two hours of her life.
Bessie's and Millie's grandparents, John and Elizabeth Harlow, lived on a sprawling estate of two-hundred and fifty acres, farmland that had been accumulated and utilized over time. The Harlow family fortune had originally begun in farming and was built up secondhand by political government. Aside from being a member of Oklahoma's upper crust society, holding many a prestigious office in the state's government, John Harlow also excelled in the farming of wheat and corn, in turn investing his profits in the stock market and more than quadrupling his earnings. Bessie's father grew up with firsthand knowledge of the family farm, his father firmly believing that the more you knew, the more you made, so he made sure that his children were more than sufficiently educated and capable of leading and living fruitful and successful lives.
Upon passing the bar and coming home to marry her mother, Bessie's father took a position as an attorney in Tulsa and left Oklahoma City to build a life for himself and his new bride. To start, the couple lived small and simple, her mother caring for the home while her father worked, as she was raised a kept and privileged girl who had never seen the inside of a college classroom. It was a shock for her to move with her new husband and into a small apartment home as he refused help from his father, determined to make it on his own. It wasn't long, however, that he did use the smarts he was raised on and he did make it on his own, being elected judge at a young age and buying the farmhouse out in the country that would further supplement their small fortune that they were quickly accumulating, just the way his father did. By the time Bessie was three years old, the Harlows' wealth had grown three times over and they grew used to their luxurious lifestyle, raising Bessie accordingly.
When the stock market crashed in 1929 when Bessie was a young and impressionable fourteen-year-old, the lives that the family knew seemed to come to a standstill. The bank had lost a heavy chunk of the Harlows' savings, crop sales plummeted, and Jim Harlow was forced to abandon his farm. This caused the Harlows to take a step back and reexamine the way they lived their lives, now only relying on Jim's regular salary and the little bit that still trickled in from his stock market investments and, after a long conversation with each other, and then with Bessie, the couple decided that they wouldn't let this change affect them and they chose to embrace it and adapt to it. Through this, Bessie learned the value of a dollar, the value of hard work, and what it meant to appreciate the small things in life. She never took a single thing for granted, she never complained, and she regretted nothing. Four years later, the country still heavy under a depression, their luxurious socialite lifestyles seemingly a thing of the past, Bessie loved her parents and she loved her life. Honestly, Bessie didn't miss her father in white gloves and stirring tea with silver spoons and eating cream that was worth more than the car they rode to Oklahoma City in. Bessie liked it simple, she liked it easy, she liked it free.
Her grandparents, on the other hand, were still very much set in their ways.
Bessie couldn't help but appreciate the land her grandparents lived on. It was beautiful. Green and lush as far as the eye could see, beautifully landscaped with colorful bushes and trees and a few strategically-placed, manmade ponds. The long, seven minute drive up the driveway bumped the family along over old cobblestone that her father now complained about, vowing to convince his father to look into having it paved over. "It's 1933," he muttered, his voice bumping along with the car. "This is ridiculous, it's time to get with the times. They're paving everything now."
His complaints were met with silence and her mother occupied herself by looking over her shoulder at her daughter and stating, "You better keep that dog of yours on his leash. He doesn't need to be allowed to have the run of the property, getting lost and scaring the cows or the horses--"
"Hogs," her father corrected. "He doesn't deal with milk anymore, now it's hogs. Those are the hot commodity now."
Abandoning her instructions to Bessie, her mother now curled up her lip in disgust and turned her attention back to the road in front of her.
Millie's eyes lit up, however, and she grinned excitedly. "I wonder if that means there will be fresh bacon for breakfast?"
While her father and Millie busied themselves with talk of hogs and bacon, Bessie's mind wandered to Zac. Was it horrible to wish that he was sitting in the seat beside her instead of Millie? What would her grandparents think of him? Did she care? Not really. She was convinced that he would charm the stockings right off of her grandmother, though. She smiled to herself at the thought. He was so charming. And beautiful. With his hair so lustrous and thick and his eyelashes lining the heavenly shade of his brown eyes. His skin was flawless and smooth and so perfectly sun-kissed and his muscles...oh, wow, the way his arms rippled through his sleeves and his chest so broad and wide. And the way he wrapped her up in that body of his, so warm and safe. His breath against her ear as he whispered that he loved her--
"Here we are!" Bessie's father announced, violently shaking her from her fantasy that she'd gotten herself carried away in. For a split second she was angry with her father for interrupting her but now she was grateful. Focusing on spending these four days with her family would more than help speed up the time until Zac came home. How long would it be by the time she came home? A week and a half? The thought alone made her giddy with excitement.
"We were already here several minutes ago, Daddy," Bessie giggled.
"Bess, make sure to hook that leash onto that dog, I'm warning you," her mother reminded her as the family made their way out of the car doors and took some much-needed stretches.
"He probably needs to go," Bessie said, struggling to keep a now excited Scout under control. "I'll go walk him for a few minutes and then we'll come inside.
Unfortunately, there was hardly any difference in the weather in Oklahoma City. Bessie longed to travel somewhere where the heat didn't stifle her on a daily basis. She almost wished she could trust Scout enough to unhook his leash and leave him to his own devices so that she could go inside in the cool air but she didn't want to spend her entire visit hunting him down, either. So, she huffed out a sigh, gratefully averted her eyes as he did his business, and finally led him up toward the house.
Her grandparents' home was something Bessie could never tire of, as much as she loved her simpler life back home in Tulsa. Her family didn't travel here near enough and each time they visited, Bessie never failed to smile and tirelessly fantasize about being a princess, searching for her prince from one of the balconies high above her. The house was made entirely of brown stone, brought in by train, straight from New York City, and sat three stories high with a grand porch that wrapped entirely around it. The front entrance took you up a small set of stone steps and onto covered porch with a cathedral style ceiling. A pair of wrought iron doors invited you inside the grand foyer with brightly-polished, white, marble tile and underneath an elaborate crystal chandelier that hung overhead.
Upon entering the home, you were faced directly with the grand staircase that led to the second floor that sat to the right rear of the foyer and next to a set of white, wooden doors that no doubt still led to the billiard room. During their visits, Bessie's father and grandfather spent a great deal of their time in that room if they weren't out walking the property or smoking their pipes and taking their drinks in the smoking room upstairs. Directly to the foyer's right was a grand, stone fireplace that Bessie fondly remembered as so beautifully and elaborately decorated with garland and ribbons and candles when they spent their Christmases there. Bessie grinned at the fireplace with elated joy. Oh, how she simply couldn't wait to bring Zac here for Christmas. It would be the most perfect holiday ever.
As Bessie stood there and fantasized, Scout, still on his leash, dragged her over to the parlor bench against the wall on the right and began nosing anxiously around her family's luggage. Sighing, she pulled gently on the leash to keep him away. "Yes, yes, that belongs to us. We are here. Get used to it."
"Bessie, dear, is that you? Oh, sweetheart, let me get a look at you!" Her grandmother's voice rang like a bell through the walls of the house and Bessie smiled at the sound before her face turned to horror in less than a second.
The two enormous beasts, easily twice the size of Scout, came barreling into the foyer, their paws slipping and sliding around on the floors, a mixture of fur and drool keeping them steadily unsteady. They paid Bessie absolutely no mind, coming straight for Scout and circling and sniffing at him in a worried frenzy. Scout's hair raised on end all the way from his spine to the tip of his tail and Bessie could hear the low murmur coming from his throat. She had to admit nervousness as her mind flashed back to the first day she ever saw Scout and Zac had been scared to death, implying that he was a horrible, monstrous beast. Now she prayed on everything that was holy that today he wouldn't be proven right.
"Ferdinand! Louie!" Her grandmother scolded them as she rounded the corner into the foyer. "The two of you come here right this instant!"
Miraculously, the two beasts, easily the size of a couple of miniature bears--or maybe full size bears, who knew?--tucked their large brown tails against their fluffy white bodies, and carried their sad, brown eyes back to their mother. Bessie stifled a laugh. For a couple of big, snarly monsters, the two dogs were nothing but a couple of overgrown pussycats. Why, Bessie likely could have scared them away with the snap of her fingers!
"You take that baby of yours off that godforsaken leash and come here and give your grandmamma a hug!"
Bessie loved her Grandma Elizabeth. That woman embodied everything Bessie wished to grow up as--loving, compassionate, quick-witted, and light on her feet. There wasn't a mean, pretentious bone in that woman's body and she never met a stranger or an enemy. Elizabeth Crowell Harlow was a small woman, standing a good four inches shorter than Bessie, with a delicate, petite frame, wearing her sixty-eight years with as much grace and beauty as a woman twenty years her junior. Her soft, silver hair was wrapped in a sophisticated twist in the back and she wore an ankle-length, floral day dress with the sleeves tapering off of her shoulders. The skin on her arms was so soft and light and Bessie only dreamed of being half as beautiful at her age.
She felt like a giant as she bent down to hug her grandmother, but it didn't make her feel any less like a little girl again as she smiled and breathed in the scent of lavender and powder that radiated off of her. "Oh, sweetheart," her grandmother said as she squeezed her shoulders. "I feel like it's been a lifetime since I've seen you."
Bessie pulled away and she giggled. "I feel like I've grown a lifetime since I saw you."
Her grandmother looked her over. "You certainly have. But you've grown into a beautiful young woman. I'm so proud of you." Then she turned her body and looked all around her. "So who's the strapping young lad you brought with you?"
Bessie giggled again. "That's Scout. He, um, belongs to my beau and I."
Her grandmother raised her eyebrows, suddenly giving Bessie her full attention. "Beau, you say? Well, where is he? When I do get to meet him?"
Bessie bit her lip and hesitated for a moment, silently cursing herself for her hesitation. How dare she, even for a moment, even remotely come close to being ashamed of Zac? She was proud of him. More than proud of him, she was...in front of her high-society grandmother.
Fidgeting with her hands, she said, "He's traveling for work right now."
Her grandmother arched an eyebrow of intrigue. "Traveling for work, hm? What sort of work? Business? Transport? Missionary for the church?"
Bessie swallowed and she looked her grandmother in the eye. "Um...with the carnival."
The old woman's face fell flat and Bessie's heart began to pound. "The carnival, huh?" Then she turned on her heel. "Clearly, we have quite a bit to catch up on. Come with me, dear."
**********
Minutes later, the two women were mixing sugar into the their tea in a kitchen as grand and ornate as the rest of the Victorian-inspired home was, preparing to take their tea into the grand parlor and find a quiet corner so they could talk amongst themselves. As Bessie's heels clicked cautiously over the painstakingly-waxed, hardwood floors, she found herself remarking her grandmother, "The last time we were here, I barely remember you ever setting foot in the kitchen."
The pair took a seat by a window near the back corner of the room as the late afternoon sun shone through the sheer, white curtains, assisting in the brightening of the room that the stark white walls had already started. The ceiling above them, the same shade of white, was intricately carved around the border, beautifully contrasting the rich, honey-colored floors that were underneath them. The furniture, including the blue, upholstered sofa that they sat on, was as intricate as the ceiling design, the room boasting a well put together mixture of antiques, handmade originals, and modern pieces. Several Persian rugs covered the floors beyond them, holding up marble-top tables and armchairs lined in velvet. Bessie's own home was decorated with similar furniture, but was a much more mild version of the one she sat in now. Still, though, it didn't keep her from sitting in her grandparents' house and fantasizing every hour of the day when she visited.
"Oh, Jessy is still with us," her grandmother said, raising her teacup to her lips. "Today is her day off. I told her that in the spirit of family with your visit, that she should go and spend time with hers. She'll be back tomorrow, though."
Jessy was a woman much younger than Bessie's grandmother, but much older than Bessie. She'd worked for her grandparents for years and Bessie ventured to guess that she must have been in her mid-thirties. She was a plain-looking woman with seemingly no shape, hardly any color to her face, and long, stringy brown hair. But she was one of the sweetest people Bessie had ever met and she made the best blackberry cobbler Bessie had ever put in her mouth. Oh, how she prayed that was on the weekend's menu.
Bessie remembered when she used to feel for Jessy. The poor woman did it all, it seemed, being at her grandparents' beckon call all the time. They also employed two housekeepers who did the cleaning and the laundry, and then there were all the men who kept up the farms across the property. Inside, though, it seemed quiet that day.
"I only have the help coming a few times a week now. The country's depression seems to have slowed the action down around here. We don't get near as many visitors as we used to because nobody can afford to travel anymore. So it's only your grandfather and I here and not enough going on to do much else besides the regular dusting. We keep Jessy full time, though." Her grandmother sipped her tea and then huffed a breath. "Well. Enough about our hired help, let's hear more about this beau of yours."
Bessie blinked her eyes with surprise at her grandmother's sudden enthusiasm. "You...you want to know about Zac?"
"His name is Zac? Short for Zachary, I presume."
"Yes."
"And? Does he have a last name?"
"Hanson," Bessie stammered.
"Zachary Hanson," her grandmother repeated in thought. Then her shoulders seemed to perk up. "It sounds like a good, strong name."
Bessie couldn't stop the reply that tumbled out of her mouth. "Well, he's a good, strong man."
The girl and her grandmother fell into a bewildered silence for a moment before the two of them burst into a fit of giggles.
"Is he, now?" Her grandmother said as they recovered from their laughter. "Tell me, dear, what on earth possessed you to take such an interest in a man who travels with the carnival?"
Bessie was surprised at the shallow thought that was the first thing to enter her mind at this question, but it was too late to go back on it now. Her face lit up as she reached into the pocket of her dress. "I have a photograph," she offered. "Would you like to see?"
"Very much so," her grandmother replied, lifting the small bifocals that hung on a chain around her neck.
Bessie produced the photograph of the two of them that Zac had sent her and her grandmother examined it carefully for a moment. "Is he always that much of a sourpuss?"
Bessie giggled and shook her head. "No. He's very pleasant. He just didn't want his photograph taken that day."
"He looks, uh...why, he looks a bit older than you..."
Bessie blushed. "He's twenty-six."
Her grandmother's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling for a minute before her face calmed and she handed the photo back to her granddaughter. "I suppose I can't judge. Your grandfather is nearly ten years older than me..."
Now it was Bessie's eyebrows that hit the ceiling. "Is he really? He doesn't even look it!"
"Your grandfather comes from very good genes," she smirked slyly. "It's one of the reasons I married him. And speaking of good genes, you got yourself an awfully handsome one, there."
"He is," Bessie agreed dreamily.
"I'm surprised your father hasn't kicked the bucket over it. You know, since he's not a doctor or a law man or any of that mumbo jumbo."
Bessie's grandmother was full of surprises that day. Bessie had come into this already convinced that her grandmother would hate Zac on the spot for not being one of the "mumbo jumbos" she'd just spoken of. The fact that she called her son's preferences "mumbo jumbo" told Bessie everything she needed to know. Her grandmother approved and now Bessie knew exactly where her outlook on life had come from.
And on the subject of good genes, they also apparently skipped generations.
"So what's going on with you and this beau of yours? Future plans? How long have you been seeing him?"
"Um, a little over a month now," she replied shyly. "Not very long at all. But I feel like I've known him a lifetime and I'm so deeply in love with him. We intend to be married after I've finished school." Then Bessie paused to shake her head. "But, please, Daddy doesn't know yet."
Her grandmother seemed unconcerned with the way her son felt about anything. "You love him? Your first boyfriend, your first love? You want to marry him?"
"Yes."
"After you've finished school. That's a long time."
"It's enough time for him to prepare a home for us in Tulsa."
"On carnival money," her grandmother clarified.
"It's enough time to prepare," Bessie repeated.
"Hm," she nodded. Then she lifted her teacup again. "Your grandfather and I were married two weeks after we met."
Bessie nearly choked. "Two weeks?"
"It was the 1880's," she said. "Back then, nobody pussyfooted around, courting and dating and such. When you knew, you knew. It was love at first sight, John and I. Neither one of us had two pennies to rub together, we both grew up poor, living off the prairie lands. We met in church. He was new in town. I was seventeen. He convinced me to neck with him behind the church the first Sunday we met and let me tell you, sweetheart, I knew right then I'd never neck with another man for as long as I lived. We disappeared from any church activities for the rest of the day. The good lord above knew that I'd burn up like the blazes if I set foot back in that place after what your grandfather and I had just done."
Bessie couldn't choose which expression her face wanted to make. She blushed, she gaped, she giggled. Her grandmother was a naughty seventeen-year-old. It was something she would have never pictured.
Then her grandmother smiled and shook her head. "It's been the best fifty-one years a woman could ask for. Like I said, we started with nothing. We just knew we were in love and we wanted to be married. We scraped and we scrounged and we struggled--but your grandfather is a very smart, very determined man. We started a small garden on a tiny patch of the yard of our very meager house. We started selling the crops. Demand grew. Our land grew bigger. He was able to put himself through law school, but we never stopped farming. Our scraping and scrounging and never giving up got us here. And we did every single bit of it together. It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor, Bessie. What matters is that you get through life together. As long as you take care of each other and support each other and work together, you can do anything. And while we're on the subject, don't let that carnival business fool you, young lady. It might not appear as such, but there is serious money to be made in that business. The truth is, people are queer folk. And they'll put up good money to feed their curiosities. Why, who do you think funds the carnival every year? Why would people want to work the carnivals? It's certainly not because they like sleeping on the ground in tents and contorting their bodies in unnatural ways. It's because they're raking in that dough. Say, what does your beau do in the carnival, anyway?"
"He's a magician. He has an act with his brothers. They do all sorts of tricks--card tricks, levitations, disappearing acts..." Bessie paused and smiled. "We met at the carnival during one of their performances. He turned a wand into flowers and then he winked at me. And I think my knees turned to jelly." Then her expression turned serious and her face fell. "I've been so miserable since he's been gone. It's been nearly three weeks now. He's supposed to come home soon, but not soon enough."
"I don't even want to imagine the level of necking that will go on once he comes home," her grandmother remarked.
Once again, Bessie blushed and she giggled. She needed this more than she thought she did. She needed this visit, she needed this conversation, she needed this quality time with her grandmother. She needed someone to tell her that everything she was feeling was okay. She needed her grandmother's approval of her relationship, she needed a sort of validation that the relationship was strong enough to make Zac want to hurry home to her. Not that she ever had any real doubts about it. Just quiet fears that would creep up every once in awhile, enough to make her uncomfortable.
From there, the conversation turned into plans for Christmas and the two women had lost track of the time until Bessie's mother walked into the room and informed Bessie, "It would probably be a good idea if you took your dog outside again. He had an accident in the house just now."
Sighing, Bessie sat down her empty teacup and rose from the sofa. Scout was determined to make this a long, stressful weekend.
_______________________________________
The University of Oklahoma in Norman, Oklahoma, was proudly regarded as the tenth largest state institution in the nation. It was a sprawling one hundred and sixty seven acres of academics as far as the eye could see and Judge Harlow smiled proudly at the admissions building as he stepped out of the car, along with his wife and his daughter, the future graduate.
This day was bittersweet and the judge's mind had been going a mile a minute during the forty minute drive to Norman, located south of Oklahoma City, and home of The University of Oklahoma's main campus. It seemed like just yesterday, he was sending his tiny daughter off to her first day of kindergarten. Now they were preparing to tour what would be her home for the next four years and in just a little over a month, he would be sending her on her way. The idea tugged hard on his heartstrings, but he kept it to himself and kept the car ride jovial and light and making sure to give Bessie all the reasons why she would enjoy her college experience and made sure to recount his own experiences, one right after the other.
Now his wife hooked her elbow around his arm and he led his small family up the long sidewalk and up to the large, brick building with the grand façade. "Did you know this establishment is only forty-three years old?" The judge mused out loud. "It's not near as old and established as, say, Yale, but it's a highly accredited institution in its own right. And from what I understand, Millie and Judith absolutely love it here!"
Within minutes, after walking into the large building with the cathedral ceilings and waxed floors, and giving the receptionist their name, she whisked away and they were quickly met by a woman in a tan-colored matching skirt and blazer suit. "Martha Stiltner, Dean of Admissions," she said, extending her arm to shake hands with the family. "So wonderful to finally be meeting you, Judge Harlow."
Her smile was warm and genuine under her short, dark curls, and as soon as the judge introduced his wife and his daughter, the quartet were quickly on their way.
Dean Stiltner seemed to speak a mile a minute as they walked the huge campus, building to building. She spoke proudly of the university's history, of the qualified faculty, and the amenities offered by the dormitories. "We have a brand new library that was just built four years ago and named after the school's president. He's done so much for the school in the short time he's been with us. He's really turned things around here. Come and we'll explore one of the top research libraries in the country. I promise you've never seen anything like it!"
The more Dean Stiltner talked, the more excited Judge Harlow became. He tried to ignore the fact that Bessie had very little to contribute and asked almost no questions at all. He and his wife, however, were brimming with them and wasted no time asking each and every one.
By the time the nearly three-hour tour was complete, the small family was famished and they spread out the picnic lunch they'd brought along out on the greens in front of the admissions building. Bessie wasn't very much for words and Jim and Catherine couldn't seem to stop going on about all the positive things they'd seen and heard about the campus. "I knew we made a right decision to send you here," Jim boasted. "Why, you and Millie and Judith will be like the Three Musketeers here, just like you are back home."
"For a year," Bessie muttered. "Until they graduate."
"Well, see there," her mother smiled. "You're already in close with the senior class. Socializing will be absolutely no problem for you."
"Yes," Bessie agreed unenthusiastically. "I'll also be familiar with Billy Connors and Lawrence Baker..."
"I wonder what this school's policy is on criminal records," Jim mused out loud, mostly to himself. "I mean I'm sure Stan will slide Billy in without a problem, but I don't know so much about the Baker boy..."
Finally, after lunch was over, they were each sitting in a chair in Dean Stiltner's office, Bessie sandwiched between her parents.
"So," Dean Stiltner smiled. "What did you think of the campus?"
Jim and Catherine wasted no time singing its praises while she directed her attention at Bessie. "Miss Harlow?"
"It's nice," Bessie replied quietly.
"Nice," Jim smiled, beginning to sense his daughter's potential displeasure and desperately trying to deflect it. "Why, she's so awed by it, she's practically speechless!"
"Well," the dean smiled warmly. "It is quite a lot to take in for someone's first trip to college. Most of the freshmen are shy, it takes them a little bit to warm up to it." Then she slipped on her bifocals and began to leaf through a small stack of papers on the desk in front of her. "So, Miss Harlow...I see here that your goal is to become an art teacher. So you'll be seeking an art education degree...or some semblance of an equivalent..."
"Yes, ma'am," Bessie replied.
"Hm," the dean sounded, furrowing her brow. Then she took off her bifocals and rested her elbows on the desk. "We have wonderful arts and education programs here. In fact, we have both the College of Education and the College of Fine Arts right here on campus in two different buildings which will serve all your needs and we're more than honored by your interest. However, I'm forced to admit that due to the current nature of our country's economy, our enrollment rate--as well as our dropout rate--has seen some drastic changes over the past few years. While we strive to offer the very best of all of our areas of academics, I must admit that the fine arts department is one that is frighteningly close to being unavailable for this coming school year based on the level of interest. Unfortunately, there just isn't a high demand for arts degrees or arts educators right now."
Bessie's face fell and the judge's heart dropped out of his chest on his daughter's behalf. "But," she stammered. "But art is what I came here for. It's what I do."
"She said the education program was wonderful," the judge offered softly. "You could teach so much more than art--"
"But I don't want to teach anything other than art," Bessie snapped back in a whisper. "I think if money is going to exchange hands and tuition is going to be paid, I should be allowed to do what I want."
The judge had never seen this side of Bessie before--she was bordering on coming across as a spoiled brat and she didn't want the dean to get that impression of his daughter. The truth was, though, the girl made a very valid point. And he simply couldn't ignore it.
"Excuse my daughter's behavior," the judge said to the dean. "It's been a very stressful past few weeks for her and, like you said, the first time at college is quite an undertaking. I would like to ask, though, what are the odds of finding a place in any type of arts program for her? She's very talented..."
"Well, as I said, it's not definite that the department won't be offered this year," the dean said. "I just wanted to make you aware that it could be a possibility. Now, there is an option as far as an arts school goes--it isn't affiliated with the University of Oklahoma, but it is a great school--called The Oklahoma College for Women in Chickasha. It is specifically a liberal arts school and does offer degrees in art, as well as many other liberal arts and sciences as well. Now, Chickasha is about an hour south of here, but--"
"No," Bessie spat, whipping her head around to her father. "No. I'm not going to Chickasha. Do you realize how far away we are from Tulsa already?"
The judge thought his daughter might hyperventilate on the spot and he wished he had an immediate remedy for her.
"See, Bessie has a cousin and a best friend who are going to be seniors here this coming year," Catherine smile, obviously trying to put the focus back on the campus they sat on in Norman. "She'll be more comfortable here, with people she knows, especially for her first year in college."
"Why, that's a wonderful way to start your college career," Dean Stiltner smiled warmly. "Who are your cousin and your friend, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Millie Jennings and Judith Carter," Bessie answered.
The dean met her reply with a blank expression. "Can't say I'm familiar with those names. Then again, you can't be on a first name basis with every single student on a campus this size. What are they studying?"
"Nursing."
At this, the dean pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in thought, shaking her head slowly. "Then it's impossible that they go here, I'm afraid."
"But they do go here," Bessie shot back. "Both of them do, they've been going here for the past three years."
"Not if they're studying nursing. Now the University of Oklahoma does have a branch in Oklahoma City that is dedicated strictly to healthcare, the University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center. We don't offer any type of medical degree on this campus. All medical students go to Oklahoma City."
Bessie let out a huff and sat back in her chair, uncharacteristic of her and the judge was growing increasingly agitated by her behavior. "Dean Stiltner, we greatly appreciate you taking the time out of your day to meet with us and show us around. It appears that we have a little decision-making to do as far as her major goes, but I assure you we will be in touch. And soon. After all, the start of the school year is just around the corner."
"That it is," she agreed as the four of them stood up together and shook hands. "Now, remember, you can start your year without a major in mind. You can get some of your core classes in and make your decision a little bit later, if you like. Either way, we're more than happy to welcome you to our school, Miss Harlow. Oh! And while I'm thinking about it, you are more than welcome to come and spend the night on campus tonight if you'd like, just to get a feel of what college life would be like, if it might help any of the decisions you're having to make."
"Why, that sounds like a wonderful idea!" Catherine marveled. "Bessie, dear, doesn't that sound like a wonderful idea?"
"Not without Millie," Bessie whispered.
"Oh, of course your cousin may come along!" The dean said. "She's already a student at the university anyway and, besides, I certainly wouldn't ask you to spend the night in this new, big place all alone!"
The judge was pleased with the fact that Bessie was much more polite and open to the idea of spending the night on campus. As they were leaving, his first instinct was to give her a piece of his mind the moment they closed the car doors, but he had to stop himself. For someone like his daughter, who had such a lust for life and a genuine love and joy for everything, her odd silence and even more odd behavior that day caused him to try to put himself in her shoes and remember his first time at college. The dean was right, it was an awful lot to take in. She was likely mulling and thinking and overall nervous. It would explain a lot and he couldn't blame her for it, either. He was confident, though, that this sleepover on campus would help put her in the right spirit. A sleepover with her cousin, who loved college. If anyone could heal his daughter's nerves, it was Millie. For that, the judge's mind remained at ease.
___________________________________________
"You don't need some stuffy dean or resident hostess telling you anything about what it's like to live in the dorms," Millie said as the pair unpacked their suitcases on twin beds that sat on opposite walls in the small room. "It's a good thing you have me here to clue you in on what it's really like."
Hester Hall very much resembled much of the rest of the campus Bessie had seen, namely the admissions building and the new Bizzell Library, in a style that Dean Stiltner like to refer to as "Cherokee Gothic." The gothic style, Bessie could definitely gather, but she supposed the "Cherokee" part was added in because of the area's rich Native American history. It didn't really matter to Bessie, anyway. Architecture wasn't exactly her forte.
The dormitory was one of two women's dormitories, the other one, Robertson Hall, was connected to Hester by a kitchen, dining room, and lounge. As Bessie thought about how she might sit on the edge of one of the constructed ponds, surrounded by shrubs and flowers as she wrote to Zac, Millie was listlessly going over dormitory rules with a wave of her hand, as if they didn't mean a thing to her. "I'd imagine most dormitories are about the same," she said. "No gentleman in the ladies' rooms, both feet on the floor at all dances and at the union, strict ten o'clock curfew or else you'll get expelled...just the usual, you know."
Bessie had finished her unpacking and sat herself gently on the edge of her bed, the two beds separated by two small desks that sat side-by-side in front of the window. At the end of each bed stood wooden wardrobes, one for each student, and that was the extent of the provided furniture. According to Millie's earlier ramblings, bathrooms were shared between rooms and Bessie was thankful that they didn't have neighbors during this little excursion.
As she sat, she couldn't decide which thought occupied her mind more--what were the plans for dinner and how she wished they had a radio in the room. She had been about to vocalize one of these thoughts when Millie sat on the edge of her bed across from her, her eyes lighting up. "So. Speaking of the union, I already caught wind of a party going on tonight at the Alpha Tau Omega house. It would be your first college party, Bessie! Isn't that exciting?"
And now a new set of queries took over her mind all at once. "The what-what-what house?" Bessie asked incredulously. "What on earth is that? And there are others here besides us? It's summer!"
"The football players usually come early to start practicing," Millie informed her, matter-of-factly. "And most of the team are Alpha Tau Omegas."
"What's a...an Alpha Too...?"
"Alpha Tau Omega. It's a fraternity." Then she let out a breath. "Sororities and fraternities are same-sex groups who all live in the same house on campus. They're all different groups, and the biggest ones usually house the more popular students. That's the one we're going to tonight."
Bessie's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "You're saying we're going to be the only two females at this party?!"
Millie laughed, tossing her raven curls off of her shoulder. "No, silly! The cheerleader girls will be there, too. One of them slipped me this piece of paper with the information on it while Dean Stiltner was walking us down the hallway just a little bit ago. Oh, I'm so excited! These parties are always the best!"
"Well...well, yes, but-but didn't you just say that being out after curfew could get you expelled?"
"How can we have a curfew? School isn't even in session right now! We're just testing the waters for you!" Then she lowered her voice and leaned over just a little. "Even still, though, we're going to sneak back in here like school really is in session. You'll need to practice, after all." Then she sat back up and giggled again. "This will be so perfect. You'll already be in with the popular crowd before you even start here!"
At this, an entirely new reality struck Bessie dumb. "Oh my heavens," she muttered. "Are Billy and Lawrence going to be there?"
"Highly unlikely," Millie replied, shaking her head. "After all, Billy can't play ball, and Lawrence...well, it would probably be in his best interest to high tail it here, but I'm sure he isn't here this weekend. Shame for him, though. He'll sure miss a good time."
**********
Bessie and Millie walked up to Rhyne Hall Fraternity House, home of the Alpha Tau Omegas, to the sounds of a rousing rendition of "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow" that could be heard in questionable harmony from outside the door. It took several loud knocks from Millie before the door was answered by a rather large boy in tan trousers and a striped, short-sleeved shirt. From underneath his strawberry blonde comb-over, Bessie thought her neck might get a cramp upon looking at him.
He smiled, arching an eyebrow as he openly eyed both women from top to bottom. Millie had insisted on wearing her best cloche hat and gloves while Bessie opted for neither. She simply pinned her hair back off her shoulders, threw on a day dress and leisure jacket, and went on her way.
The tall boy must have seen what he liked because he let out a low whistle before he remarked with a smile, "Well, hello, ladies. Here for the party?"
"Of course," Millie flirted with a smile. "Why else would we be here?"
"By all means," he said, stepping out of the way to let them in the door. "Welcome to Alpha Tau Omega, best fraternity on campus."
"Indeed," Millie grinned as she led Bessie through the door.
Stepping into the fraternity house, there seemed to be a sea of boys as far as the eye could see. There were button-down shirts, bowties and neckties, sweaters with letters on them, and comb-overs for miles. Bessie sighed on the inside. She missed her muscle-bound, five o'clock shadow-wearing, long-haired, free spirit of a man. What was he doing right now? Most importantly, what would he do if he knew she was at this party?
She had to backtrack on the muscle. There was an abundance of muscle and testosterone in the room. After all, Millie had said that almost the entire fraternity was on one sports team or another. Mostly football. As she surveyed the room, observing the boys milling around, she watched warily as they talked in small groups, most of them with drinks in their hands, or played pool on a billiard table or ping pong in another corner. Bessie found herself wondering who "the jolly good fellow" was when her eyes landed on the food tables--and the cake.
She nearly salivated on sight.
"Millie," Bessie hissed. "They have cake!"
Millie turned around and scowled at her cousin, tucking her clutch tighter under her arm. "I can't believe you're thinking about cake when you have all of...this...standing around." She motioned to the room full of boys and Bessie gaped at her in shock.
"Millie! You have a boyfriend!"
Suddenly, Millie's enthusiastic expression fell flat. "Come on, Bess. He's queer. He knows it, I know it, everybody knows it."
"But, still, that doesn't--that doesn't mean you can cheat on him! He still has feelings!"
"Well, heavens, Bessie, nobody said anything about cheating on him. I'm simply socializing and enjoying the view. There's no harm in that!"
Bessie had no argument for that. She knew Millie cared for Joey and his feelings. She supposed it was time to give Millie a little more credit than she had been. After all, she was an adult and she could make her own decisions--just like Bessie could.
And Bessie decided that she wanted cake.
To her delight, as she veered off to the left of the large living room, leading into a dining area where the food was being stored, she spotted a few girls. Thank heavens she and Millie weren't the only two there! As she approached the table, however, the three girls that stood in a group, conversing with each other, paused their conversation long enough to give her a disdainful once-over and then went about their conversation. Normally, this would have hurt Bessie's feelings. It would have rendered her severely self-conscious and accepting a blow to her self-esteem. But not tonight. Little did those girls know, Bessie didn't exactly want to be there, anyway. The joke was on them.
But it was Bessie who felt like the joke was being played on, because there was no knife to cut the cake with and no utensils to eat it with. How did dining utensils simply vanish? The cake was half-eaten!
The sudden realization of the disappearance of the cake knife caused Bessie to grow momentarily, ridiculously nervous and it cause her to look over each of her shoulders as calmly as she could muster. As she turned her shoulders to the right to see behind her, she was startled to come face-to-face with what was easily the most handsome boy in the entire fraternity. She immediately felt ashamed for her silent admission.
"You look lost," he smiled. His smile was warm and comforting, subsequently disturbing Bessie.
"Um," she stammered, feeling the blood rising to her cheeks. "Um, I'm...there's no cake knife," she blurted.
'There's no cake knife.' Superb social skills, Bessie. Absolutely superb.
"Well, look there," he replied, his grin widening with an unmistakable twinkle in his devastatingly blue eyes. He raised the knife up and twirled around in his hand. "It fell in the floor and it needed to be washed. I was just bringing it back."
Her expression must have matched what flashed through her mind, much to her embarrassment, because then his entire expression turned into one of realization and remorse. "That looked bad, didn't it?" He admitted.
Bessie could only nod.
Carefully, he stepped past her, practically on his tip toes, and he reached for a plate. "I could cut you a slice, if you like," he offered.
Bessie wasn't even sure she had an appetite anymore. But, then, who was she kidding? It was cake. And she couldn't say no. Especially given the fact that it was chocolate.
And, so, she nodded again.
The boy was tall. Taller than the one who had answered the door. This boy stood at least six and a half feet with bigger shoulders than she had ever seen. His dark brown comb-over was simply that--combed over. There was no grease or any other kind of product to hold it down like most of the other boys' were. His lustrous, shiny hair was all natural, even down to the way it lay in its part. The tip of it nearly brushed his eyebrow and Bessie noticed that he had to shake it out of his face every now and then and sometimes he would just run a hand through it and it would just fall beautifully into place. His hair sure did give Taylor's a run for its money, that was for sure.
With his dark hair and his blue eyes and his square jaw and the dimple that dared try to make its presence known when he smiled, Bessie grew increasingly uncomfortable at how much she noticed him. Was this what noticing boys was all about? Were you supposed to blush every time you saw an attractive boy even when you had a beau?
At the thought of Zac, Bessie felt horrible. She felt like merely looking at this boy was a sin that could be detrimental to their relationship. After all, Zac was the most attractive man in possibly the entire world--and even next to this football player, he still was. But what did that say about her, being attracted to another man? It didn't seem natural. It didn't seem right. She felt like a horrible person.
The boy interrupted her thoughts by handing her a plate of pure chocolate heaven that intoxicated the air around her as her nostrils inhaled the sweet aroma. And then, to her horror, he cut himself a slice and didn't seem to be in a hurry to be anywhere as he turned around and he smiled at her once more. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you new?"
Bessie swallowed, painfully aware that she still didn't have a fork to keep her occupied. "I start in the fall."
"Getting to experience it early, then, huh?"
"I suppose so," she replied shyly.
"That's good," he nodded. "That's real good. Say, what's your name, doll?"
"Bessie. Um, Bessie Harlow."
He smiled again. He always seemed to smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Bessie. I'm Robert Clayton. Quarterback. Welcome to The University of Tulsa."
"Um, thank you," she smiled. Then she glanced at the table again uncomfortably.
Robert was extremely observant, it seemed. Taking two, long strides sideways, he plucked two forks off of the other end of the table and offered one to Bessie. Then he winked at her. That sobered her up in a matter of seconds because nobody could wink at her and have the same affect on her the way Zac did. Not anybody. And that helped her relax and feel better, remembering that her one and only true love was Zac and that she would never long for anyone else for as long as she lived.
"Say, Bessie. Why don't you and I take our desserts outside on the porch and get away from all this noise, shall we? It sure feels nice out there tonight."
With her new found confidence and trust in herself, she lifted her chin and she smiled. "Well, all right. It does feel a bit stuffy in here, anyway. Some fresh air would be nice."
Bessie followed Robert through the kitchen, out the back door, and onto a wooden porch with a wraparound railing. There wasn't much left of the sun in the dusk sky and it was barely any cooler than it had been earlier in the day, but Bessie enjoyed the quiet of the outdoors anyway. The porch overlooked a small, well-kept yard, a few trees, and a neighboring house close by. She was only mildly interested in who might occupy the house, but she wasn't concerned enough to ask. The bite of chocolate cake she had forked into her mouth was practically melting on her tongue and she was momentarily in heaven.
She couldn't resist vocalizing her confectionary pleasure. "This is so delicious," she commented, her mouth still full of cake.
Robert's smile was bright with amusement, the twinkle returning to his eye. Bessie chose to ignore how nice his smile was. "It's delightful, isn't it?"
"Very," she agreed, shoving another forkful in.
And then he chuckled, his laugh deep, warm, and genuine, and she noticed that he'd barely touched his own cake. "I take it you really love cake."
"It's my favorite food," she nodded with a swallow. "Well, after popcorn, that is."
"I could eat my weight in popcorn," Robert agreed. "And look at me. That's a lot of weight."
"It isn't bad weight, though," Bessie replied. "You're extremely muscular and I'm sure most of your weight comes from your impressive height."
Bessie stopped herself and her eyes widened in realization of her blunt honesty and uncharacteristic lack of verbal inhibitions. Had she just complimented a boy? And why did she speak so freely to him? Should she even be out here with him? Alone, even? Was she doing anything wrong? Was she doing anything right? What were the rules when it came to male and female interaction when one was in love with someone else? Was Zac eating cake with other girls and complimenting them? He certainly better not be.
Who was Bessie kidding? Zac was in the big city now. He probably spoke to girls--multiple girls--every single day and never thought twice about it. Contrary to popular belief, Bessie believed that it was okay to have friends, no matter if they were the same sex or not. Society believed that platonic friendship between boys and girls, men and women, was something that either couldn't or shouldn't exist. But Bessie was friends with Joey, wasn't she? And Zac and his brothers were friends with Millie and Judith. That was it. Bessie was doing nothing wrong. And if Zac didn't like it by the time he came home, she would give him a piece of her mind--after she smothered him in hugs and drowned him in kisses.
"Well, football will do that to you, I suppose," Robert nodded, finally taking a bite of his cake. When he swallowed, he continued. "So, Bessie. You're coming here in the fall, you say. What's your major of study?"
"I want to be an art teacher," she announced proudly. Then she cleared her throat and rethought her answer. "Art education, I mean." She supposed that if she was going to start coming to college and interacting with actual college students, she should start thinking better of her vocabulary.
"Art education, huh?" Robert nodded, taking in her words with thought. "That's interesting. Most girls come here to teach arithmetic or study nursing at the medical school. You're interested in art. That's different. Are you an artist, yourself?"
"I am," she nodded. "I mostly sketch and paint, but I'd love to get my hands dirty and sculpt sometime!"
"Wow," he chuckled. "Another thing I thought I'd never hear from a girl. You're certainly something interesting, Bessie, you know that?"
"Well," she breathed modestly. "I'm not that interesting..."
"Yeah? You just shoveled that entire cake in your mouth like your life depended on it, you like to draw, and you have no qualms about dirty hands, apparently. I'd say that's pretty interesting."
"I'm sure nurses get their hands plenty dirty," she pointed out. "What with dealing with blood and bodily fluids--"
"You have nice hands," he said suddenly, placing his plate gently on the wooden railing beside him. "Has anyone ever told you that before?"
Being the honest person that she was, Bessie stopped to rack her brain for an answer. Had anyone ever told her that before? Had Zac ever told her that? Her heart sank when she realized that she didn't remember ever hearing him say it. Well, it was such an odd and random compliment, anyway...
"Thank you," she smiled. "I never really thought about it before."
"Well, you should. I believe hands are the most fascinating part of the body. They are solely responsible for keeping the human race alive. You couldn't live without your hands." Then he cocked his head in thought. "Well, actually, you could...it would be difficult, though..." Then he shook his head and hung it with a sheepish smile. "Who am I kidding, I'm not a biological scientist. I tried, though, right? I mean, who compliments hands, right? I should compliment the shade of the hazel your eyes are or how soft your hair is..." He took a step toward her. "Or the perfection of your lips..."
Bessie's eyes widened in horror and she quickly took a step back, unable to go any further, having been stopped by the corner of the railing. "So, do you major in football?" She spat out.
Robert stopped in his tracks, a bewildered expression flashing across his face. It took a moment for the question to register with him before he relaxed his enormous shoulders and threw his head back in laughter. Bessie couldn't decide if she was humiliated or relieved, but one thing was for sure--he wasn't trying to kiss her anymore and that was all that mattered.
He leaned his arm on the railing and crossed his ankle over the other, relaxing in a smile and shaking his head. "Um, no. No, you don't 'major' in football." Then he cleared his throat and looked around him cautiously. "Football isn't a major," he said, his voice hushed. "But it is a scholarship. The truth is, I'm a chemistry major. The fellas don't know it, so I don't exactly want it getting around. But I only play football to pay my way toward becoming a chemist. Science is my real passion. Not football. And if I knew I could get into college without football, I would have done it."
Bessie was stunned. Impressed, even. She had always grown up believing that most, if not all, athletes did nothing but play ball. Very few of them ever acted interested in academics at all and they never ceased to poke fun of those that did value their educations. She could understand why Robert didn't want his fellow teammates to know anything about his passion for science. College must not have been terribly different from high school, she determined.
"Well, I, um...I never would have guessed," she admitted.
"I know," he nodded solemnly. "It's not that I'm ashamed of it or anything. I'd just prefer to keep my college life as incident-free as possible, you know?"
"Well--well, what do the other boys major in?"
"We don't really discuss it much. I know one of them, at least, is a law major. I'm not sure if he's coming back this year or not, though. Word getting around is that he had an injury back home that'll prevent him from playing this year. Shame, though. He's one of our best."
Bessie swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "Is that so...? How...unfortunate. Did, um, does word get around fast around here?"
"It can," Robert shrugged. "Depends on what it is and who knows it. We fraternity brothers, though, we pretty much know all their is to know about each other."
"You just said you didn't discuss your schooling."
He smirked. "Unspoken rules, my dear."
Bessie nodded, praying for a subject change. The last person she wanted to discuss tonight was Billy Connors and she was afraid to know what more the campus could possibly know about his situation. What if they knew about Zac? What if they were ready to pound him like Billy and Lawrence Baker seemed to be? Was she literally standing in the lion's den, eating delicious cake and enjoying conversation with the enemy? Having lunch with Billy and conversing with him was bad enough. These athletes were nothing but trouble. She felt like every time she found herself near one, she was betraying Zac more and more.
Her expression must have reflected her thoughts because Robert cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. "What's the matter, doll face? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"No," she said, shaking her head slowly.
"Say, where are you from, anyway? Are you from Tulsa like Millie Jennings? I saw you walk in with her."
"She's my cousin," she whispered.
"Ah," Robert concluded with his signature, lady-killer grin. "Beauty must run rampant in your family, then. I gotta admit, though...you don't seem a thing like Millie. Quite the opposite, actually."
"We, um, we have our differences," she admitted.
"Clearly." Then his smile widened. "Hey, then you must know my chum, Billy Connors! He's the law student with the injury I was referring to."
"I gathered..."
Suddenly, a look of concert took over his face. "Is that--is that a sore subject for you? Is he an ex boyfriend of yours or something?"
Bessie shook her head rigorously, desperate to make sure that Robert did not mistake the message that she was not and never would be Billy Connors's ex anything. Instead, she blurted, "I have a beau."
He looked as if he'd taken a blow to the chest all of a sudden, his eyes darting around the porch beneath them in a mixture of shame and heartbreak. "Oh. Oh, I...why, I never asked, did I? My apologies."
Holding her chin up high, she cleared her throat and went for it, choosing to just lay it right out on the table for him. If it created a problem all the way from Oklahoma City--or Norman or wherever they were--then Bessie would just have to suck it up and be a nurse with Millie and Judith. After all, there could never be too many nurses.
"I have a beau and I love him. Deeply. And we're going to get married someday. But he wants me to go to school first because he wants what's best for me and he values and respects my passion for art. Billy Connors, however, doesn't respect anyone or anything but himself--and because of that, my beau is the reason that Billy won't be playing ball with you this year. I'd offer my sincerest apologies on my beau's behalf, except that I don't apologize for it because Billy is a disrespectful oaf who made the mistake of calling me a dumb broad when I wouldn't allow him to drive me home while intoxicated. Simply put, he got what was coming to him. Ever since, he has done nothing but make trouble for my beau and my beau never did anything to hurt anyone--except break a few of Billy's ribs in my honor. If you want to throw me out of this party, I understand. And if I've just committed what my dear cousin would call social suicide, then so be it. But I love my beau. And I will stand by him one hundred percent against anybody, no matter how big they are. And make no mistake--my beau is not a small man. He is twice the size of Billy Connors and Billy didn't know who he was dealing with when he decided to pick on me. But truth be told, I didn't come here to speak ill of anyone. I only believe in the hard facts."
Now it was Robert's turn to look stunned. His jaw hung open, his eyes were saucers, and his body leaned slightly forward as he absorbed everything she'd just said. She blinked at him in nervous anticipation, unsure of what kind of reaction she would get out of him. He was a large boy, after all. He could have picked her up and thrown her clear into the neighbor's yard if he wanted to. He could be fuming mad, destroying everything in his path in a rampage or he could curse her and cuss her and cut her down with words no person should ever hear in their lives. He could threaten Zac, he could get word back to Billy and Lawrence in Tulsa and Zac might never live through his homecoming. Bessie didn't know. And now she was beginning to regret ever opening her big mouth.
She was surprised, however, when his face softened a little and he rubbed his chin in thought. "Your beau...is quite literally...the luckiest man alive."
"He-he is?" She stammered.
"Look, whatever you have going on with back home with Billy is between you. All of you. I only know Billy on campus and life is different here. But for your man to have a girl like you--a beautiful girl who is intelligent and unique, a caring girl who will stick up for him and fight for him and support him no matter what--with as much fire and passion as you have--why, that makes him the envy of every red-blooded male in the world. Myself, included. Young women like you don't just appear every day, you know."
The truth was, Bessie didn't know. She didn't know anything. She only knew Zac. She only knew the way he made her feel. She only knew his touch, his kiss, his embrace, and their tree. She only knew Shakespeare and astronomy and card tricks and trick flowers. She knew wildflowers. She knew love, and only Zac's love, and there was nothing else she ever needed to know.
"I'm not going to say anything to Billy or anybody," Robert assured her quietly. "Okay? Your secret's safe with me. Because, frankly, it's none of my business or anybody else's. But I want you to know that when you come to school, you have a friend in me. You can talk to me, say hi if we see each other between classes, maybe eat together in the cafeteria sometimes, anything. And I'll respect your boundaries, don't you worry. There's no...none of that 'social suicide' here. Not from these lips, anyway."
Bessie's knees turned to jelly with relief and she thanked him for his kindness and understanding. The last thing she needed was for her college life to start out complicated and awkward. It was also nice to know that she would know someone when she came to school, someone who shared her love of cake and popcorn and, despite being an athlete, could carry on an intelligent conversation. Knowing she already had a friend was a comfort.
But why did he have to be a boy? And why did Zac have to be so far away? The pain in her heart was returning with a vengeance just in time for Millie to stumble through the back door, juggling three cups of beer and passing them out to Robert and Bessie.
Ah, good ol' Millie. Bessie accepted the cup and chugged it until it was half empty to an audience of two pairs of wide eyes. Bessie didn't care. She was glad for the distraction and she was determined to make this college visit fun.
By cup number three, however, Bessie couldn't stop giggling and belching as Millie dragged her hurriedly across campus.
TO MY LOVE
I JUST WANTED TO TELEGRAM AND LET YOU KNOW NOT TO SEND ME ANY TELEGRAMS FOR THE NEXT FOUR DAYS STOP I WILL BE VISITING MY GRANDPARENTS IN OKLAHOMA CITY STOP ALSO DADDY ARRANGED A TOUR OF THE UNIVERSITY WHILE WE ARE THERE STOP I SUPPOSE IT'S GETTING REAL NOW STOP
I HOPE YOU ARE WELL AND NEVER FORGET THAT I LOVE YOU STOP
YOURS FOREVER
BESSIE
The ride to Oklahoma City was a long one. Especially while sharing the backseat with a large, furry beast.
An argument ensued between the women of the Harlow household about the proper placement and boarding of the scoundrel. While Bessie's mother argued that a long trip in a car was no place for a dog, Bessie pointed out that there was nowhere for him to go now that Zac was gone and that he was so much more well-behaved since Mr. Anderson had taught her how to control him. Her mother came back with a statement about how Bessie's father's parents were much too old and much too sophisticated to allow such a mangy stray within five miles of their estate and Bessie shouted back that she'd caught her mother on at least a handful of occasions, slipping the "mangy mutt" table scraps when she thought no one was looking.
Finally, the judge stepped in and reminded his wife of the pair of St. Bernards that had the complete run of his parents' mansion, including access to the kitchen and every inch of upholstery on every floor of the house and this was how Scout was now happily hanging both his head and his tongue out the backseat window as the Harlows and Millie traveled a steady fifty miles per hour down the highway.
As Bessie rode in the backseat of the car, sandwiched between Millie and Scout, she was overcome with boredom. The road was too bumpy to write a letter to Zac or sketch a picture, there was nothing but farmland as far as the eye could see, and any conversation she wanted to have with Millie couldn't be had in front of her parents. It was the longest, hottest, most boring two hours of her life.
Bessie's and Millie's grandparents, John and Elizabeth Harlow, lived on a sprawling estate of two-hundred and fifty acres, farmland that had been accumulated and utilized over time. The Harlow family fortune had originally begun in farming and was built up secondhand by political government. Aside from being a member of Oklahoma's upper crust society, holding many a prestigious office in the state's government, John Harlow also excelled in the farming of wheat and corn, in turn investing his profits in the stock market and more than quadrupling his earnings. Bessie's father grew up with firsthand knowledge of the family farm, his father firmly believing that the more you knew, the more you made, so he made sure that his children were more than sufficiently educated and capable of leading and living fruitful and successful lives.
Upon passing the bar and coming home to marry her mother, Bessie's father took a position as an attorney in Tulsa and left Oklahoma City to build a life for himself and his new bride. To start, the couple lived small and simple, her mother caring for the home while her father worked, as she was raised a kept and privileged girl who had never seen the inside of a college classroom. It was a shock for her to move with her new husband and into a small apartment home as he refused help from his father, determined to make it on his own. It wasn't long, however, that he did use the smarts he was raised on and he did make it on his own, being elected judge at a young age and buying the farmhouse out in the country that would further supplement their small fortune that they were quickly accumulating, just the way his father did. By the time Bessie was three years old, the Harlows' wealth had grown three times over and they grew used to their luxurious lifestyle, raising Bessie accordingly.
When the stock market crashed in 1929 when Bessie was a young and impressionable fourteen-year-old, the lives that the family knew seemed to come to a standstill. The bank had lost a heavy chunk of the Harlows' savings, crop sales plummeted, and Jim Harlow was forced to abandon his farm. This caused the Harlows to take a step back and reexamine the way they lived their lives, now only relying on Jim's regular salary and the little bit that still trickled in from his stock market investments and, after a long conversation with each other, and then with Bessie, the couple decided that they wouldn't let this change affect them and they chose to embrace it and adapt to it. Through this, Bessie learned the value of a dollar, the value of hard work, and what it meant to appreciate the small things in life. She never took a single thing for granted, she never complained, and she regretted nothing. Four years later, the country still heavy under a depression, their luxurious socialite lifestyles seemingly a thing of the past, Bessie loved her parents and she loved her life. Honestly, Bessie didn't miss her father in white gloves and stirring tea with silver spoons and eating cream that was worth more than the car they rode to Oklahoma City in. Bessie liked it simple, she liked it easy, she liked it free.
Her grandparents, on the other hand, were still very much set in their ways.
Bessie couldn't help but appreciate the land her grandparents lived on. It was beautiful. Green and lush as far as the eye could see, beautifully landscaped with colorful bushes and trees and a few strategically-placed, manmade ponds. The long, seven minute drive up the driveway bumped the family along over old cobblestone that her father now complained about, vowing to convince his father to look into having it paved over. "It's 1933," he muttered, his voice bumping along with the car. "This is ridiculous, it's time to get with the times. They're paving everything now."
His complaints were met with silence and her mother occupied herself by looking over her shoulder at her daughter and stating, "You better keep that dog of yours on his leash. He doesn't need to be allowed to have the run of the property, getting lost and scaring the cows or the horses--"
"Hogs," her father corrected. "He doesn't deal with milk anymore, now it's hogs. Those are the hot commodity now."
Abandoning her instructions to Bessie, her mother now curled up her lip in disgust and turned her attention back to the road in front of her.
Millie's eyes lit up, however, and she grinned excitedly. "I wonder if that means there will be fresh bacon for breakfast?"
While her father and Millie busied themselves with talk of hogs and bacon, Bessie's mind wandered to Zac. Was it horrible to wish that he was sitting in the seat beside her instead of Millie? What would her grandparents think of him? Did she care? Not really. She was convinced that he would charm the stockings right off of her grandmother, though. She smiled to herself at the thought. He was so charming. And beautiful. With his hair so lustrous and thick and his eyelashes lining the heavenly shade of his brown eyes. His skin was flawless and smooth and so perfectly sun-kissed and his muscles...oh, wow, the way his arms rippled through his sleeves and his chest so broad and wide. And the way he wrapped her up in that body of his, so warm and safe. His breath against her ear as he whispered that he loved her--
"Here we are!" Bessie's father announced, violently shaking her from her fantasy that she'd gotten herself carried away in. For a split second she was angry with her father for interrupting her but now she was grateful. Focusing on spending these four days with her family would more than help speed up the time until Zac came home. How long would it be by the time she came home? A week and a half? The thought alone made her giddy with excitement.
"We were already here several minutes ago, Daddy," Bessie giggled.
"Bess, make sure to hook that leash onto that dog, I'm warning you," her mother reminded her as the family made their way out of the car doors and took some much-needed stretches.
"He probably needs to go," Bessie said, struggling to keep a now excited Scout under control. "I'll go walk him for a few minutes and then we'll come inside.
Unfortunately, there was hardly any difference in the weather in Oklahoma City. Bessie longed to travel somewhere where the heat didn't stifle her on a daily basis. She almost wished she could trust Scout enough to unhook his leash and leave him to his own devices so that she could go inside in the cool air but she didn't want to spend her entire visit hunting him down, either. So, she huffed out a sigh, gratefully averted her eyes as he did his business, and finally led him up toward the house.
Her grandparents' home was something Bessie could never tire of, as much as she loved her simpler life back home in Tulsa. Her family didn't travel here near enough and each time they visited, Bessie never failed to smile and tirelessly fantasize about being a princess, searching for her prince from one of the balconies high above her. The house was made entirely of brown stone, brought in by train, straight from New York City, and sat three stories high with a grand porch that wrapped entirely around it. The front entrance took you up a small set of stone steps and onto covered porch with a cathedral style ceiling. A pair of wrought iron doors invited you inside the grand foyer with brightly-polished, white, marble tile and underneath an elaborate crystal chandelier that hung overhead.
Upon entering the home, you were faced directly with the grand staircase that led to the second floor that sat to the right rear of the foyer and next to a set of white, wooden doors that no doubt still led to the billiard room. During their visits, Bessie's father and grandfather spent a great deal of their time in that room if they weren't out walking the property or smoking their pipes and taking their drinks in the smoking room upstairs. Directly to the foyer's right was a grand, stone fireplace that Bessie fondly remembered as so beautifully and elaborately decorated with garland and ribbons and candles when they spent their Christmases there. Bessie grinned at the fireplace with elated joy. Oh, how she simply couldn't wait to bring Zac here for Christmas. It would be the most perfect holiday ever.
As Bessie stood there and fantasized, Scout, still on his leash, dragged her over to the parlor bench against the wall on the right and began nosing anxiously around her family's luggage. Sighing, she pulled gently on the leash to keep him away. "Yes, yes, that belongs to us. We are here. Get used to it."
"Bessie, dear, is that you? Oh, sweetheart, let me get a look at you!" Her grandmother's voice rang like a bell through the walls of the house and Bessie smiled at the sound before her face turned to horror in less than a second.
The two enormous beasts, easily twice the size of Scout, came barreling into the foyer, their paws slipping and sliding around on the floors, a mixture of fur and drool keeping them steadily unsteady. They paid Bessie absolutely no mind, coming straight for Scout and circling and sniffing at him in a worried frenzy. Scout's hair raised on end all the way from his spine to the tip of his tail and Bessie could hear the low murmur coming from his throat. She had to admit nervousness as her mind flashed back to the first day she ever saw Scout and Zac had been scared to death, implying that he was a horrible, monstrous beast. Now she prayed on everything that was holy that today he wouldn't be proven right.
"Ferdinand! Louie!" Her grandmother scolded them as she rounded the corner into the foyer. "The two of you come here right this instant!"
Miraculously, the two beasts, easily the size of a couple of miniature bears--or maybe full size bears, who knew?--tucked their large brown tails against their fluffy white bodies, and carried their sad, brown eyes back to their mother. Bessie stifled a laugh. For a couple of big, snarly monsters, the two dogs were nothing but a couple of overgrown pussycats. Why, Bessie likely could have scared them away with the snap of her fingers!
"You take that baby of yours off that godforsaken leash and come here and give your grandmamma a hug!"
Bessie loved her Grandma Elizabeth. That woman embodied everything Bessie wished to grow up as--loving, compassionate, quick-witted, and light on her feet. There wasn't a mean, pretentious bone in that woman's body and she never met a stranger or an enemy. Elizabeth Crowell Harlow was a small woman, standing a good four inches shorter than Bessie, with a delicate, petite frame, wearing her sixty-eight years with as much grace and beauty as a woman twenty years her junior. Her soft, silver hair was wrapped in a sophisticated twist in the back and she wore an ankle-length, floral day dress with the sleeves tapering off of her shoulders. The skin on her arms was so soft and light and Bessie only dreamed of being half as beautiful at her age.
She felt like a giant as she bent down to hug her grandmother, but it didn't make her feel any less like a little girl again as she smiled and breathed in the scent of lavender and powder that radiated off of her. "Oh, sweetheart," her grandmother said as she squeezed her shoulders. "I feel like it's been a lifetime since I've seen you."
Bessie pulled away and she giggled. "I feel like I've grown a lifetime since I saw you."
Her grandmother looked her over. "You certainly have. But you've grown into a beautiful young woman. I'm so proud of you." Then she turned her body and looked all around her. "So who's the strapping young lad you brought with you?"
Bessie giggled again. "That's Scout. He, um, belongs to my beau and I."
Her grandmother raised her eyebrows, suddenly giving Bessie her full attention. "Beau, you say? Well, where is he? When I do get to meet him?"
Bessie bit her lip and hesitated for a moment, silently cursing herself for her hesitation. How dare she, even for a moment, even remotely come close to being ashamed of Zac? She was proud of him. More than proud of him, she was...in front of her high-society grandmother.
Fidgeting with her hands, she said, "He's traveling for work right now."
Her grandmother arched an eyebrow of intrigue. "Traveling for work, hm? What sort of work? Business? Transport? Missionary for the church?"
Bessie swallowed and she looked her grandmother in the eye. "Um...with the carnival."
The old woman's face fell flat and Bessie's heart began to pound. "The carnival, huh?" Then she turned on her heel. "Clearly, we have quite a bit to catch up on. Come with me, dear."
**********
Minutes later, the two women were mixing sugar into the their tea in a kitchen as grand and ornate as the rest of the Victorian-inspired home was, preparing to take their tea into the grand parlor and find a quiet corner so they could talk amongst themselves. As Bessie's heels clicked cautiously over the painstakingly-waxed, hardwood floors, she found herself remarking her grandmother, "The last time we were here, I barely remember you ever setting foot in the kitchen."
The pair took a seat by a window near the back corner of the room as the late afternoon sun shone through the sheer, white curtains, assisting in the brightening of the room that the stark white walls had already started. The ceiling above them, the same shade of white, was intricately carved around the border, beautifully contrasting the rich, honey-colored floors that were underneath them. The furniture, including the blue, upholstered sofa that they sat on, was as intricate as the ceiling design, the room boasting a well put together mixture of antiques, handmade originals, and modern pieces. Several Persian rugs covered the floors beyond them, holding up marble-top tables and armchairs lined in velvet. Bessie's own home was decorated with similar furniture, but was a much more mild version of the one she sat in now. Still, though, it didn't keep her from sitting in her grandparents' house and fantasizing every hour of the day when she visited.
"Oh, Jessy is still with us," her grandmother said, raising her teacup to her lips. "Today is her day off. I told her that in the spirit of family with your visit, that she should go and spend time with hers. She'll be back tomorrow, though."
Jessy was a woman much younger than Bessie's grandmother, but much older than Bessie. She'd worked for her grandparents for years and Bessie ventured to guess that she must have been in her mid-thirties. She was a plain-looking woman with seemingly no shape, hardly any color to her face, and long, stringy brown hair. But she was one of the sweetest people Bessie had ever met and she made the best blackberry cobbler Bessie had ever put in her mouth. Oh, how she prayed that was on the weekend's menu.
Bessie remembered when she used to feel for Jessy. The poor woman did it all, it seemed, being at her grandparents' beckon call all the time. They also employed two housekeepers who did the cleaning and the laundry, and then there were all the men who kept up the farms across the property. Inside, though, it seemed quiet that day.
"I only have the help coming a few times a week now. The country's depression seems to have slowed the action down around here. We don't get near as many visitors as we used to because nobody can afford to travel anymore. So it's only your grandfather and I here and not enough going on to do much else besides the regular dusting. We keep Jessy full time, though." Her grandmother sipped her tea and then huffed a breath. "Well. Enough about our hired help, let's hear more about this beau of yours."
Bessie blinked her eyes with surprise at her grandmother's sudden enthusiasm. "You...you want to know about Zac?"
"His name is Zac? Short for Zachary, I presume."
"Yes."
"And? Does he have a last name?"
"Hanson," Bessie stammered.
"Zachary Hanson," her grandmother repeated in thought. Then her shoulders seemed to perk up. "It sounds like a good, strong name."
Bessie couldn't stop the reply that tumbled out of her mouth. "Well, he's a good, strong man."
The girl and her grandmother fell into a bewildered silence for a moment before the two of them burst into a fit of giggles.
"Is he, now?" Her grandmother said as they recovered from their laughter. "Tell me, dear, what on earth possessed you to take such an interest in a man who travels with the carnival?"
Bessie was surprised at the shallow thought that was the first thing to enter her mind at this question, but it was too late to go back on it now. Her face lit up as she reached into the pocket of her dress. "I have a photograph," she offered. "Would you like to see?"
"Very much so," her grandmother replied, lifting the small bifocals that hung on a chain around her neck.
Bessie produced the photograph of the two of them that Zac had sent her and her grandmother examined it carefully for a moment. "Is he always that much of a sourpuss?"
Bessie giggled and shook her head. "No. He's very pleasant. He just didn't want his photograph taken that day."
"He looks, uh...why, he looks a bit older than you..."
Bessie blushed. "He's twenty-six."
Her grandmother's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling for a minute before her face calmed and she handed the photo back to her granddaughter. "I suppose I can't judge. Your grandfather is nearly ten years older than me..."
Now it was Bessie's eyebrows that hit the ceiling. "Is he really? He doesn't even look it!"
"Your grandfather comes from very good genes," she smirked slyly. "It's one of the reasons I married him. And speaking of good genes, you got yourself an awfully handsome one, there."
"He is," Bessie agreed dreamily.
"I'm surprised your father hasn't kicked the bucket over it. You know, since he's not a doctor or a law man or any of that mumbo jumbo."
Bessie's grandmother was full of surprises that day. Bessie had come into this already convinced that her grandmother would hate Zac on the spot for not being one of the "mumbo jumbos" she'd just spoken of. The fact that she called her son's preferences "mumbo jumbo" told Bessie everything she needed to know. Her grandmother approved and now Bessie knew exactly where her outlook on life had come from.
And on the subject of good genes, they also apparently skipped generations.
"So what's going on with you and this beau of yours? Future plans? How long have you been seeing him?"
"Um, a little over a month now," she replied shyly. "Not very long at all. But I feel like I've known him a lifetime and I'm so deeply in love with him. We intend to be married after I've finished school." Then Bessie paused to shake her head. "But, please, Daddy doesn't know yet."
Her grandmother seemed unconcerned with the way her son felt about anything. "You love him? Your first boyfriend, your first love? You want to marry him?"
"Yes."
"After you've finished school. That's a long time."
"It's enough time for him to prepare a home for us in Tulsa."
"On carnival money," her grandmother clarified.
"It's enough time to prepare," Bessie repeated.
"Hm," she nodded. Then she lifted her teacup again. "Your grandfather and I were married two weeks after we met."
Bessie nearly choked. "Two weeks?"
"It was the 1880's," she said. "Back then, nobody pussyfooted around, courting and dating and such. When you knew, you knew. It was love at first sight, John and I. Neither one of us had two pennies to rub together, we both grew up poor, living off the prairie lands. We met in church. He was new in town. I was seventeen. He convinced me to neck with him behind the church the first Sunday we met and let me tell you, sweetheart, I knew right then I'd never neck with another man for as long as I lived. We disappeared from any church activities for the rest of the day. The good lord above knew that I'd burn up like the blazes if I set foot back in that place after what your grandfather and I had just done."
Bessie couldn't choose which expression her face wanted to make. She blushed, she gaped, she giggled. Her grandmother was a naughty seventeen-year-old. It was something she would have never pictured.
Then her grandmother smiled and shook her head. "It's been the best fifty-one years a woman could ask for. Like I said, we started with nothing. We just knew we were in love and we wanted to be married. We scraped and we scrounged and we struggled--but your grandfather is a very smart, very determined man. We started a small garden on a tiny patch of the yard of our very meager house. We started selling the crops. Demand grew. Our land grew bigger. He was able to put himself through law school, but we never stopped farming. Our scraping and scrounging and never giving up got us here. And we did every single bit of it together. It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor, Bessie. What matters is that you get through life together. As long as you take care of each other and support each other and work together, you can do anything. And while we're on the subject, don't let that carnival business fool you, young lady. It might not appear as such, but there is serious money to be made in that business. The truth is, people are queer folk. And they'll put up good money to feed their curiosities. Why, who do you think funds the carnival every year? Why would people want to work the carnivals? It's certainly not because they like sleeping on the ground in tents and contorting their bodies in unnatural ways. It's because they're raking in that dough. Say, what does your beau do in the carnival, anyway?"
"He's a magician. He has an act with his brothers. They do all sorts of tricks--card tricks, levitations, disappearing acts..." Bessie paused and smiled. "We met at the carnival during one of their performances. He turned a wand into flowers and then he winked at me. And I think my knees turned to jelly." Then her expression turned serious and her face fell. "I've been so miserable since he's been gone. It's been nearly three weeks now. He's supposed to come home soon, but not soon enough."
"I don't even want to imagine the level of necking that will go on once he comes home," her grandmother remarked.
Once again, Bessie blushed and she giggled. She needed this more than she thought she did. She needed this visit, she needed this conversation, she needed this quality time with her grandmother. She needed someone to tell her that everything she was feeling was okay. She needed her grandmother's approval of her relationship, she needed a sort of validation that the relationship was strong enough to make Zac want to hurry home to her. Not that she ever had any real doubts about it. Just quiet fears that would creep up every once in awhile, enough to make her uncomfortable.
From there, the conversation turned into plans for Christmas and the two women had lost track of the time until Bessie's mother walked into the room and informed Bessie, "It would probably be a good idea if you took your dog outside again. He had an accident in the house just now."
Sighing, Bessie sat down her empty teacup and rose from the sofa. Scout was determined to make this a long, stressful weekend.
_______________________________________
The University of Oklahoma in Norman, Oklahoma, was proudly regarded as the tenth largest state institution in the nation. It was a sprawling one hundred and sixty seven acres of academics as far as the eye could see and Judge Harlow smiled proudly at the admissions building as he stepped out of the car, along with his wife and his daughter, the future graduate.
This day was bittersweet and the judge's mind had been going a mile a minute during the forty minute drive to Norman, located south of Oklahoma City, and home of The University of Oklahoma's main campus. It seemed like just yesterday, he was sending his tiny daughter off to her first day of kindergarten. Now they were preparing to tour what would be her home for the next four years and in just a little over a month, he would be sending her on her way. The idea tugged hard on his heartstrings, but he kept it to himself and kept the car ride jovial and light and making sure to give Bessie all the reasons why she would enjoy her college experience and made sure to recount his own experiences, one right after the other.
Now his wife hooked her elbow around his arm and he led his small family up the long sidewalk and up to the large, brick building with the grand façade. "Did you know this establishment is only forty-three years old?" The judge mused out loud. "It's not near as old and established as, say, Yale, but it's a highly accredited institution in its own right. And from what I understand, Millie and Judith absolutely love it here!"
Within minutes, after walking into the large building with the cathedral ceilings and waxed floors, and giving the receptionist their name, she whisked away and they were quickly met by a woman in a tan-colored matching skirt and blazer suit. "Martha Stiltner, Dean of Admissions," she said, extending her arm to shake hands with the family. "So wonderful to finally be meeting you, Judge Harlow."
Her smile was warm and genuine under her short, dark curls, and as soon as the judge introduced his wife and his daughter, the quartet were quickly on their way.
Dean Stiltner seemed to speak a mile a minute as they walked the huge campus, building to building. She spoke proudly of the university's history, of the qualified faculty, and the amenities offered by the dormitories. "We have a brand new library that was just built four years ago and named after the school's president. He's done so much for the school in the short time he's been with us. He's really turned things around here. Come and we'll explore one of the top research libraries in the country. I promise you've never seen anything like it!"
The more Dean Stiltner talked, the more excited Judge Harlow became. He tried to ignore the fact that Bessie had very little to contribute and asked almost no questions at all. He and his wife, however, were brimming with them and wasted no time asking each and every one.
By the time the nearly three-hour tour was complete, the small family was famished and they spread out the picnic lunch they'd brought along out on the greens in front of the admissions building. Bessie wasn't very much for words and Jim and Catherine couldn't seem to stop going on about all the positive things they'd seen and heard about the campus. "I knew we made a right decision to send you here," Jim boasted. "Why, you and Millie and Judith will be like the Three Musketeers here, just like you are back home."
"For a year," Bessie muttered. "Until they graduate."
"Well, see there," her mother smiled. "You're already in close with the senior class. Socializing will be absolutely no problem for you."
"Yes," Bessie agreed unenthusiastically. "I'll also be familiar with Billy Connors and Lawrence Baker..."
"I wonder what this school's policy is on criminal records," Jim mused out loud, mostly to himself. "I mean I'm sure Stan will slide Billy in without a problem, but I don't know so much about the Baker boy..."
Finally, after lunch was over, they were each sitting in a chair in Dean Stiltner's office, Bessie sandwiched between her parents.
"So," Dean Stiltner smiled. "What did you think of the campus?"
Jim and Catherine wasted no time singing its praises while she directed her attention at Bessie. "Miss Harlow?"
"It's nice," Bessie replied quietly.
"Nice," Jim smiled, beginning to sense his daughter's potential displeasure and desperately trying to deflect it. "Why, she's so awed by it, she's practically speechless!"
"Well," the dean smiled warmly. "It is quite a lot to take in for someone's first trip to college. Most of the freshmen are shy, it takes them a little bit to warm up to it." Then she slipped on her bifocals and began to leaf through a small stack of papers on the desk in front of her. "So, Miss Harlow...I see here that your goal is to become an art teacher. So you'll be seeking an art education degree...or some semblance of an equivalent..."
"Yes, ma'am," Bessie replied.
"Hm," the dean sounded, furrowing her brow. Then she took off her bifocals and rested her elbows on the desk. "We have wonderful arts and education programs here. In fact, we have both the College of Education and the College of Fine Arts right here on campus in two different buildings which will serve all your needs and we're more than honored by your interest. However, I'm forced to admit that due to the current nature of our country's economy, our enrollment rate--as well as our dropout rate--has seen some drastic changes over the past few years. While we strive to offer the very best of all of our areas of academics, I must admit that the fine arts department is one that is frighteningly close to being unavailable for this coming school year based on the level of interest. Unfortunately, there just isn't a high demand for arts degrees or arts educators right now."
Bessie's face fell and the judge's heart dropped out of his chest on his daughter's behalf. "But," she stammered. "But art is what I came here for. It's what I do."
"She said the education program was wonderful," the judge offered softly. "You could teach so much more than art--"
"But I don't want to teach anything other than art," Bessie snapped back in a whisper. "I think if money is going to exchange hands and tuition is going to be paid, I should be allowed to do what I want."
The judge had never seen this side of Bessie before--she was bordering on coming across as a spoiled brat and she didn't want the dean to get that impression of his daughter. The truth was, though, the girl made a very valid point. And he simply couldn't ignore it.
"Excuse my daughter's behavior," the judge said to the dean. "It's been a very stressful past few weeks for her and, like you said, the first time at college is quite an undertaking. I would like to ask, though, what are the odds of finding a place in any type of arts program for her? She's very talented..."
"Well, as I said, it's not definite that the department won't be offered this year," the dean said. "I just wanted to make you aware that it could be a possibility. Now, there is an option as far as an arts school goes--it isn't affiliated with the University of Oklahoma, but it is a great school--called The Oklahoma College for Women in Chickasha. It is specifically a liberal arts school and does offer degrees in art, as well as many other liberal arts and sciences as well. Now, Chickasha is about an hour south of here, but--"
"No," Bessie spat, whipping her head around to her father. "No. I'm not going to Chickasha. Do you realize how far away we are from Tulsa already?"
The judge thought his daughter might hyperventilate on the spot and he wished he had an immediate remedy for her.
"See, Bessie has a cousin and a best friend who are going to be seniors here this coming year," Catherine smile, obviously trying to put the focus back on the campus they sat on in Norman. "She'll be more comfortable here, with people she knows, especially for her first year in college."
"Why, that's a wonderful way to start your college career," Dean Stiltner smiled warmly. "Who are your cousin and your friend, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Millie Jennings and Judith Carter," Bessie answered.
The dean met her reply with a blank expression. "Can't say I'm familiar with those names. Then again, you can't be on a first name basis with every single student on a campus this size. What are they studying?"
"Nursing."
At this, the dean pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in thought, shaking her head slowly. "Then it's impossible that they go here, I'm afraid."
"But they do go here," Bessie shot back. "Both of them do, they've been going here for the past three years."
"Not if they're studying nursing. Now the University of Oklahoma does have a branch in Oklahoma City that is dedicated strictly to healthcare, the University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center. We don't offer any type of medical degree on this campus. All medical students go to Oklahoma City."
Bessie let out a huff and sat back in her chair, uncharacteristic of her and the judge was growing increasingly agitated by her behavior. "Dean Stiltner, we greatly appreciate you taking the time out of your day to meet with us and show us around. It appears that we have a little decision-making to do as far as her major goes, but I assure you we will be in touch. And soon. After all, the start of the school year is just around the corner."
"That it is," she agreed as the four of them stood up together and shook hands. "Now, remember, you can start your year without a major in mind. You can get some of your core classes in and make your decision a little bit later, if you like. Either way, we're more than happy to welcome you to our school, Miss Harlow. Oh! And while I'm thinking about it, you are more than welcome to come and spend the night on campus tonight if you'd like, just to get a feel of what college life would be like, if it might help any of the decisions you're having to make."
"Why, that sounds like a wonderful idea!" Catherine marveled. "Bessie, dear, doesn't that sound like a wonderful idea?"
"Not without Millie," Bessie whispered.
"Oh, of course your cousin may come along!" The dean said. "She's already a student at the university anyway and, besides, I certainly wouldn't ask you to spend the night in this new, big place all alone!"
The judge was pleased with the fact that Bessie was much more polite and open to the idea of spending the night on campus. As they were leaving, his first instinct was to give her a piece of his mind the moment they closed the car doors, but he had to stop himself. For someone like his daughter, who had such a lust for life and a genuine love and joy for everything, her odd silence and even more odd behavior that day caused him to try to put himself in her shoes and remember his first time at college. The dean was right, it was an awful lot to take in. She was likely mulling and thinking and overall nervous. It would explain a lot and he couldn't blame her for it, either. He was confident, though, that this sleepover on campus would help put her in the right spirit. A sleepover with her cousin, who loved college. If anyone could heal his daughter's nerves, it was Millie. For that, the judge's mind remained at ease.
___________________________________________
"You don't need some stuffy dean or resident hostess telling you anything about what it's like to live in the dorms," Millie said as the pair unpacked their suitcases on twin beds that sat on opposite walls in the small room. "It's a good thing you have me here to clue you in on what it's really like."
Hester Hall very much resembled much of the rest of the campus Bessie had seen, namely the admissions building and the new Bizzell Library, in a style that Dean Stiltner like to refer to as "Cherokee Gothic." The gothic style, Bessie could definitely gather, but she supposed the "Cherokee" part was added in because of the area's rich Native American history. It didn't really matter to Bessie, anyway. Architecture wasn't exactly her forte.
The dormitory was one of two women's dormitories, the other one, Robertson Hall, was connected to Hester by a kitchen, dining room, and lounge. As Bessie thought about how she might sit on the edge of one of the constructed ponds, surrounded by shrubs and flowers as she wrote to Zac, Millie was listlessly going over dormitory rules with a wave of her hand, as if they didn't mean a thing to her. "I'd imagine most dormitories are about the same," she said. "No gentleman in the ladies' rooms, both feet on the floor at all dances and at the union, strict ten o'clock curfew or else you'll get expelled...just the usual, you know."
Bessie had finished her unpacking and sat herself gently on the edge of her bed, the two beds separated by two small desks that sat side-by-side in front of the window. At the end of each bed stood wooden wardrobes, one for each student, and that was the extent of the provided furniture. According to Millie's earlier ramblings, bathrooms were shared between rooms and Bessie was thankful that they didn't have neighbors during this little excursion.
As she sat, she couldn't decide which thought occupied her mind more--what were the plans for dinner and how she wished they had a radio in the room. She had been about to vocalize one of these thoughts when Millie sat on the edge of her bed across from her, her eyes lighting up. "So. Speaking of the union, I already caught wind of a party going on tonight at the Alpha Tau Omega house. It would be your first college party, Bessie! Isn't that exciting?"
And now a new set of queries took over her mind all at once. "The what-what-what house?" Bessie asked incredulously. "What on earth is that? And there are others here besides us? It's summer!"
"The football players usually come early to start practicing," Millie informed her, matter-of-factly. "And most of the team are Alpha Tau Omegas."
"What's a...an Alpha Too...?"
"Alpha Tau Omega. It's a fraternity." Then she let out a breath. "Sororities and fraternities are same-sex groups who all live in the same house on campus. They're all different groups, and the biggest ones usually house the more popular students. That's the one we're going to tonight."
Bessie's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "You're saying we're going to be the only two females at this party?!"
Millie laughed, tossing her raven curls off of her shoulder. "No, silly! The cheerleader girls will be there, too. One of them slipped me this piece of paper with the information on it while Dean Stiltner was walking us down the hallway just a little bit ago. Oh, I'm so excited! These parties are always the best!"
"Well...well, yes, but-but didn't you just say that being out after curfew could get you expelled?"
"How can we have a curfew? School isn't even in session right now! We're just testing the waters for you!" Then she lowered her voice and leaned over just a little. "Even still, though, we're going to sneak back in here like school really is in session. You'll need to practice, after all." Then she sat back up and giggled again. "This will be so perfect. You'll already be in with the popular crowd before you even start here!"
At this, an entirely new reality struck Bessie dumb. "Oh my heavens," she muttered. "Are Billy and Lawrence going to be there?"
"Highly unlikely," Millie replied, shaking her head. "After all, Billy can't play ball, and Lawrence...well, it would probably be in his best interest to high tail it here, but I'm sure he isn't here this weekend. Shame for him, though. He'll sure miss a good time."
**********
Bessie and Millie walked up to Rhyne Hall Fraternity House, home of the Alpha Tau Omegas, to the sounds of a rousing rendition of "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow" that could be heard in questionable harmony from outside the door. It took several loud knocks from Millie before the door was answered by a rather large boy in tan trousers and a striped, short-sleeved shirt. From underneath his strawberry blonde comb-over, Bessie thought her neck might get a cramp upon looking at him.
He smiled, arching an eyebrow as he openly eyed both women from top to bottom. Millie had insisted on wearing her best cloche hat and gloves while Bessie opted for neither. She simply pinned her hair back off her shoulders, threw on a day dress and leisure jacket, and went on her way.
The tall boy must have seen what he liked because he let out a low whistle before he remarked with a smile, "Well, hello, ladies. Here for the party?"
"Of course," Millie flirted with a smile. "Why else would we be here?"
"By all means," he said, stepping out of the way to let them in the door. "Welcome to Alpha Tau Omega, best fraternity on campus."
"Indeed," Millie grinned as she led Bessie through the door.
Stepping into the fraternity house, there seemed to be a sea of boys as far as the eye could see. There were button-down shirts, bowties and neckties, sweaters with letters on them, and comb-overs for miles. Bessie sighed on the inside. She missed her muscle-bound, five o'clock shadow-wearing, long-haired, free spirit of a man. What was he doing right now? Most importantly, what would he do if he knew she was at this party?
She had to backtrack on the muscle. There was an abundance of muscle and testosterone in the room. After all, Millie had said that almost the entire fraternity was on one sports team or another. Mostly football. As she surveyed the room, observing the boys milling around, she watched warily as they talked in small groups, most of them with drinks in their hands, or played pool on a billiard table or ping pong in another corner. Bessie found herself wondering who "the jolly good fellow" was when her eyes landed on the food tables--and the cake.
She nearly salivated on sight.
"Millie," Bessie hissed. "They have cake!"
Millie turned around and scowled at her cousin, tucking her clutch tighter under her arm. "I can't believe you're thinking about cake when you have all of...this...standing around." She motioned to the room full of boys and Bessie gaped at her in shock.
"Millie! You have a boyfriend!"
Suddenly, Millie's enthusiastic expression fell flat. "Come on, Bess. He's queer. He knows it, I know it, everybody knows it."
"But, still, that doesn't--that doesn't mean you can cheat on him! He still has feelings!"
"Well, heavens, Bessie, nobody said anything about cheating on him. I'm simply socializing and enjoying the view. There's no harm in that!"
Bessie had no argument for that. She knew Millie cared for Joey and his feelings. She supposed it was time to give Millie a little more credit than she had been. After all, she was an adult and she could make her own decisions--just like Bessie could.
And Bessie decided that she wanted cake.
To her delight, as she veered off to the left of the large living room, leading into a dining area where the food was being stored, she spotted a few girls. Thank heavens she and Millie weren't the only two there! As she approached the table, however, the three girls that stood in a group, conversing with each other, paused their conversation long enough to give her a disdainful once-over and then went about their conversation. Normally, this would have hurt Bessie's feelings. It would have rendered her severely self-conscious and accepting a blow to her self-esteem. But not tonight. Little did those girls know, Bessie didn't exactly want to be there, anyway. The joke was on them.
But it was Bessie who felt like the joke was being played on, because there was no knife to cut the cake with and no utensils to eat it with. How did dining utensils simply vanish? The cake was half-eaten!
The sudden realization of the disappearance of the cake knife caused Bessie to grow momentarily, ridiculously nervous and it cause her to look over each of her shoulders as calmly as she could muster. As she turned her shoulders to the right to see behind her, she was startled to come face-to-face with what was easily the most handsome boy in the entire fraternity. She immediately felt ashamed for her silent admission.
"You look lost," he smiled. His smile was warm and comforting, subsequently disturbing Bessie.
"Um," she stammered, feeling the blood rising to her cheeks. "Um, I'm...there's no cake knife," she blurted.
'There's no cake knife.' Superb social skills, Bessie. Absolutely superb.
"Well, look there," he replied, his grin widening with an unmistakable twinkle in his devastatingly blue eyes. He raised the knife up and twirled around in his hand. "It fell in the floor and it needed to be washed. I was just bringing it back."
Her expression must have matched what flashed through her mind, much to her embarrassment, because then his entire expression turned into one of realization and remorse. "That looked bad, didn't it?" He admitted.
Bessie could only nod.
Carefully, he stepped past her, practically on his tip toes, and he reached for a plate. "I could cut you a slice, if you like," he offered.
Bessie wasn't even sure she had an appetite anymore. But, then, who was she kidding? It was cake. And she couldn't say no. Especially given the fact that it was chocolate.
And, so, she nodded again.
The boy was tall. Taller than the one who had answered the door. This boy stood at least six and a half feet with bigger shoulders than she had ever seen. His dark brown comb-over was simply that--combed over. There was no grease or any other kind of product to hold it down like most of the other boys' were. His lustrous, shiny hair was all natural, even down to the way it lay in its part. The tip of it nearly brushed his eyebrow and Bessie noticed that he had to shake it out of his face every now and then and sometimes he would just run a hand through it and it would just fall beautifully into place. His hair sure did give Taylor's a run for its money, that was for sure.
With his dark hair and his blue eyes and his square jaw and the dimple that dared try to make its presence known when he smiled, Bessie grew increasingly uncomfortable at how much she noticed him. Was this what noticing boys was all about? Were you supposed to blush every time you saw an attractive boy even when you had a beau?
At the thought of Zac, Bessie felt horrible. She felt like merely looking at this boy was a sin that could be detrimental to their relationship. After all, Zac was the most attractive man in possibly the entire world--and even next to this football player, he still was. But what did that say about her, being attracted to another man? It didn't seem natural. It didn't seem right. She felt like a horrible person.
The boy interrupted her thoughts by handing her a plate of pure chocolate heaven that intoxicated the air around her as her nostrils inhaled the sweet aroma. And then, to her horror, he cut himself a slice and didn't seem to be in a hurry to be anywhere as he turned around and he smiled at her once more. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you new?"
Bessie swallowed, painfully aware that she still didn't have a fork to keep her occupied. "I start in the fall."
"Getting to experience it early, then, huh?"
"I suppose so," she replied shyly.
"That's good," he nodded. "That's real good. Say, what's your name, doll?"
"Bessie. Um, Bessie Harlow."
He smiled again. He always seemed to smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Bessie. I'm Robert Clayton. Quarterback. Welcome to The University of Tulsa."
"Um, thank you," she smiled. Then she glanced at the table again uncomfortably.
Robert was extremely observant, it seemed. Taking two, long strides sideways, he plucked two forks off of the other end of the table and offered one to Bessie. Then he winked at her. That sobered her up in a matter of seconds because nobody could wink at her and have the same affect on her the way Zac did. Not anybody. And that helped her relax and feel better, remembering that her one and only true love was Zac and that she would never long for anyone else for as long as she lived.
"Say, Bessie. Why don't you and I take our desserts outside on the porch and get away from all this noise, shall we? It sure feels nice out there tonight."
With her new found confidence and trust in herself, she lifted her chin and she smiled. "Well, all right. It does feel a bit stuffy in here, anyway. Some fresh air would be nice."
Bessie followed Robert through the kitchen, out the back door, and onto a wooden porch with a wraparound railing. There wasn't much left of the sun in the dusk sky and it was barely any cooler than it had been earlier in the day, but Bessie enjoyed the quiet of the outdoors anyway. The porch overlooked a small, well-kept yard, a few trees, and a neighboring house close by. She was only mildly interested in who might occupy the house, but she wasn't concerned enough to ask. The bite of chocolate cake she had forked into her mouth was practically melting on her tongue and she was momentarily in heaven.
She couldn't resist vocalizing her confectionary pleasure. "This is so delicious," she commented, her mouth still full of cake.
Robert's smile was bright with amusement, the twinkle returning to his eye. Bessie chose to ignore how nice his smile was. "It's delightful, isn't it?"
"Very," she agreed, shoving another forkful in.
And then he chuckled, his laugh deep, warm, and genuine, and she noticed that he'd barely touched his own cake. "I take it you really love cake."
"It's my favorite food," she nodded with a swallow. "Well, after popcorn, that is."
"I could eat my weight in popcorn," Robert agreed. "And look at me. That's a lot of weight."
"It isn't bad weight, though," Bessie replied. "You're extremely muscular and I'm sure most of your weight comes from your impressive height."
Bessie stopped herself and her eyes widened in realization of her blunt honesty and uncharacteristic lack of verbal inhibitions. Had she just complimented a boy? And why did she speak so freely to him? Should she even be out here with him? Alone, even? Was she doing anything wrong? Was she doing anything right? What were the rules when it came to male and female interaction when one was in love with someone else? Was Zac eating cake with other girls and complimenting them? He certainly better not be.
Who was Bessie kidding? Zac was in the big city now. He probably spoke to girls--multiple girls--every single day and never thought twice about it. Contrary to popular belief, Bessie believed that it was okay to have friends, no matter if they were the same sex or not. Society believed that platonic friendship between boys and girls, men and women, was something that either couldn't or shouldn't exist. But Bessie was friends with Joey, wasn't she? And Zac and his brothers were friends with Millie and Judith. That was it. Bessie was doing nothing wrong. And if Zac didn't like it by the time he came home, she would give him a piece of her mind--after she smothered him in hugs and drowned him in kisses.
"Well, football will do that to you, I suppose," Robert nodded, finally taking a bite of his cake. When he swallowed, he continued. "So, Bessie. You're coming here in the fall, you say. What's your major of study?"
"I want to be an art teacher," she announced proudly. Then she cleared her throat and rethought her answer. "Art education, I mean." She supposed that if she was going to start coming to college and interacting with actual college students, she should start thinking better of her vocabulary.
"Art education, huh?" Robert nodded, taking in her words with thought. "That's interesting. Most girls come here to teach arithmetic or study nursing at the medical school. You're interested in art. That's different. Are you an artist, yourself?"
"I am," she nodded. "I mostly sketch and paint, but I'd love to get my hands dirty and sculpt sometime!"
"Wow," he chuckled. "Another thing I thought I'd never hear from a girl. You're certainly something interesting, Bessie, you know that?"
"Well," she breathed modestly. "I'm not that interesting..."
"Yeah? You just shoveled that entire cake in your mouth like your life depended on it, you like to draw, and you have no qualms about dirty hands, apparently. I'd say that's pretty interesting."
"I'm sure nurses get their hands plenty dirty," she pointed out. "What with dealing with blood and bodily fluids--"
"You have nice hands," he said suddenly, placing his plate gently on the wooden railing beside him. "Has anyone ever told you that before?"
Being the honest person that she was, Bessie stopped to rack her brain for an answer. Had anyone ever told her that before? Had Zac ever told her that? Her heart sank when she realized that she didn't remember ever hearing him say it. Well, it was such an odd and random compliment, anyway...
"Thank you," she smiled. "I never really thought about it before."
"Well, you should. I believe hands are the most fascinating part of the body. They are solely responsible for keeping the human race alive. You couldn't live without your hands." Then he cocked his head in thought. "Well, actually, you could...it would be difficult, though..." Then he shook his head and hung it with a sheepish smile. "Who am I kidding, I'm not a biological scientist. I tried, though, right? I mean, who compliments hands, right? I should compliment the shade of the hazel your eyes are or how soft your hair is..." He took a step toward her. "Or the perfection of your lips..."
Bessie's eyes widened in horror and she quickly took a step back, unable to go any further, having been stopped by the corner of the railing. "So, do you major in football?" She spat out.
Robert stopped in his tracks, a bewildered expression flashing across his face. It took a moment for the question to register with him before he relaxed his enormous shoulders and threw his head back in laughter. Bessie couldn't decide if she was humiliated or relieved, but one thing was for sure--he wasn't trying to kiss her anymore and that was all that mattered.
He leaned his arm on the railing and crossed his ankle over the other, relaxing in a smile and shaking his head. "Um, no. No, you don't 'major' in football." Then he cleared his throat and looked around him cautiously. "Football isn't a major," he said, his voice hushed. "But it is a scholarship. The truth is, I'm a chemistry major. The fellas don't know it, so I don't exactly want it getting around. But I only play football to pay my way toward becoming a chemist. Science is my real passion. Not football. And if I knew I could get into college without football, I would have done it."
Bessie was stunned. Impressed, even. She had always grown up believing that most, if not all, athletes did nothing but play ball. Very few of them ever acted interested in academics at all and they never ceased to poke fun of those that did value their educations. She could understand why Robert didn't want his fellow teammates to know anything about his passion for science. College must not have been terribly different from high school, she determined.
"Well, I, um...I never would have guessed," she admitted.
"I know," he nodded solemnly. "It's not that I'm ashamed of it or anything. I'd just prefer to keep my college life as incident-free as possible, you know?"
"Well--well, what do the other boys major in?"
"We don't really discuss it much. I know one of them, at least, is a law major. I'm not sure if he's coming back this year or not, though. Word getting around is that he had an injury back home that'll prevent him from playing this year. Shame, though. He's one of our best."
Bessie swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "Is that so...? How...unfortunate. Did, um, does word get around fast around here?"
"It can," Robert shrugged. "Depends on what it is and who knows it. We fraternity brothers, though, we pretty much know all their is to know about each other."
"You just said you didn't discuss your schooling."
He smirked. "Unspoken rules, my dear."
Bessie nodded, praying for a subject change. The last person she wanted to discuss tonight was Billy Connors and she was afraid to know what more the campus could possibly know about his situation. What if they knew about Zac? What if they were ready to pound him like Billy and Lawrence Baker seemed to be? Was she literally standing in the lion's den, eating delicious cake and enjoying conversation with the enemy? Having lunch with Billy and conversing with him was bad enough. These athletes were nothing but trouble. She felt like every time she found herself near one, she was betraying Zac more and more.
Her expression must have reflected her thoughts because Robert cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. "What's the matter, doll face? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"No," she said, shaking her head slowly.
"Say, where are you from, anyway? Are you from Tulsa like Millie Jennings? I saw you walk in with her."
"She's my cousin," she whispered.
"Ah," Robert concluded with his signature, lady-killer grin. "Beauty must run rampant in your family, then. I gotta admit, though...you don't seem a thing like Millie. Quite the opposite, actually."
"We, um, we have our differences," she admitted.
"Clearly." Then his smile widened. "Hey, then you must know my chum, Billy Connors! He's the law student with the injury I was referring to."
"I gathered..."
Suddenly, a look of concert took over his face. "Is that--is that a sore subject for you? Is he an ex boyfriend of yours or something?"
Bessie shook her head rigorously, desperate to make sure that Robert did not mistake the message that she was not and never would be Billy Connors's ex anything. Instead, she blurted, "I have a beau."
He looked as if he'd taken a blow to the chest all of a sudden, his eyes darting around the porch beneath them in a mixture of shame and heartbreak. "Oh. Oh, I...why, I never asked, did I? My apologies."
Holding her chin up high, she cleared her throat and went for it, choosing to just lay it right out on the table for him. If it created a problem all the way from Oklahoma City--or Norman or wherever they were--then Bessie would just have to suck it up and be a nurse with Millie and Judith. After all, there could never be too many nurses.
"I have a beau and I love him. Deeply. And we're going to get married someday. But he wants me to go to school first because he wants what's best for me and he values and respects my passion for art. Billy Connors, however, doesn't respect anyone or anything but himself--and because of that, my beau is the reason that Billy won't be playing ball with you this year. I'd offer my sincerest apologies on my beau's behalf, except that I don't apologize for it because Billy is a disrespectful oaf who made the mistake of calling me a dumb broad when I wouldn't allow him to drive me home while intoxicated. Simply put, he got what was coming to him. Ever since, he has done nothing but make trouble for my beau and my beau never did anything to hurt anyone--except break a few of Billy's ribs in my honor. If you want to throw me out of this party, I understand. And if I've just committed what my dear cousin would call social suicide, then so be it. But I love my beau. And I will stand by him one hundred percent against anybody, no matter how big they are. And make no mistake--my beau is not a small man. He is twice the size of Billy Connors and Billy didn't know who he was dealing with when he decided to pick on me. But truth be told, I didn't come here to speak ill of anyone. I only believe in the hard facts."
Now it was Robert's turn to look stunned. His jaw hung open, his eyes were saucers, and his body leaned slightly forward as he absorbed everything she'd just said. She blinked at him in nervous anticipation, unsure of what kind of reaction she would get out of him. He was a large boy, after all. He could have picked her up and thrown her clear into the neighbor's yard if he wanted to. He could be fuming mad, destroying everything in his path in a rampage or he could curse her and cuss her and cut her down with words no person should ever hear in their lives. He could threaten Zac, he could get word back to Billy and Lawrence in Tulsa and Zac might never live through his homecoming. Bessie didn't know. And now she was beginning to regret ever opening her big mouth.
She was surprised, however, when his face softened a little and he rubbed his chin in thought. "Your beau...is quite literally...the luckiest man alive."
"He-he is?" She stammered.
"Look, whatever you have going on with back home with Billy is between you. All of you. I only know Billy on campus and life is different here. But for your man to have a girl like you--a beautiful girl who is intelligent and unique, a caring girl who will stick up for him and fight for him and support him no matter what--with as much fire and passion as you have--why, that makes him the envy of every red-blooded male in the world. Myself, included. Young women like you don't just appear every day, you know."
The truth was, Bessie didn't know. She didn't know anything. She only knew Zac. She only knew the way he made her feel. She only knew his touch, his kiss, his embrace, and their tree. She only knew Shakespeare and astronomy and card tricks and trick flowers. She knew wildflowers. She knew love, and only Zac's love, and there was nothing else she ever needed to know.
"I'm not going to say anything to Billy or anybody," Robert assured her quietly. "Okay? Your secret's safe with me. Because, frankly, it's none of my business or anybody else's. But I want you to know that when you come to school, you have a friend in me. You can talk to me, say hi if we see each other between classes, maybe eat together in the cafeteria sometimes, anything. And I'll respect your boundaries, don't you worry. There's no...none of that 'social suicide' here. Not from these lips, anyway."
Bessie's knees turned to jelly with relief and she thanked him for his kindness and understanding. The last thing she needed was for her college life to start out complicated and awkward. It was also nice to know that she would know someone when she came to school, someone who shared her love of cake and popcorn and, despite being an athlete, could carry on an intelligent conversation. Knowing she already had a friend was a comfort.
But why did he have to be a boy? And why did Zac have to be so far away? The pain in her heart was returning with a vengeance just in time for Millie to stumble through the back door, juggling three cups of beer and passing them out to Robert and Bessie.
Ah, good ol' Millie. Bessie accepted the cup and chugged it until it was half empty to an audience of two pairs of wide eyes. Bessie didn't care. She was glad for the distraction and she was determined to make this college visit fun.
By cup number three, however, Bessie couldn't stop giggling and belching as Millie dragged her hurriedly across campus.