PEACE BE WITH YOU
BESSIE AWOKE WITH sunlight in her eyes, despite the shade being drawn the previous night. All around her, the room was dim, still, and quiet and she rose amidst the rumpled bed-linens still left over from a night of lovemaking. She didn’t remember tossing and turning very much in her sleep and Zac’s arm still lay heavy, draped across her stomach.
She took a look around the room as her eyes slowly blinked the sleep away, and a smile trickled across her lips at the memory of the night before. The perfect date with the perfect man with the absolute most deliciously perfect ending. If she had been asked three—or even two and a half—months ago if she thought she would ever find herself in such a moment, she probably would have replied with a stricken, bewildered expression. Before Zac, she had known next to nothing about men or relationships or even…lovemaking. But now loving him came so easily and so naturally, she could barely remember the short time ago when she was so naïve. In the past two months, she had done so much growing and so much loving, it was as if she had quite literally stepped out of one body and into another. It was surreal and it was exhilarating and it was…
It was getting really late.
Now more alert, Bessie whipped her head to and fro, searching for any sort of time piece. When her eyes couldn’t seem to land on a clock, she scrambled carelessly across Zac’s limp body as she snatched his pocket watch off of the table beside him. It was only when she heard him murmur and felt him stir underneath her that she realized that her knee was digging in between his bare shoulder blades.
“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry,” she breathed hastily as she darted away from him. “Did I hurt you?”
“Last I checked, reverse cowgirl didn’t quite work that way,” he grumbled.
Bessie stared at him blankly. “Reverse what?”
“Never mind.” Letting out a breath, he lifted his torso off of the mattress and ran his hand through his hair. For a split-second Bessie forgot how to breathe, but the air quickly returned when he opened his mouth to speak. “Good morning, by the way. What’s gotten into you?”
“The time!” She blurted, the pocket watch still clutched in her palm. Then she shoved it in his face to the point where his eyes crossed to see it. “Six thirty-six! The sun’s up! We should have been out of here at least half an hour ago!”
But he seemed to be in no hurry to move as he crumpled the quilt against his waist. “I’m pretty sure a wakeup call wasn’t part of our check-in last night…”
“Well, it should have been. If you weren’t so busy trying to show up the concierge, we might have gotten to request one!”
“Look,” he snapped all of a sudden. “I don’t know what’s going on here, I don’t know if maybe I didn’t do you right last night or something, but how ‘bout you start making some sense instead of biting my head off first thing in the morning?”
Bessie’s jaw dropped as his tone stung her directly in the chest. “Last night was perfect,” she whispered.
“And, yet, here we are,” he sneered.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed as she realized her mistake. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear it. But, Zac, it’s Sunday and we’ve been here much too long. We have to leave. Now.”
“So what if it’s Sunday,” he scoffed. “The lord says it’s the Sabbath day, the day of rest. Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“We’ll be in eternal rest if I don’t make it home in time to come down to breakfast from my bedroom!”
Now it was Zac’s turn to look bewildered. “It’s Sunday…”
“Yes,” she rushed. “And I have to be at the breakfast table at eight o’clock sharp so that we can be at the church by nine. It’s going to take at least an hour to get back to Tulsa and if I can make it up the ladder and into my bedroom without my daddy noticing me, it’ll be a Sunday miracle!”
“Shit,” Zac breathed as they both darted from the bed and anxiously dressed themselves from their suitcases. “We’re probably going to drive straight into a trap. I bet we don’t even make it into Tulsa. I bet he’s got search parties everywhere. Guns, dogs, smoke cans, the whole lot of it!”
“No, he doesn’t,” she muttered as she yanked a pair of stockings out of her case. “He trusts me enough not to wait up on me anymore. But if he finds out I didn’t come home last night, it’s curtains!”
The pair rushed around the room and got dressed in silence for a few minutes before Zac halted and turned to face her. “Why do you have to be at church at nine? I thought service started at ten?”
Bessie never stopped her rushing as she fluffed her hair in the mirror. “You don’t even go to church; how do you know what time it starts?”
“Bess, the whole town knows what time church starts. Those bells are so loud, all of Oklahoma probably knows what time that church starts.”
With no time to be embarrassed by the obvious, she turned around to retrieve her church shoes from her suitcase. “Because Mama sings in the choir and they have to be there early to warm up.”
“Just your mama?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you sing in the choir?”
“Because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” she breathed as she buckled her shoes. “Now put your shoes on, let’s go! Are you packed?”
“Yeah,” he replied listlessly. “So what are you and your daddy doing while your mama’s with the choir?”
“I don’t know,” she breathed, exasperated. “We pray. It’s church. There’s a lot of praying.”
“For an hour?”
“Sometimes Daddy chats up the priest and the deacon some, but yeah. Mostly praying.”
Bessie ran circles around Zac as he stood there in thought. “The deacon and the priest? Are you Catholic?”
“Episcopalian.”
“I always assumed you were Baptist.”
Snapping her suitcase shut with a loud click, she darted up and bore her eyes pleadingly into his. “The bells, Zachary! You knew about the bells!”
He cocked is head in curiosity. “Don’t all churches have bells?”
“No! It’s nearly seven, can we talk about this in the car?”
Finally, they were in the car and on the road. Bessie’s heart raced. It was as if the car wasn’t moving fast enough, though Zac assured her that they were going at the absolute top speed of sixty-five miles per hour. “If this car overheats and keels over, Ike will kill me.”
“At least you’ll be blessed by the lord beforehand so you know you’ll be going to heaven.”
“Church makes you very anxious, doesn’t it?”
“No. My daddy makes me anxious. Keeping the privilege to see you makes me anxious. The idea of not being sent off to school early as punishment makes me anxious.”
“I’m assuming that the reason we need to discuss your schooling is because you’ve decided not to go.”
“That’s true, yes. But my daddy doesn’t know that, yet. If I were a cat with nine lives, then I’m probably down to my last two. Between this morning and the day I break the news to him that I won’t be attending the University of Oklahoma, I’ll have spent my last two and I’ll be chasing mice in kitty heaven soon enough!”
Glancing at her with a smirk, he arched a playful eyebrow. “At least you’ll be blessed by the lord beforehand so you know you’ll be going to kitty heaven.”
And, at that, Bessie couldn’t be anxious anymore. Sliding her hand into his free one, she forced herself to relax and allow Zac to drive them home.
* * *
Hours later, into the early onset of dusk, heavy storm clouds loomed in gray and silver overhead. Bessie sat on Zac’s knee at the tiny table in the tiny kitchen of the Hanson brothers’ travel trailer across from Isaac and Judith. The two pairs of them surrounded a deck of cards and a pitcher of her mother’s “honest” lemonade. Turned out that Isaac and Judith had just sworn themselves off of alcohol not twenty-four hours earlier and, Bessie had to admit, she was slightly disappointed. A stormy night indoors with a deck of cards sounded like the perfect excuse for a little sauce.
At the same time, however, she was glad to hear about their new pact. It was something that she felt could benefit Judith greatly. She’d had a difficult upbringing and decision-making had never quite been her forte. Giving up speakeasies and liquor had been one of the best decisions Judith had made in a long time.
And speaking of giving up speakeasies and liquor, Bessie and Zac had even met up with Judith and Isaac at church that morning. The couples were equally surprised to see each other, and delighted the same, and they all sat together in the same pew. It was such an event to see two Hanson brothers there, in fact, that the priest even felt the need to commend the presence of “so many youths” in attendance that morning. Bessie wasn’t sure that Zac and Isaac were necessarily considered youths anymore, but she accepted the notion, nonetheless. The church’s immediate acceptance of the brothers caused Bessie’s heart to swell with pride and taking her communion next to Zac made her feel things she had never felt before.
They would be married in this church and they would take communion together as husband and wife. Bessie prayed harder than she ever prayed before.
Now, though. Now the two couples sipped lemonade in laughter as Bessie and Zac recalled their tumultuous morning. Bessie had made it through her window in record time and had just been late enough for her mother to come poking her head in as Bessie sat on the bed and ripped her stockings off of her legs. She had ripped them clamoring up the ladder, but to her mother’s knowledge, Bessie had just noticed the run after putting them on. She was proud of herself for the convincing ruse and she prayed for forgiveness the entire journey down the stairs. Breakfast went off without a hitch and Zac met them at the church at nine o’clock sharp.
Poor Zac was so nervous and fidgety the entire morning. Bessie helped him, guiding him through the service, and assured him that both the program and the books took him straight through it if only he would calm down and pay attention. By the time communion was through, his nerves seemed to calm a little and she knew the tiny sip of wine was what had done it. “When you start coming every Sunday, you’ll know it like the back of your hand.”
Zac had pulled on his collar anxiously. “Every Sunday?”
Bessie had simply nodded and turned her attention back to her bible.
Following the morning’s mass was a luncheon in the fellowship hall downstairs that Bessie had forgotten was set to occur. Zac rarely spoke to anyone while Isaac spent the afternoon schmoozing with the congregation. He barely ate and practically begged Bessie for another round of communion. “I can do that part, easy,” Zac whispered to her. “When can we do that again?”
“Next Sunday, you lush,” Bessie had giggled. “Now stop being such a worry wart and come and meet the priest.”
Bessie thought Zac might faint.
Presently, everything was calm and normal and the two couples were laughing the afternoon away. It was when Taylor burst through the trailer door that the laughing ceased and tension filled the air.
THE SMALL DOOR to the wagon creaked open and Aishe poked her head out of it. Taylor ignored the distant rolling of the thunder and the threatening blow of the breeze as he remained mesmerized by the glow of the low lamp light behind her that surrounded her and brought out the natural shine in her raven hair.
He found himself blushing at her beauty as he revealed the small flower bouquet from behind his back, extending his arm and presenting the peace offering to her. He expected her to smile and melt right into his arms and maybe kiss him and tell him how much she loved him. Instead, she snatched the bouquet out of his hand, tight-lipped, and said, "Thank you. Tonight is not a good night."
He pursed his lips and his eyes deadened. “We’re still doing this?”
"Tonight is not a good night," she repeated.
Taylor was in disbelief as his heart pounded with rage. "Aishe, I'm your fiancée. Every night is a good night--!”
"I am sorry. Come back tomorrow."
And with that, the door creaked closed right in his face.
Taylor stumbled backward off the wooden steps, devastated and confused, and then turned on his heel and stormed in long strides back to his own trailer. That woman. That damned, stubborn, strong-willed, independent woman. And damn the way he loved her.
Walking into the trailer, he found Zac and Bessie and Isaac and Judith sitting at the small dining table, surrounding a pitcher of lemonade and a deck of cards. Date night, it appeared. Sometimes Taylor wondered why he couldn't have fallen for an easy, uncomplicated type of woman. One who didn't keep all her emotions pent up and who didn't mysteriously slam doors in the face of the man she’d agreed to marry. Sometimes, maybe, he would like to participate in date nights with his brothers with his lady love sitting happily upon his knee. But instead, he was in love with a gypsy. A dark, beautiful, mysterious gypsy. And, truth be told, he wouldn't have her any other way.
The uproarious laughter had ceased once Taylor walked in and was replaced with expressions of curiosity and concern. Annoyed, he breathed a sigh and plopped down onto his bench, removing his cap and running a hand through his hair. The continued silence only aggravated him more and he finally glared at his family and snapped, "Did I intrude on something?"
"Um," Isaac stammered as he struggled to find the words. "We just, uh, weren't expecting to see you..."
"Yes, well. Apparently, my bride-to-be is currently indisposed. Can't be bothered by her future husband. Just carry on with your game, pretend I'm not here."
"Want us to deal you in?" Isaac offered.
"No," Taylor said. "I think I'm just going to sit here for a minute."
Seconds later, he nearly jumped several feet off of his seat as a clap of thunder rattled the entire trailer and, subsequently, knocked out what little electricity there was to be had on the campground. Once he was settled and his heart rate was back to normal, voices could barely be heard over the pounding of the rain outside the windows.
The storm having ended the game, the two couples made their way back into the small living space and the five of them sat around in the dark and talked and told stories from the brothers’ recent trip up north. Taylor was finally starting to calm and have a good time, trying to forget about Aishe and her odd behavior. After an hour or so, when the sun finally went down and the heavy rain was reduced to a calm, steady fall, he was beginning to doze off when a blood-curdling scream suddenly rang out throughout the camp and right into Taylor's ears.
He didn't stop long enough to try to figure out where it was coming from. He leapt from his seat and cleared at least two pieces of furniture, clamoring out the door and sprinting through the slick mud and grass toward Aishe's wagon. He was barely aware of his brothers and their women following behind as the screaming only grew louder as he neared the wagon. Flying up the steps and hurling the small door open, he ducked inside and then he stood there, deafened and speechless at the sight before him.
On a small table in the middle of the room, a small gypsy woman--one he had never seen before--lay across it in a dirty, white gown, fists clenched, and her legs in the air at the end. She was very pregnant and obviously very much in pain as she squeezed her eyes shut and let out yet another blood-curdling scream. The shock only froze him longer as he watched his fiancée calmly make her way purposefully around the room, her wheelchair-bound grandmother assisting her as best as she could, with wet rags, dry towels, and another soaked towel that was instantly shoved between the mystery woman's teeth.
Aishe glanced at him, not showing any surprise at his appearance and finally, Taylor found the means to speak. "Aishe. What the hell is going on here?"
"My cousin," she said with purpose as she worked. "She journeyed a very long way to see me. She's having a baby and she's very sick. She knows she probably won't be here much longer and she wanted to have her baby here, with her family."
Taylor's jaw dropped as he looked over the pregnant woman once again. "Much longer? How sick is she, how much longer does she--?"
"Probably not through the night."
He couldn't explain what he felt at the moment as he watched his fiancée tend to her dying cousin with strength and purpose. She treated it as if she'd done this a thousand times, as if what was happening right in front of her didn't affect her. He didn't know if he should be appalled at her behavior or if he should be proud of her strength.
And then, all of a sudden, looking into her grandmother's eyes and watching her pass wet cloths to her granddaughter, a burst of confidence soared through his body at the very moment his eyes landed on Aishe's kid brothers, huddled into a corner, looking on in fear. Turning around, he purposely eyed Judith, who was peeking her head in the door, and he pointed at the boys. "Get them out of here," he demanded of her. "Take them back to the trailer. If they have to spend the night, they can sleep in my bed. Where's Bessie? Bessie, get in here and hold this woman's hand."
"No," Zac said from outside. "She's never been through any of this before—“
But Bessie was already pushing past Taylor and making her way straight for the woman as Judith was leading the boys out the door. Isaac followed the trio and Zac stepped inside the wagon, nudging his brother in the arm. "What the hell is going on?" Zac whispered.
"Aishe's cousin is having a baby. And she's dying."
"What?"
But by this time, Zac's presence was no longer important. Taylor was already crossing the room toward Aishe. "Tell me what to do."
She turned and she looked up at him, eyes wide. "You want to help?"
"I love you. And I love your entire family. I'll do anything, just tell me what to do."
"We have to deliver," she said quietly. "Quickly."
Taylor's throat closed up momentarily and he found it difficult to swallow. "Um, okay..."
"Go and clean your hands. Then take a dry towel and bring scissors. You must hurry."
In a daze, Taylor crossed the room and washed his hands in a bowl of water that sat on a small table next to Aishe's grandmother. Then, without a word, the old woman handed him a towel, a small blanket, and a pair of small scissors and nodded solemnly toward Aishe. His heart pounding a mile a minute, he nearly floated across the room and met his fiancée at the other end of the table where her cousin's legs were spread--
Taylor had never seen so much blood and he began to grow light-headed at the sight. Above them, Bessie held the woman's hand and tried her best to comfort her, dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth as the woman bit down hard on the one between her teeth. Then, without warning, Aishe began speaking in Romanian to the woman and the woman began to scream again.
"Get ready," she said to Taylor as she squatted down in preparation. "It's happening."
Taylor thought he wouldn't survive, himself, with what he saw happen next. Maybe this was good practice for him, he tried to convince himself, as he planned to father his own children with Aishe someday. But there was no way he thought he could ever get used to something like this. He'd decided he'd rather let the wonders of childbirth remain a mystery, but it was too late for that now. Too late when the screaming led to the crowning of the baby's head between the woman's legs and the shaking of his own knees at the sight.
After another push or two, and a bit of pulling from Aishe, the baby finally slid right out and Taylor thought he might fall on the floor right there, except that he didn't have time to entertain the idea. Aishe turned her head and exclaimed calmly, "Taylor, quickly, the towel."
Somewhere between the birth of the baby girl and Aishe's immediate cleaning of the child, the room had grown quiet beyond the baby's small cries. Standing up, she turned around and held the baby in the messy towel out to Taylor. "Here. Cut," she demanded.
"Cut?" He asked incredulously. "Cut what?"
"Cut the baby from the mother," she demanded, nodding toward the baby's stomach. "I only have two arms!"
Taylor swallowed the acid that seeped into his throat that normally preceded vomiting. "Will it hurt her?"
"No. Cut. Now."
With slight physical and moral struggle, Taylor managed to do as he was commanded. No sooner had he done so, however, that he stumbled backward and collapsed into a chair, no longer able to stay steady on his legs. This was too much. This was all too much. He had seen too much and heard too much and cut too much and just…too, too much.
He had only gotten out a breath, however, when Bessie's small voice wavered from the head of the mother. "Something's wrong," she said. She looked around wide-eyed at everyone and then at Aishe. "Aishe, something's wrong..."
"Bessie, come here," Zac demanded quietly.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I can't leave her, something's wrong--"
"Bessie," he said more firmly. "The baby is born. There's nothing more you can do."
"Zac--"
"Bessie."
With a quickness, Aishe turned around and bent over, depositing the baby into the clean blanket Taylor still held onto, and lay her in his arms. "Here, hold the baby. Hold her head, hold her close."
"Aishe, I--"
"You want to help, you are helping. My cousin is dead; I must tend to her body."
Bessie dropped the woman's hand as it fell limp and she gasped in horror. Turning around and crossing the room to bury her face in Zac's chest, Taylor fought to stay calm as he held the now quiet baby in his arms. He had never been more nervous or more afraid in his entire life as he watched Aishe clean and prepare the body, performing a quick, silent ritual over it before covering it with a sheet.
He swallowed hard as his instincts and his emotions began to take over, his breathing still heavy from the excitement. Looking down at the small, sleeping bundle, running a finger over her thick, dark hair, it dawned on him that he now held an orphan in his arms. No child deserved to be born like this, to be born into these conditions, to be merely seconds old with a future more uncertain than his own. Looking down at the tiny infant girl's sleeping face, an emotion he'd never felt before suddenly washed over him as he ran a finger over her soft cheek, and he knew what he must do. Looking up at his fiancée, he said quietly, "Aishe, this baby--"
"Is now mine to take care of. She wanted me to take care of it when she passed. Did not know it would be so fast, but. It is my baby now."
"It is a her," he corrected her. "And this is not your baby. It is our baby now."
She turned her head and she looked at him, her eyes wide. "Our baby?" She asked incredulously.
"Yes. Our baby. Look, I understand that you've spent most of your life taking care of your family and being the primary breadwinner and all here. I get that. But I'm about to become your husband and what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours and everything we go through in life, from now on, we go through together. This little girl needs a mother and a father. And we're going to be married soon, anyway, so I'm going to become her father regardless. Might as well start now."
Aishe only stared at him, but while he was on a roll, he decided he wasn't finished. "And your brothers? They need a father figure, too. And while we're on the subject, after we're married, we're getting a house."
"A house? A house is not possible--"
"I know a guy in New York City who wants to be my agent. He wants to turn my photographs into a book. He thinks it will be a huge success and the advance on it alone will be enough to get us into a small house. We have a baby now, Aishe. And babies need milk. And medical care. And so do your brothers and your grandmother, and they all need a stable home. As long as I am your husband, I am going to take care of you and your--our—entire family. So, tomorrow, I'm going to find a way to phone the guy and see what we can do about getting this book thing started. Your grandmother is too old to travel anymore, and these children need a stable home to grow up in. And you? Sweetheart? You need a break. You really just need a break. And that, my dear, is how it's going to be. Are we clear?"
Aishe glared at him, tossing down the cloth she held in her hand. "You never told me about any agent in New York City--"
"You never gave me the chance. All you did was let me in when you saw fit. Well, not anymore. From here on out, no secrets, no mysteries. And, darling, there's a dead body on the table. Can we finish talking about this later?"
And that was the day that Taylor Hanson became the patriarch of a family of six.
BESSIE AWOKE WITH sunlight in her eyes, despite the shade being drawn the previous night. All around her, the room was dim, still, and quiet and she rose amidst the rumpled bed-linens still left over from a night of lovemaking. She didn’t remember tossing and turning very much in her sleep and Zac’s arm still lay heavy, draped across her stomach.
She took a look around the room as her eyes slowly blinked the sleep away, and a smile trickled across her lips at the memory of the night before. The perfect date with the perfect man with the absolute most deliciously perfect ending. If she had been asked three—or even two and a half—months ago if she thought she would ever find herself in such a moment, she probably would have replied with a stricken, bewildered expression. Before Zac, she had known next to nothing about men or relationships or even…lovemaking. But now loving him came so easily and so naturally, she could barely remember the short time ago when she was so naïve. In the past two months, she had done so much growing and so much loving, it was as if she had quite literally stepped out of one body and into another. It was surreal and it was exhilarating and it was…
It was getting really late.
Now more alert, Bessie whipped her head to and fro, searching for any sort of time piece. When her eyes couldn’t seem to land on a clock, she scrambled carelessly across Zac’s limp body as she snatched his pocket watch off of the table beside him. It was only when she heard him murmur and felt him stir underneath her that she realized that her knee was digging in between his bare shoulder blades.
“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry,” she breathed hastily as she darted away from him. “Did I hurt you?”
“Last I checked, reverse cowgirl didn’t quite work that way,” he grumbled.
Bessie stared at him blankly. “Reverse what?”
“Never mind.” Letting out a breath, he lifted his torso off of the mattress and ran his hand through his hair. For a split-second Bessie forgot how to breathe, but the air quickly returned when he opened his mouth to speak. “Good morning, by the way. What’s gotten into you?”
“The time!” She blurted, the pocket watch still clutched in her palm. Then she shoved it in his face to the point where his eyes crossed to see it. “Six thirty-six! The sun’s up! We should have been out of here at least half an hour ago!”
But he seemed to be in no hurry to move as he crumpled the quilt against his waist. “I’m pretty sure a wakeup call wasn’t part of our check-in last night…”
“Well, it should have been. If you weren’t so busy trying to show up the concierge, we might have gotten to request one!”
“Look,” he snapped all of a sudden. “I don’t know what’s going on here, I don’t know if maybe I didn’t do you right last night or something, but how ‘bout you start making some sense instead of biting my head off first thing in the morning?”
Bessie’s jaw dropped as his tone stung her directly in the chest. “Last night was perfect,” she whispered.
“And, yet, here we are,” he sneered.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed as she realized her mistake. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear it. But, Zac, it’s Sunday and we’ve been here much too long. We have to leave. Now.”
“So what if it’s Sunday,” he scoffed. “The lord says it’s the Sabbath day, the day of rest. Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“We’ll be in eternal rest if I don’t make it home in time to come down to breakfast from my bedroom!”
Now it was Zac’s turn to look bewildered. “It’s Sunday…”
“Yes,” she rushed. “And I have to be at the breakfast table at eight o’clock sharp so that we can be at the church by nine. It’s going to take at least an hour to get back to Tulsa and if I can make it up the ladder and into my bedroom without my daddy noticing me, it’ll be a Sunday miracle!”
“Shit,” Zac breathed as they both darted from the bed and anxiously dressed themselves from their suitcases. “We’re probably going to drive straight into a trap. I bet we don’t even make it into Tulsa. I bet he’s got search parties everywhere. Guns, dogs, smoke cans, the whole lot of it!”
“No, he doesn’t,” she muttered as she yanked a pair of stockings out of her case. “He trusts me enough not to wait up on me anymore. But if he finds out I didn’t come home last night, it’s curtains!”
The pair rushed around the room and got dressed in silence for a few minutes before Zac halted and turned to face her. “Why do you have to be at church at nine? I thought service started at ten?”
Bessie never stopped her rushing as she fluffed her hair in the mirror. “You don’t even go to church; how do you know what time it starts?”
“Bess, the whole town knows what time church starts. Those bells are so loud, all of Oklahoma probably knows what time that church starts.”
With no time to be embarrassed by the obvious, she turned around to retrieve her church shoes from her suitcase. “Because Mama sings in the choir and they have to be there early to warm up.”
“Just your mama?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you sing in the choir?”
“Because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” she breathed as she buckled her shoes. “Now put your shoes on, let’s go! Are you packed?”
“Yeah,” he replied listlessly. “So what are you and your daddy doing while your mama’s with the choir?”
“I don’t know,” she breathed, exasperated. “We pray. It’s church. There’s a lot of praying.”
“For an hour?”
“Sometimes Daddy chats up the priest and the deacon some, but yeah. Mostly praying.”
Bessie ran circles around Zac as he stood there in thought. “The deacon and the priest? Are you Catholic?”
“Episcopalian.”
“I always assumed you were Baptist.”
Snapping her suitcase shut with a loud click, she darted up and bore her eyes pleadingly into his. “The bells, Zachary! You knew about the bells!”
He cocked is head in curiosity. “Don’t all churches have bells?”
“No! It’s nearly seven, can we talk about this in the car?”
Finally, they were in the car and on the road. Bessie’s heart raced. It was as if the car wasn’t moving fast enough, though Zac assured her that they were going at the absolute top speed of sixty-five miles per hour. “If this car overheats and keels over, Ike will kill me.”
“At least you’ll be blessed by the lord beforehand so you know you’ll be going to heaven.”
“Church makes you very anxious, doesn’t it?”
“No. My daddy makes me anxious. Keeping the privilege to see you makes me anxious. The idea of not being sent off to school early as punishment makes me anxious.”
“I’m assuming that the reason we need to discuss your schooling is because you’ve decided not to go.”
“That’s true, yes. But my daddy doesn’t know that, yet. If I were a cat with nine lives, then I’m probably down to my last two. Between this morning and the day I break the news to him that I won’t be attending the University of Oklahoma, I’ll have spent my last two and I’ll be chasing mice in kitty heaven soon enough!”
Glancing at her with a smirk, he arched a playful eyebrow. “At least you’ll be blessed by the lord beforehand so you know you’ll be going to kitty heaven.”
And, at that, Bessie couldn’t be anxious anymore. Sliding her hand into his free one, she forced herself to relax and allow Zac to drive them home.
* * *
Hours later, into the early onset of dusk, heavy storm clouds loomed in gray and silver overhead. Bessie sat on Zac’s knee at the tiny table in the tiny kitchen of the Hanson brothers’ travel trailer across from Isaac and Judith. The two pairs of them surrounded a deck of cards and a pitcher of her mother’s “honest” lemonade. Turned out that Isaac and Judith had just sworn themselves off of alcohol not twenty-four hours earlier and, Bessie had to admit, she was slightly disappointed. A stormy night indoors with a deck of cards sounded like the perfect excuse for a little sauce.
At the same time, however, she was glad to hear about their new pact. It was something that she felt could benefit Judith greatly. She’d had a difficult upbringing and decision-making had never quite been her forte. Giving up speakeasies and liquor had been one of the best decisions Judith had made in a long time.
And speaking of giving up speakeasies and liquor, Bessie and Zac had even met up with Judith and Isaac at church that morning. The couples were equally surprised to see each other, and delighted the same, and they all sat together in the same pew. It was such an event to see two Hanson brothers there, in fact, that the priest even felt the need to commend the presence of “so many youths” in attendance that morning. Bessie wasn’t sure that Zac and Isaac were necessarily considered youths anymore, but she accepted the notion, nonetheless. The church’s immediate acceptance of the brothers caused Bessie’s heart to swell with pride and taking her communion next to Zac made her feel things she had never felt before.
They would be married in this church and they would take communion together as husband and wife. Bessie prayed harder than she ever prayed before.
Now, though. Now the two couples sipped lemonade in laughter as Bessie and Zac recalled their tumultuous morning. Bessie had made it through her window in record time and had just been late enough for her mother to come poking her head in as Bessie sat on the bed and ripped her stockings off of her legs. She had ripped them clamoring up the ladder, but to her mother’s knowledge, Bessie had just noticed the run after putting them on. She was proud of herself for the convincing ruse and she prayed for forgiveness the entire journey down the stairs. Breakfast went off without a hitch and Zac met them at the church at nine o’clock sharp.
Poor Zac was so nervous and fidgety the entire morning. Bessie helped him, guiding him through the service, and assured him that both the program and the books took him straight through it if only he would calm down and pay attention. By the time communion was through, his nerves seemed to calm a little and she knew the tiny sip of wine was what had done it. “When you start coming every Sunday, you’ll know it like the back of your hand.”
Zac had pulled on his collar anxiously. “Every Sunday?”
Bessie had simply nodded and turned her attention back to her bible.
Following the morning’s mass was a luncheon in the fellowship hall downstairs that Bessie had forgotten was set to occur. Zac rarely spoke to anyone while Isaac spent the afternoon schmoozing with the congregation. He barely ate and practically begged Bessie for another round of communion. “I can do that part, easy,” Zac whispered to her. “When can we do that again?”
“Next Sunday, you lush,” Bessie had giggled. “Now stop being such a worry wart and come and meet the priest.”
Bessie thought Zac might faint.
Presently, everything was calm and normal and the two couples were laughing the afternoon away. It was when Taylor burst through the trailer door that the laughing ceased and tension filled the air.
THE SMALL DOOR to the wagon creaked open and Aishe poked her head out of it. Taylor ignored the distant rolling of the thunder and the threatening blow of the breeze as he remained mesmerized by the glow of the low lamp light behind her that surrounded her and brought out the natural shine in her raven hair.
He found himself blushing at her beauty as he revealed the small flower bouquet from behind his back, extending his arm and presenting the peace offering to her. He expected her to smile and melt right into his arms and maybe kiss him and tell him how much she loved him. Instead, she snatched the bouquet out of his hand, tight-lipped, and said, "Thank you. Tonight is not a good night."
He pursed his lips and his eyes deadened. “We’re still doing this?”
"Tonight is not a good night," she repeated.
Taylor was in disbelief as his heart pounded with rage. "Aishe, I'm your fiancée. Every night is a good night--!”
"I am sorry. Come back tomorrow."
And with that, the door creaked closed right in his face.
Taylor stumbled backward off the wooden steps, devastated and confused, and then turned on his heel and stormed in long strides back to his own trailer. That woman. That damned, stubborn, strong-willed, independent woman. And damn the way he loved her.
Walking into the trailer, he found Zac and Bessie and Isaac and Judith sitting at the small dining table, surrounding a pitcher of lemonade and a deck of cards. Date night, it appeared. Sometimes Taylor wondered why he couldn't have fallen for an easy, uncomplicated type of woman. One who didn't keep all her emotions pent up and who didn't mysteriously slam doors in the face of the man she’d agreed to marry. Sometimes, maybe, he would like to participate in date nights with his brothers with his lady love sitting happily upon his knee. But instead, he was in love with a gypsy. A dark, beautiful, mysterious gypsy. And, truth be told, he wouldn't have her any other way.
The uproarious laughter had ceased once Taylor walked in and was replaced with expressions of curiosity and concern. Annoyed, he breathed a sigh and plopped down onto his bench, removing his cap and running a hand through his hair. The continued silence only aggravated him more and he finally glared at his family and snapped, "Did I intrude on something?"
"Um," Isaac stammered as he struggled to find the words. "We just, uh, weren't expecting to see you..."
"Yes, well. Apparently, my bride-to-be is currently indisposed. Can't be bothered by her future husband. Just carry on with your game, pretend I'm not here."
"Want us to deal you in?" Isaac offered.
"No," Taylor said. "I think I'm just going to sit here for a minute."
Seconds later, he nearly jumped several feet off of his seat as a clap of thunder rattled the entire trailer and, subsequently, knocked out what little electricity there was to be had on the campground. Once he was settled and his heart rate was back to normal, voices could barely be heard over the pounding of the rain outside the windows.
The storm having ended the game, the two couples made their way back into the small living space and the five of them sat around in the dark and talked and told stories from the brothers’ recent trip up north. Taylor was finally starting to calm and have a good time, trying to forget about Aishe and her odd behavior. After an hour or so, when the sun finally went down and the heavy rain was reduced to a calm, steady fall, he was beginning to doze off when a blood-curdling scream suddenly rang out throughout the camp and right into Taylor's ears.
He didn't stop long enough to try to figure out where it was coming from. He leapt from his seat and cleared at least two pieces of furniture, clamoring out the door and sprinting through the slick mud and grass toward Aishe's wagon. He was barely aware of his brothers and their women following behind as the screaming only grew louder as he neared the wagon. Flying up the steps and hurling the small door open, he ducked inside and then he stood there, deafened and speechless at the sight before him.
On a small table in the middle of the room, a small gypsy woman--one he had never seen before--lay across it in a dirty, white gown, fists clenched, and her legs in the air at the end. She was very pregnant and obviously very much in pain as she squeezed her eyes shut and let out yet another blood-curdling scream. The shock only froze him longer as he watched his fiancée calmly make her way purposefully around the room, her wheelchair-bound grandmother assisting her as best as she could, with wet rags, dry towels, and another soaked towel that was instantly shoved between the mystery woman's teeth.
Aishe glanced at him, not showing any surprise at his appearance and finally, Taylor found the means to speak. "Aishe. What the hell is going on here?"
"My cousin," she said with purpose as she worked. "She journeyed a very long way to see me. She's having a baby and she's very sick. She knows she probably won't be here much longer and she wanted to have her baby here, with her family."
Taylor's jaw dropped as he looked over the pregnant woman once again. "Much longer? How sick is she, how much longer does she--?"
"Probably not through the night."
He couldn't explain what he felt at the moment as he watched his fiancée tend to her dying cousin with strength and purpose. She treated it as if she'd done this a thousand times, as if what was happening right in front of her didn't affect her. He didn't know if he should be appalled at her behavior or if he should be proud of her strength.
And then, all of a sudden, looking into her grandmother's eyes and watching her pass wet cloths to her granddaughter, a burst of confidence soared through his body at the very moment his eyes landed on Aishe's kid brothers, huddled into a corner, looking on in fear. Turning around, he purposely eyed Judith, who was peeking her head in the door, and he pointed at the boys. "Get them out of here," he demanded of her. "Take them back to the trailer. If they have to spend the night, they can sleep in my bed. Where's Bessie? Bessie, get in here and hold this woman's hand."
"No," Zac said from outside. "She's never been through any of this before—“
But Bessie was already pushing past Taylor and making her way straight for the woman as Judith was leading the boys out the door. Isaac followed the trio and Zac stepped inside the wagon, nudging his brother in the arm. "What the hell is going on?" Zac whispered.
"Aishe's cousin is having a baby. And she's dying."
"What?"
But by this time, Zac's presence was no longer important. Taylor was already crossing the room toward Aishe. "Tell me what to do."
She turned and she looked up at him, eyes wide. "You want to help?"
"I love you. And I love your entire family. I'll do anything, just tell me what to do."
"We have to deliver," she said quietly. "Quickly."
Taylor's throat closed up momentarily and he found it difficult to swallow. "Um, okay..."
"Go and clean your hands. Then take a dry towel and bring scissors. You must hurry."
In a daze, Taylor crossed the room and washed his hands in a bowl of water that sat on a small table next to Aishe's grandmother. Then, without a word, the old woman handed him a towel, a small blanket, and a pair of small scissors and nodded solemnly toward Aishe. His heart pounding a mile a minute, he nearly floated across the room and met his fiancée at the other end of the table where her cousin's legs were spread--
Taylor had never seen so much blood and he began to grow light-headed at the sight. Above them, Bessie held the woman's hand and tried her best to comfort her, dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth as the woman bit down hard on the one between her teeth. Then, without warning, Aishe began speaking in Romanian to the woman and the woman began to scream again.
"Get ready," she said to Taylor as she squatted down in preparation. "It's happening."
Taylor thought he wouldn't survive, himself, with what he saw happen next. Maybe this was good practice for him, he tried to convince himself, as he planned to father his own children with Aishe someday. But there was no way he thought he could ever get used to something like this. He'd decided he'd rather let the wonders of childbirth remain a mystery, but it was too late for that now. Too late when the screaming led to the crowning of the baby's head between the woman's legs and the shaking of his own knees at the sight.
After another push or two, and a bit of pulling from Aishe, the baby finally slid right out and Taylor thought he might fall on the floor right there, except that he didn't have time to entertain the idea. Aishe turned her head and exclaimed calmly, "Taylor, quickly, the towel."
Somewhere between the birth of the baby girl and Aishe's immediate cleaning of the child, the room had grown quiet beyond the baby's small cries. Standing up, she turned around and held the baby in the messy towel out to Taylor. "Here. Cut," she demanded.
"Cut?" He asked incredulously. "Cut what?"
"Cut the baby from the mother," she demanded, nodding toward the baby's stomach. "I only have two arms!"
Taylor swallowed the acid that seeped into his throat that normally preceded vomiting. "Will it hurt her?"
"No. Cut. Now."
With slight physical and moral struggle, Taylor managed to do as he was commanded. No sooner had he done so, however, that he stumbled backward and collapsed into a chair, no longer able to stay steady on his legs. This was too much. This was all too much. He had seen too much and heard too much and cut too much and just…too, too much.
He had only gotten out a breath, however, when Bessie's small voice wavered from the head of the mother. "Something's wrong," she said. She looked around wide-eyed at everyone and then at Aishe. "Aishe, something's wrong..."
"Bessie, come here," Zac demanded quietly.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I can't leave her, something's wrong--"
"Bessie," he said more firmly. "The baby is born. There's nothing more you can do."
"Zac--"
"Bessie."
With a quickness, Aishe turned around and bent over, depositing the baby into the clean blanket Taylor still held onto, and lay her in his arms. "Here, hold the baby. Hold her head, hold her close."
"Aishe, I--"
"You want to help, you are helping. My cousin is dead; I must tend to her body."
Bessie dropped the woman's hand as it fell limp and she gasped in horror. Turning around and crossing the room to bury her face in Zac's chest, Taylor fought to stay calm as he held the now quiet baby in his arms. He had never been more nervous or more afraid in his entire life as he watched Aishe clean and prepare the body, performing a quick, silent ritual over it before covering it with a sheet.
He swallowed hard as his instincts and his emotions began to take over, his breathing still heavy from the excitement. Looking down at the small, sleeping bundle, running a finger over her thick, dark hair, it dawned on him that he now held an orphan in his arms. No child deserved to be born like this, to be born into these conditions, to be merely seconds old with a future more uncertain than his own. Looking down at the tiny infant girl's sleeping face, an emotion he'd never felt before suddenly washed over him as he ran a finger over her soft cheek, and he knew what he must do. Looking up at his fiancée, he said quietly, "Aishe, this baby--"
"Is now mine to take care of. She wanted me to take care of it when she passed. Did not know it would be so fast, but. It is my baby now."
"It is a her," he corrected her. "And this is not your baby. It is our baby now."
She turned her head and she looked at him, her eyes wide. "Our baby?" She asked incredulously.
"Yes. Our baby. Look, I understand that you've spent most of your life taking care of your family and being the primary breadwinner and all here. I get that. But I'm about to become your husband and what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours and everything we go through in life, from now on, we go through together. This little girl needs a mother and a father. And we're going to be married soon, anyway, so I'm going to become her father regardless. Might as well start now."
Aishe only stared at him, but while he was on a roll, he decided he wasn't finished. "And your brothers? They need a father figure, too. And while we're on the subject, after we're married, we're getting a house."
"A house? A house is not possible--"
"I know a guy in New York City who wants to be my agent. He wants to turn my photographs into a book. He thinks it will be a huge success and the advance on it alone will be enough to get us into a small house. We have a baby now, Aishe. And babies need milk. And medical care. And so do your brothers and your grandmother, and they all need a stable home. As long as I am your husband, I am going to take care of you and your--our—entire family. So, tomorrow, I'm going to find a way to phone the guy and see what we can do about getting this book thing started. Your grandmother is too old to travel anymore, and these children need a stable home to grow up in. And you? Sweetheart? You need a break. You really just need a break. And that, my dear, is how it's going to be. Are we clear?"
Aishe glared at him, tossing down the cloth she held in her hand. "You never told me about any agent in New York City--"
"You never gave me the chance. All you did was let me in when you saw fit. Well, not anymore. From here on out, no secrets, no mysteries. And, darling, there's a dead body on the table. Can we finish talking about this later?"
And that was the day that Taylor Hanson became the patriarch of a family of six.