UNDER PRESSURE
ZAC
ARE YOU COMING HOME QUERY PLEASE RESPOND IMMEDIATELY STOP
LOVE
BESSIE
ZAC STARED AT the telegram in his hand. This was different than any telegram Bessie had ever sent him. Different and terrifying. There were no terms of endearment, no great professions of love or reassurance, nothing like her other telegrams had been. It had been a simple question, requesting an immediate response. A question that rattled his nerves and shook him to his core. ‘Are you coming home?’ she’d asked. Not ‘When are you coming home?’ but ‘Are you coming home?’
It was almost as if she knew. But how?
And why, pray tell, was she asking in the first place?
But she’d requested an immediate response and, with no time to visit the Western Union office, he’d phoned it in from the telephone at the hotel’s front desk.
BESSIE MY LOVE
I AM COMING HOME STOP ONLY THE TIME FRAME MIGHT BE SLIGHTLY OFF FROM WHEN I TOLD YOU I WOULD BE HOME STOP SOMETHING HAS COME UP HERE IN NYC STOP BUT I MADE PROMISES TO YOU THAT I INTEND TO KEEP STOP PLEASE TRUST ME MY LOVE AND TRUST THAT I WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING TO HURT OR BETRAY YOU STOP PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME STOP WE HAVE SOME THINGS TO DISCUSS AND I WILL TELEPHONE YOU AS SOON AS I HAVE THE DETAILS STOP PLEASE MY SWEET GIRL I NEED YOUR SUPPORT STOP DON’T LOSE FAITH IN ME STOP
MY LOVE FOREVER
ZAC
TAYLOR SAT IN a desk chair by the window and gaped at his brothers. “Stop yanking my chain!”
“Not yanking a thing,” Isaac smiled with a shake of his head.
Zac remained tight-lipped. He watched Taylor’s excitement grow. He watched the grin take over his face and he watched as he jumped up and tucked his feet up under his backside in elation, as if he was just…ready to take the leap. Because, apparently, he was. Taylor had been born ready, that was no real secret. And, once upon a time, Zac thought he was, too. He was just as devoted to this act as his brothers were. Until about a month ago, it seemed. When his life was completely taken off course and put onto another one. For the first time in his life, Zac had to think of someone else before he made any rash decisions. Before every move he made, he had to think twice. He had to hesitate, he had to weigh out his options. It wasn’t all about him anymore.
But…what if it was? He literally had everything he owned at his fingertips. He could carry on with life in New York without a care in the world. He never had to look back. He could live on as the same bachelor he always had, right there in the Mahoney Theatre. Before long, Bessie wouldn’t miss him anymore. She would go off to school, find herself a football star who came from a rich family, and she would have the life she deserved—the life Zac knew he couldn’t give her. She would be happy, she would be healthy, and she would be a wonderful wife and mother to the lucky bastard who go to wed her. Bessie would be fine without Zac. In fact, she would be much better off.
But would Zac be happy?
Absolutely not. He would be miserable. He could see it now. Without Bessie, Zac wouldn’t survive himself. He’d spend his nights sitting drunk in the gutters of New York, waking up in filth and mud, and would probably end up killing Taylor during the knife-throwing act as he struggled with a never-ending hangover. He would go to prison for murder, Isaac would disown him, and Bessie would never write or visit, not even as a friend. Zac would be alone, forever alone, and he would die in prison a hollow, lonely old man, if he even lived that long.
The realization was plain as the nose on his face. Zac very literally could not live without Bessie Harlow. It wasn’t an option.
“Zac,” Isaac’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Zac looked up and over at his eldest brother, who sat puffing on a pipe at the desk by the hotel room’s window. Only when Zac was brought back to the present that the sweet tobacco smoke that wafted around the room filled Zac’s lungs and he found himself silently inhaling, wishing he had a smoke of his own. “Are you okay? You haven’t said much.”
Zac took his eyes off of Isaac and drifted them across the room at Taylor, whose face began to fall and he slowly started sinking himself back into his chair. At this point, he knew they were all thinking the same thing. He could practically hear Taylor’s heart breaking.
“I made promises,” Zac said flatly, clearing his throat. “Promises that I intend to keep. If, uh, if this Mahoney thing ends up panning out, I’m going back to Tulsa to get her.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. “If you go back to Tulsa, you won’t ever come back to New York,” he whispered.
“She’s about to go off to school,” Isaac pointed out. “You can’t just march into town and snatch her up like that. You’ll be arrested before you even cross the county line.”
“I will come back,” Zac assured Taylor firmly. “With Bessie. She will live with us. Or she and I will find our own apartment or something, whatever it takes.” Then he looked at Isaac. “As far as her schooling goes, screw it. If we make it big, I’ll be more than able to afford to send her to school here and then some. I’m not worried about any bullshit university in Oklahoma. Bessie loves art. And there’s a world of opportunity for her here, much more than there is in that old, dusty state. And, yeah, her old man’s gonna have a problem with it. But what can he do? Bessie is old enough to make her own decisions. And she loves me. Should I propose to her first?”
Isaac dropped his head and massaged the bridge of his nose. Letting out a breath, he looked back up at his brother, exhaustion plaguing his brown eyes. “Can we not just do this one step at a time? Tay and I have girls back home, too. Okay? Right now we’re just looking at a trial period. A week or two tops should do it, I assume. Another week or two won’t hurt anything. I say we just ride that out and then see where things go from there.”
“Yeah, but Bessie is mere weeks from leaving Tulsa—“
“So you want to bring her back to New York based on a maybe?” Isaac shot back. “Is that the kind of future you want for her?”
Zac sucked in a breath and wiped his palms on his pants. Isaac was right. If Zac wanted both is career and his girl, he would have to play the game. It would hurt like hell, but he had to do what it took. The Incredible Hansons had a chance again. And with times as hard as they were and futures as bleak as the brothers’ were, they had to take it. They had to.
“I told her I would telephone her as soon as we had details. I can’t tell her something like this over a telegram. I know it will be expensive, but—“
“Whatever it is you have to do,” Taylor interjected with surprising sincerity.
Zac opened his mouth and then closed it. This was the part where he brought up Aishe. Taylor’s fiancée. Why didn’t he ever talk about her? Why wasn’t he reserving the first seat next to Zac to run back to Tulsa and retrieve her? Was he even still engaged to her at all? Was he just going to leave her like that?
He had gotten himself riled up enough to open his mouth when Isaac spoke first. “So who was the guy from today?” He asked Taylor.
“Does it even matter anymore?” Taylor exclaimed. “We’re hitting the bigtime again! The Incredible Hansons are back!”
“Okay,” Isaac nodded in a businesslike manner. “So then it’s settled. I call Mr. Goldstein in the morning and let him know we’re ready to discuss a contract?”
“Why, you’d better get on it!” Taylor encouraged him. “We only have two more shows left in this theatre!”
“Zac?” Isaac addressed him.
Zac nodded. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Yeah, give him the go-ahead.”
‘Are you coming home? Please respond immediately.’
‘Are you coming home?’
‘Am I coming home? Respond immediately.’
‘Am I?’
AS BESSIE CLUTCHED Zac’s last telegram in her hand, her feet felt like lead against the concrete. She hadn’t simply called in her telegram from home. She opted to, instead, go straight to the Western Union office herself so that she didn’t have to wait in agony for Zac’s reply to reach her front door.
The exchange between her and Billy in Sue’s driveway recently had been weighing heavy on Bessie’s mind. Before Zac, she had never been the object of anyone’s affections before. Nobody ever told her she was pretty, nobody ever gazed longingly into her eyes, nothing of that sort had ever happened. So it threw her for a loop when Billy was so adamant about his feelings for her. Except that she was devoted to Zac. Hopelessly in love and forever devoted and, yet…Billy’s words rang loud in her ears over and over again.
‘If a man loved a woman as much as you say he loves you, would he really choose to leave her the way he left you? He didn’t even take you into consideration as he packed his bags, did he?’
He had already started packing before he even uttered the first word to her. As a matter of fact, she had to come to him. He hadn’t even come to see her or anything.
Was it possible that Billy could be right, after all? That Zac wasn’t really coming home?
The thought kept her awake at night. Even with Scout curled up in the bed with her, sleep wouldn’t come to her. Instead, she tossed and turned with worry and concern. Her heart yearned to be wrapped up in Zac’s arms once again, yet the fear she felt overwhelmed her. Now that she had this telegram in her hand, the one saying that he would not be home when he said he was going to be and that what he needed to tell her required a telephone call, she fought to stand amidst that walls that crashed down around her. Simply placing one foot in front of the other nearly required an act of God.
Bessie had never felt so alone. Who could she turn to in this moment? Joey was barely coming around anymore. Judith was just as scarce these days. Millie was probably wherever Joey was, and Billy…well, Billy would be too pleased as punch to hear any of these concerns and Bessie didn’t need any of that. No, Bessie needed someone close. She needed the comfort of someone who could relate to her. She needed someone she could pour her heart out to, someone who--
Aishe!
Nobody could relate more than Aishe could. After all, she was engaged to be wed to Zac’s brother. Furthermore, according to one of Zac’s letters, Aishe doesn’t read English, so it was assumed that Taylor hadn’t written her anything. Had he communicated with her at all? How must she have been feeling this entire time? What Bessie felt was horrible. Bessie should have visited with Aishe. Aishe may have needed her. After all, she and Bessie would be sisters-in-law soon enough, wouldn’t they? Bessie hadn’t been a very good sister this past month.
With her mind made up, Bessie folded up the telegram and shoved it in her purse. Hopping off the curb, she got into the old, spare Ford that her father allowed her to drive, and she drove straight out of town and straight onto the gypsy camp.
As Bessie pulled the old Ford through the trees, she gasped as she brought the car to a stop. She hadn’t been to the gypsy camp since Zac left and the large void that the absent trailer left was like a spear right through her heart.
For a moment she could only stare at the gap on the campground. None of the gypsies had moved or settled there. It remained a large, dirt-filled lot, lonely and empty, void of all signs of life. The patch of land reflected much of what Bessie’s heart had been feeling like for nearly a month now: desolate and hollow. It was difficult to sit there and look at the emptiness; to sit and reminisce about the way she and Zac would sit in each other’s arms and read books on rainy days or the time when she tried gypsy food for the first time. God, she missed him. She missed them all.
Now that the trailer was gone, the wagon that Aishe lived in with her family was in full view. It was an old, wooden wagon whose wheels disappeared halfway into the earth and was surrounded by the overgrowth of grass. It was a red-painted wagon, the paint worn and chipped due to wear and tear as it had been stationary for the past several years. It resembled a circus wagon, with a yellow border around the wooden roof, and yellow and blue intricate designs painted all over it. Its rectangular shape resembled that of the Hansons’ travel trailer but, unlike the trailer, the wagon’s front door was located at the end of it as opposed to the side of it. A small set of wooden stairs had been built for easier access and it was apparent that Aishe and her family had intended to stay there for a very extended amount of time for as permanent as the dwelling appeared to be. After all, with the earth growing up around the wagon’s wheels, Bessie determined that the vehicle sure wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, and besides, where would they even get the horses to pull it?
It was a beautiful old wagon, worn as it was, and Bessie often wondered what it must be like to live in such a dwelling in such close quarters with your grandmother and kid brothers. She decided that Aishe probably got very little privacy, if any, and Bessie couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for her. Every woman, regardless of race or religion or cultural values, deserved a little privacy once in awhile. Maybe that was something Bessie would run by Taylor before he and Aishe were married. He would be good to her. He would make sure that she would have the privacy a lady needed to do the things that ladies needed the solitude to do.
That was, if Bessie ever saw him again.
Immediately reminded of the disturbing telegram, Bessie stepped out of her car. She was careful to walk around the Hansons’ empty lot and not over it, as if walking over their tiny patch of land could be construed as an act of disrespect, similar to walking over one’s grave. What a disturbing analogy, she thought to herself.
As she approached the wagon, Aishe’s kid brothers were playing outside of it several feet away. Their names were Danior and Nicolae, but Bessie knew them better as Dan and Nick, mostly because Taylor decided that shortening their names made it easier for him to say them. The nicknames stuck and the boys didn’t seem to mind, and so Bessie smiled as she grew closer. “Hello, Dan. Hello, Nick.”
“Bessie!” They greeted her excitedly as they ran up to her, a boy on either side of her, as they threw their dirty arms around her waist. They appeared as if they hadn’t bathed in days and their clothes had uncharacteristic holes all over them. Their unkempt appearances were most definitely not the norm, seeing as Aishe took excellent care of her brothers and she was an expert laundress. She would never allow the boys to run around with torn and dirty clothes.
Bessie found immediate reason for concern.
“Boys,” Bessie said to them. “Is your sister home?”
Nick nodded up at her. “She’s inside.”
“How is your grandmother?”
“Good,” Dan said simply.
Well, that was a relief, at least. The family was all accounted for.
“Has Aishe been busy lately?” She asked curiously.
Now Dan nodded, his black hair falling into his dark eyes. “Our cousin is here.”
“Your cousin?”
“Right inside,” Nick said. “You can go in. Just be quiet. That’s why we’re outside.”
Nodding in thought toward the wagon, Bessie hesitantly let go of the boys before she tiptoed to the front door. Just be quiet, huh? They had a cousin visiting? Could this cousin be the reason why the boys looked so disheveled? Was it a male cousin? Did gypsies marry their cousins? Dear Lord, had Aishe given up on Taylor, after all?
Bessie’s heart sat heavily in her stomach as she carefully walked up the small steps. The loose, wooden door hung wide open, but Bessie knocked lightly on the frame before barging in, despite the invitation she’d already gotten from the little men of the household. It took Aishe less than two seconds to appear in the doorway, looking startlingly as disheveled as her brothers did.
Through her frazzled expression, however, Aishe smiled. “Dita, Bessie. A surprise to see you.”
It took Bessie a moment to get her bearings, having forgotten for a split second that Aishe spoke differently than she did. It made Bessie feel bad, as it proved that she hadn’t spent near the time here that she should have in the brothers’ absence. She should have been far more used to the gypsies and their ways by now.
“Yes,” Bessie smiled sheepishly. Then she remembered her manners and nodded her head shyly. “Hello. I didn’t mean to disturb you—“
“No disturb,” Aishe continued to smile. “Please come inside.”
Bessie only realized then that she’d never been inside Aishe’s family’s wagon before. The farthest she’d been were the front steps with Taylor and, even then, Bessie couldn’t see inside, nor had she been trying to. Now, though, she hadn’t realized how curious she’d been until she stood in the tiny room now.
For a tiny space, they certainly knew how to make the most of it. The wagon had no electricity and was only lit by sunlight through the doors and windows and a couple of lanterns that sat on a small counter and a small table. Across from Bessie, at the end of the wagon, was a small bed that was obviously meant to hold two very small bodies, and another bed that had been built above it, bunk style, that, based on the beautiful linens that covered it, served as Aishe’s bed. Along the wall, perpendicular to the bunk beds, was another small bed, as narrow as the benches in the Hansons’ travel trailer, that was obviously Aishe’s grandmother’s bed. Along the opposite wall were built-in cabinets and shelves, and under the window was a small table. Tucked into a couple of corners were small chairs, one of which it appeared that the old woman had taken up permanent residence in as she sat there with a blanket over her legs, smiling at Bessie with her kind eyes and nearly empty mouth. The family had no stove and no refrigeration unit, doing all of their cooking over a campfire, but what little they did own was very strategically packed away out of sight or intended for multiple use. Bessie decided she could learn a lot from the gypsies. After all, what if she ended up living in a trailer with Zac someday? She would need all the tips she could get.
What caught Bessie’s eye, however, was the very large woman that in a chair by the table, her feet propped up on a stack of flour sacks, no way of knowing if they actually held flour or not. By large, though, obese wasn’t the correct description. No, this woman was pregnant. Very, very pregnant, but still as strikingly beautiful as Aishe, with her long, flowing dark locks that fell on the shoulders of the loose, white gown she wore. The woman breathed heavily as she sat there, looking miserable as the sweat glistened her face. Listlessly, she looked at Aishe and asked in a strained half-whisper, “Rakli?”
“Bori.”
“Keck,” the woman shook her head adamantly. “Keck—“ she paused to breathe. “Keck tumnimos. Gajo!”
Bessie looked on, bewildered. She didn’t know what captivated her the most: the language the women spoke to each other in, or the struggle the pregnant woman had to go through to get the words out at all. At that moment, Bessie had it all figured out. This cousin had apparently been here for more than just a few days, and Aishe was taking care of her. And it was taking a lot out of Aishe and her family was suffering for it in the process. Bessie’s heart went out to the both of them.
At last, Aishe directed an exasperated glance at the woman—her cousin—and she shook her head and smiled at Bessie. “That is Nadya. She is my…how do you say…cousin? She does not approve that I marry Taylor. He is not Romani.”
“But you love him,” Bessie objected.
“That, I do,” Aishe replied with a nod.
“So, then, that’s all that matters.”
“Ah, but Romani culture is very different.”
“Love is universal,” Bessie snapped.
Aishe giggled lightly. “But I am on your side, dear friend. Please sit.”
As invited, Bessie sat herself on a small, wooden chair at the tiny wooden table, and Aishe took the empty seat across from her. Resting her arms on the table, Aishe continued to smile. “So. You visit. It has been awhile.”
“Yes,” Bessie’s face fell in shame. “It has and I’m sorry. It’s just that…Zac’s absence has been so difficult for me. And then I came here today and I saw the empty space where the trailer used to be and…oh, Aishe, I’ve been so selfish. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for you to look out the window or walk outside each day.”
Aishe nodded, her dark, exotic eyes calm and collected. “I do miss him,” she admitted quietly. “I miss him every time he goes away. But he always returns.”
“And you have faith that he will return every time?”
Aishe grinned again. “Of course. This is home.”
“Yes, but—“
How did she tell her? How did Bessie tell Aishe what she knew, that there was a possibility that they wouldn’t come home? She would be so devastated to hear it, after believing that Taylor would come home after all this time. Was it even Bessie’s place to say anything?
Yes. Yes, it was. Someone had to keep Aishe informed.
“Yes, but?” Aishe gently prodded.
“I received a telegram from Zac today. One that said…that said that they’re going to be staying in New York a little longer than they expected. He said that we had things to discuss, things he couldn’t say in a telegram. He’s going to telephone me.” Finally, she locked eyes with the gypsy girl. “Oh, Aishe. I’m terrified that they might not ever return.”
For the first time, a flicker of fear flashed across Aishe’s face. Aishe, who was always so reserved and certain, for once, displayed a hint of doubt. Bessie wanted to reach out and hug her, if only she was certain if gypsies actually did that. So, instead, she sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “Have you heard from Taylor at all?”
Aishe glanced down at her hands uneasily and Bessie swore she saw them tremble. Choosing not to break down, however, Aishe lifted her chin confidently. “He is working. I will wait for him to come home.”
“But, Aishe,” Bessie whispered. “What if he doesn’t?”
“I do not choose to marry a man who is insincere. I trust Taylor. He will come home.”
“Don’t you miss him?”
Aishe’s eyes glistened. “All of the days.”
“Then how do you do it?” Bessie asked anxiously. “How do you pass the time? How do you keep from going absolutely mad?”
“I have family,” she said simply. “He works there, I work here.” Then she lowered her voice. “And Nadya—she is very, very sick. She come here with other family. They move on, but Nadya—too sick to continue. She will have baby. It is my job to see she is healthy to give birth. I am the only one.”
Bessie’s eyes widened in an excitement she fought to suppress. “There’s going to be a baby? Soon?”
Aishe nodded.
Bessie loved babies. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been around many pregnant women or babies to know anything about pregnancy or birth. She just knew that the thought of a brand new baby excited her. “I could help with the baby,” she volunteered.
Aishe smiled. “Soon.”
“I’ll come here every day and help you,” Bessie vowed. “I should have been helping you all along.”
“It is not your trouble.”
“You’re going to be my sister-in-law! We’re practically already family! And so what if I’m not…Romani? Neither is Taylor and you’re marrying him.”
Aishe laughed lightly in amusement. “I do not care about Romani. You may help if you wish. But do not forget your own family. They need you.”
“Not as much as you do.”
“Do not be so sure.”
Bessie nodded, swallowing hard. “All right, then. I don’t know when Zac will be telephoning me, but as soon as he does, I’ll come right back here with the news. I can stay for a little bit today and help with the boys. Where are your thread and needles? Those clothes are atrocious and they need to find a wash bin in a hurry.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Bessie tended to Aishe’s brothers, happy to lift any sort of weight off of the young gypsy’s shoulders. It was a comfort to spend the afternoon with them and eye-opening as Aishe further explained what it was like to be a traveling gypsy. She hadn’t heard from Taylor since they’d left, but it was mere trust and understanding that got gypsies through the times away from their families like that. If anyone understood the brothers’ need to go away and travel for work, it was Aishe, and she respected them for it. And, so, she didn’t mourn and pine for Taylor the way Bessie did for Zac. Aishe’s longing centered around faith and trust and she had no choice but to continue with her life and take care of her family until Taylor returned, however long that may be.
Bessie could have learned a lot from Aishe. She just wished she’d visited sooner. For now, though, she mended and washed dirty children’s clothes, while the boys happily ran naked around the camp like heathen savages. Neither of which they were, but Bessie could only shake her head along with Aishe. Boys would be boys.
ZAC SAT BY the telephone in the hotel lobby and he stared at it. In the luxurious comfort of the upholstered, green, velvet armchair, underneath an extravagant crystal chandelier, Zac sat staring up at the telephone booth along the wall with his hands hanging from his knees.
His fingers were laced together, his shoulders slumped, sweat beading across his brow and upper lip. He’d gone over this in his head all day long now. The last show with Barney Harper’s troupe was tonight at the Manhattan Royale and the brothers had signed a contract to start work at the Mahoney Theatre in two days. This wasn’t a conversation Zac could have with Bessie over a telegram. Hell, he damn near couldn’t have it with her over the telephone. Given the distance and the price, he would have to choose his words wisely. He would have to be efficient and thorough.
But, most importantly, he couldn’t break.
Bessie was a smart, young woman. Strong. Supportive. Understanding. She would be a little upset, naturally. But, in the end, she would still trust him. She would still love him. She would still wait for him.
Wouldn’t she?
Finally, taking a deep breath, he stood and he walked over to the telephone that glared at him from the wall.
He stood there, the horn attached to his ear, the connection taking centuries. This time Zac didn’t call collect. This time he had the call charged to the hotel room’s bill. This virtually meant that he could talk to Bessie for as long as he pleased, but he knew that the reality was much different from the fantasy.
At least this time he was calling her at a much more suitable hour.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon in Tulsa, an hour behind New York City, and Zac longed to know what Bessie did with her days anymore. He knew that if he was home, the pair of them would be wrapped up in each other under their tree at this time of the day. The memory caused a smile to form across his lips.
The nostalgia was short-lived, however, when a male voice came through the receiver. “Zachary, I presume,” Judge Harlow answered. “I notice it isn’t a collect call.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir,” Zac stammered. “Please, Judge Harlow. Is Bessie available?”
“She is,” the judge replied. Zac thought he could detect a coolness in the judge’s tone amidst the questionable connection and Zac couldn’t say he blamed him. After all, if a man had called and woken his daughter in the middle of the night and upset her, Zac wouldn’t be pleased to hear from him, either.
“Please, Judge Harlow. May I speak to her? It’s important.”
Moments later, Bessie’s sweet voice came garbled through the phone. “Zac?”
And, just like that, he lost every ounce of strength he had mustered. “Oh, Bessie,” he breathed helplessly. “It’s so good to hear your voice, sweet girl. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Do you still love me?” He asked her. “Please tell me you still love me.”
“Of course I love you. I will always love you.”
The relief nearly turned Zac’s legs to jelly and he smiled. “I love you, too, sweet girl. I love you so much.”
“Zac, I’m scared,” she said suddenly.
His eyes widened in alarm and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He straightened his spine. “Scared of what?” He asked firmly. “Is someone hurting you?”
“No,” she replied. “It’s just that, according to your schedule, you should be packing up to come home. I’m supposed to see you in a few short days. But instead I kept getting this—this feeling and then when you answered my telegram the way you did—“
“Is that what that telegram was about?” He asked. “A hunch?”
“Yes. And it appears that I was right. And I—I can’t lose you, Zac. I just can’t.”
“Bessie, listen to me,” he replied, ready to get down to business. “You will never lose me, do you understand? Now I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it. Do you remember? When you were so convinced that New York would want to keep us and I was so convinced that they wouldn’t?”
“Yes…”
“Well, it happened, Bess. We signed a contract with the Mahoney Theatre, one of the hardest theatres to get into, and they approached us to headline. We’re on a probationary period, of course, but that’s all a formality. I just need a couple of weeks for the three of us to get settled in the city and then I’m coming to Tulsa to get you—just like I promised.”
“Oh, Zac. Do you mean it?”
“With all my heart.”
“We have so much to discuss--!”
“Now I don’t want you to worry about college. With the money I’ll be making, I can support us both and send you to the best schools in New York. Real art schools, sweet girl! Can’t you just imagine it?”
“So—so in two weeks--?’
“At least. At the most. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way so that you have time to pack your belongings.”
“Zac, this is so sudden! I don’t know how I’m going to—“
Zac’s annoyance was growing rapidly. He barely had time to have this conversation as it was and now she was hesitating? “Bessie, do you love me or not?” He barked firmly.
“Of course I love you!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem, I just—I mean, my parents—“
Finally, Zac’s heart softened and he felt horrible for snapping. She would be leaving her family. Leaving her home. And all for the first time. She must have been terrified.
“Oh, Bessie,” he said gently. “I know this must be new…and frightening for you. And—and if you decide you need a little more time, I understand. It’s a lot to take on, I know. But I want you to know that the fact that you’re willing to leave your home to start a life with me in a world that is…that’s practically unknown to you shows what a strong, remarkable woman you are. And I love you, Bessie. I love you so much it hurts. I just wish I could be there to help you and to comfort you. I promise that I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe. And we’ll be together, always.”
Zac wasn’t sure if it was the static in the connection or if he heard Bessie sniffling, but he guessed that it was probably the latter. “I’m not afraid,” she replied with a quiver in her voice. “I love you and I trust in you completely. It’s just that—that when I tell my—“
“Then don’t,” he cut her off.
“Don’t?”
“Don’t tell your parents until I can be by your side. I will hold your hand and I will be with you. I can’t ask you to move away with me and then leave you to do it all on your own. We will tell your parents together. Don’t you worry.”
“I love you, Zac. I miss you so much.”
“I love you, too. And we’ll be together very soon, I promise it.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too, baby. More than you’ll ever know. I have to hang up now, I’ve been on this call for way too long.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry! I didn’t think--!”
“It’s okay. I’ll continue to write and I’ll telegram you soon. Bye, my sweet girl.”
“Zac, wait!”
“Yes?”
“What about Scout?”
Zac curled his lip up in a snarl. The mongrel. “We’ll bring him along, as well.”
“Oh, thank you, my darling!” She replied excitedly.
Zac grinned like a lovesick loon at the endearing term. She could bring every street mutt in Tulsa if her heart was set on it. Zac would be happy the entire way as long as she was happy.
Hanging up the receiver, Zac turned around to face the rest of the lobby and he took in a long, refreshing breath of air into his lungs. Two weeks. Two weeks and a plan. In two weeks, he will have saved a little more money, asked for a few days off to drive to Tulsa and retrieve his girl, and then he would bring her back to the city and get her settled. Two short weeks, he would start the rest of his life with the girl he loved.
For the first time in a month, Zac was on Cloud Nine and there was absolutely nothing that could bring him down.
IT WAS A bittersweet night. The Incredible Hansons had just performed their last show with Barney Harper’s traveling troupe and while Barney was taking the rest of the acts and heading for the next city, the Hanson brothers were remaining in New York. Taylor had spent much of the past week in disbelief, he had to admit. Between the meetings he was having with his new friend and the brand new contract they had just inked with Harvey Goldstein, Taylor felt like he was on top of the world. Things were finally picking back up for him and his brothers. No longer were they destitute and futureless or calling themselves by a false name. The Mystical Hanson Brothers—bah! Why had they even had to change their name to begin with? Because they were ashamed of themselves for failing? That was ridiculous. Looking back now, Taylor was seeing all sorts of things they should have done differently that would have kept them from living the past three years stationary in a travel trailer. Why, if they had played their cards right to begin with, they could have spent the past three years continuing to eat from silver spoons in New York City while everyone else walked to the unemployment lines in their dirty rags!
Well, that was unfair. Even Taylor was ashamed of himself for allowing that thought to cross his mind. After all, he had been on both sides of the fence now. He’d eaten from silver spoons and been a firsthand victim of having everything unexpectedly torn from his hands. It wasn’t a good feeling, not knowing where the next meal was or what he might wake up to the next morning. Living a life of bleakness and uncertainty was no way for anyone to live.
But now he had been offered a way to redeem himself, in more ways than one, and Taylor was ecstatic. He always knew there was ample opportunity in New York City, if only he could find the means to get there. He couldn’t have been more grateful to Barney Harper for the invite on this tour and for the headlining spot he had offered them. Despite the few bumps they’d encountered along the way, the money had been much more than he’d expected and he was more than pleased at the cash that lined his pockets and filled up the coffee cans and cigar boxes that were stashed and hidden all over the travel trailer.
Tonight, the festivities were in full swing along the fifth floor of the Plaza Hotel. After sets and props had been torn down and packed away, the troupe spent their last night in the city winding down and celebrating one last time together. Liquor ran rampant with nobody caring to report it and there was plenty of smoke to be had in various forms. Taylor had found himself in a packed suite and whom it belonged to, he decided he would never know. In the moment it didn’t matter, anyway. A Victrola played upbeat jazz in the corner and a smoky haze covered the air as laughter rang in his ears. He had lost track of his brothers awhile ago and he stood in a doorway, having a rousing conversation with Climbin’ Claude about the do’s and do-not’s of carnival travel.
All around them was dancing and laughter and conversation so loud that Taylor and Claude nearly had to raise their voices to hear each other. One sound, though, one so distinct that it practically stopped time for Taylor, rang out above the rest: “What the hell did you do to your hair, sweet girl?”
Furrowing his brow at Claude, Taylor whipped around and his eyes widened in horror. Across the room, in front of a window, Zac sat in a chair with a glass of brown liquid in his right hand and Dot Harper resting happily on his left knee.
“What the hell…?” Claude murmured.
Taylor’s feet felt like lead as he witnessed the exchange. His eyes darted around frantically for Isaac, but he was nowhere to be found. As he turned his attention back to their baby brother, Dot smiled and reached up to fluff her short, mousy brown bob. “Oh, you like it?” She replied. “I decided it was time for a change.”
“What the hell did she change?” Claude muttered.
Taylor backhanded his chest to shut him up.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Zac shook his head with a lazy smile as he reached up and fingered a lock of her hair. “Oh, Bessie, baby, you know you never have to change for me.”
Bessie?
Dot giggled and the sound sickened Taylor. “Oh, so you decided to call me Bessie after all. That’s okay, I told you I didn’t mind. I still don’t.”
“He’s three sheets to the fucking wind!” Claude squeaked.
And he was. Zac had to be, to sit there and call another woman Bessie. Especially a woman who didn’t even hold a candle to how attractive Bessie was. Dot Harper was just bad news all the way round, which was a shame, considering that her old man was a pretty decent guy. Poor man had no idea that his daughter was screwing his entire carnival troupe when she was supposed to be keeping the books. So shameful it was. And a little disturbing.
“Of course I call you Bessie, baby,” Zac slurred, his arm tightening around Dot’s waist. “That’s your name, isn’t it? My God, I just can’t believe you’re here.”
Dot giggled again. “Well, you know that’s not really my name, but I’m more than happy to play along!”
“What?” Zac snapped, his demeanor suddenly changing on a dime.
“Oh, shit, here he goes,” Claude commentated. “Why the hell are we still standing here, anyway?”
“What the hell do you mean your name isn’t Bessie? Did you fucking change it on me or something? Decide you couldn’t wait on me, what?”
Dot was beginning to look flustered and she smoothed out her hair nervously. “Well, Zac, I—I mean, I said I was willing to play, I didn’t think you were going to, you know, take it this seriously…”
“Play what? Play with my feelings?”
“Um…um, I mean I—“
Finally, Taylor stumbled forward with a forced shove from Claude. Claude was right, why the hell was Taylor paralyzed all of a sudden? Why had he let this continue this long?
Making his way to his brother, Taylor reached out and lifted Dot off of Zac’s knee by her elbow. Taylor glared at her. “Can’t you see he’s fucking swacked? You can smell it nearly a mile away.”
Dot batted her eyes innocently at Taylor. “Well, I—I didn’t know—“
Taylor pursed his lips skeptically. “You knew. Now why don’t you go and find yourself someone else’s pants to crawl into?”
Dot gasped and stepped backward. “Well, I never--!”
“Have a nice life, Dorothy,” Taylor waved.
As Dot Harper stormed away angrily, Zac attempted to stumble to his feet. “Hey,” he slurred angrily. “What’s the big idea, she just got here! I’ve waited all month long for her!”
Catching Zac by the arm, Taylor took the drink out of Zac’s hand and rested it on a nearby table. Struggling to hold him upright, Claude darted out of nowhere and caught Zac by the opposite side. “That wasn’t Bessie, Zac,” Taylor revealed quietly. “That was Dot Harper.”
Zac’s eyes widened as if this were news to him. “What?” He hissed.
“You’re drunk,” Taylor clarified as they began to walk Zac carefully through the crowded room. “And I just saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“I was not,” Zac slurred. “I wasn’t making a mis—a sima—a mista—a steak! I was f-f-fine. Why would you say that?”
“Because,” Taylor replied bluntly. “You almost cheated on your girl.”
And that was when Zac passed out.
* * *
Dita: hello
Rakli: young, unmarried non-Roma girl
Bori: sister-in-law
Keck: no
Tumnimos: the betrothal
Gajo: adult non-gypsy
ZAC
ARE YOU COMING HOME QUERY PLEASE RESPOND IMMEDIATELY STOP
LOVE
BESSIE
ZAC STARED AT the telegram in his hand. This was different than any telegram Bessie had ever sent him. Different and terrifying. There were no terms of endearment, no great professions of love or reassurance, nothing like her other telegrams had been. It had been a simple question, requesting an immediate response. A question that rattled his nerves and shook him to his core. ‘Are you coming home?’ she’d asked. Not ‘When are you coming home?’ but ‘Are you coming home?’
It was almost as if she knew. But how?
And why, pray tell, was she asking in the first place?
But she’d requested an immediate response and, with no time to visit the Western Union office, he’d phoned it in from the telephone at the hotel’s front desk.
BESSIE MY LOVE
I AM COMING HOME STOP ONLY THE TIME FRAME MIGHT BE SLIGHTLY OFF FROM WHEN I TOLD YOU I WOULD BE HOME STOP SOMETHING HAS COME UP HERE IN NYC STOP BUT I MADE PROMISES TO YOU THAT I INTEND TO KEEP STOP PLEASE TRUST ME MY LOVE AND TRUST THAT I WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING TO HURT OR BETRAY YOU STOP PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME STOP WE HAVE SOME THINGS TO DISCUSS AND I WILL TELEPHONE YOU AS SOON AS I HAVE THE DETAILS STOP PLEASE MY SWEET GIRL I NEED YOUR SUPPORT STOP DON’T LOSE FAITH IN ME STOP
MY LOVE FOREVER
ZAC
TAYLOR SAT IN a desk chair by the window and gaped at his brothers. “Stop yanking my chain!”
“Not yanking a thing,” Isaac smiled with a shake of his head.
Zac remained tight-lipped. He watched Taylor’s excitement grow. He watched the grin take over his face and he watched as he jumped up and tucked his feet up under his backside in elation, as if he was just…ready to take the leap. Because, apparently, he was. Taylor had been born ready, that was no real secret. And, once upon a time, Zac thought he was, too. He was just as devoted to this act as his brothers were. Until about a month ago, it seemed. When his life was completely taken off course and put onto another one. For the first time in his life, Zac had to think of someone else before he made any rash decisions. Before every move he made, he had to think twice. He had to hesitate, he had to weigh out his options. It wasn’t all about him anymore.
But…what if it was? He literally had everything he owned at his fingertips. He could carry on with life in New York without a care in the world. He never had to look back. He could live on as the same bachelor he always had, right there in the Mahoney Theatre. Before long, Bessie wouldn’t miss him anymore. She would go off to school, find herself a football star who came from a rich family, and she would have the life she deserved—the life Zac knew he couldn’t give her. She would be happy, she would be healthy, and she would be a wonderful wife and mother to the lucky bastard who go to wed her. Bessie would be fine without Zac. In fact, she would be much better off.
But would Zac be happy?
Absolutely not. He would be miserable. He could see it now. Without Bessie, Zac wouldn’t survive himself. He’d spend his nights sitting drunk in the gutters of New York, waking up in filth and mud, and would probably end up killing Taylor during the knife-throwing act as he struggled with a never-ending hangover. He would go to prison for murder, Isaac would disown him, and Bessie would never write or visit, not even as a friend. Zac would be alone, forever alone, and he would die in prison a hollow, lonely old man, if he even lived that long.
The realization was plain as the nose on his face. Zac very literally could not live without Bessie Harlow. It wasn’t an option.
“Zac,” Isaac’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Zac looked up and over at his eldest brother, who sat puffing on a pipe at the desk by the hotel room’s window. Only when Zac was brought back to the present that the sweet tobacco smoke that wafted around the room filled Zac’s lungs and he found himself silently inhaling, wishing he had a smoke of his own. “Are you okay? You haven’t said much.”
Zac took his eyes off of Isaac and drifted them across the room at Taylor, whose face began to fall and he slowly started sinking himself back into his chair. At this point, he knew they were all thinking the same thing. He could practically hear Taylor’s heart breaking.
“I made promises,” Zac said flatly, clearing his throat. “Promises that I intend to keep. If, uh, if this Mahoney thing ends up panning out, I’m going back to Tulsa to get her.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. “If you go back to Tulsa, you won’t ever come back to New York,” he whispered.
“She’s about to go off to school,” Isaac pointed out. “You can’t just march into town and snatch her up like that. You’ll be arrested before you even cross the county line.”
“I will come back,” Zac assured Taylor firmly. “With Bessie. She will live with us. Or she and I will find our own apartment or something, whatever it takes.” Then he looked at Isaac. “As far as her schooling goes, screw it. If we make it big, I’ll be more than able to afford to send her to school here and then some. I’m not worried about any bullshit university in Oklahoma. Bessie loves art. And there’s a world of opportunity for her here, much more than there is in that old, dusty state. And, yeah, her old man’s gonna have a problem with it. But what can he do? Bessie is old enough to make her own decisions. And she loves me. Should I propose to her first?”
Isaac dropped his head and massaged the bridge of his nose. Letting out a breath, he looked back up at his brother, exhaustion plaguing his brown eyes. “Can we not just do this one step at a time? Tay and I have girls back home, too. Okay? Right now we’re just looking at a trial period. A week or two tops should do it, I assume. Another week or two won’t hurt anything. I say we just ride that out and then see where things go from there.”
“Yeah, but Bessie is mere weeks from leaving Tulsa—“
“So you want to bring her back to New York based on a maybe?” Isaac shot back. “Is that the kind of future you want for her?”
Zac sucked in a breath and wiped his palms on his pants. Isaac was right. If Zac wanted both is career and his girl, he would have to play the game. It would hurt like hell, but he had to do what it took. The Incredible Hansons had a chance again. And with times as hard as they were and futures as bleak as the brothers’ were, they had to take it. They had to.
“I told her I would telephone her as soon as we had details. I can’t tell her something like this over a telegram. I know it will be expensive, but—“
“Whatever it is you have to do,” Taylor interjected with surprising sincerity.
Zac opened his mouth and then closed it. This was the part where he brought up Aishe. Taylor’s fiancée. Why didn’t he ever talk about her? Why wasn’t he reserving the first seat next to Zac to run back to Tulsa and retrieve her? Was he even still engaged to her at all? Was he just going to leave her like that?
He had gotten himself riled up enough to open his mouth when Isaac spoke first. “So who was the guy from today?” He asked Taylor.
“Does it even matter anymore?” Taylor exclaimed. “We’re hitting the bigtime again! The Incredible Hansons are back!”
“Okay,” Isaac nodded in a businesslike manner. “So then it’s settled. I call Mr. Goldstein in the morning and let him know we’re ready to discuss a contract?”
“Why, you’d better get on it!” Taylor encouraged him. “We only have two more shows left in this theatre!”
“Zac?” Isaac addressed him.
Zac nodded. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Yeah, give him the go-ahead.”
‘Are you coming home? Please respond immediately.’
‘Are you coming home?’
‘Am I coming home? Respond immediately.’
‘Am I?’
AS BESSIE CLUTCHED Zac’s last telegram in her hand, her feet felt like lead against the concrete. She hadn’t simply called in her telegram from home. She opted to, instead, go straight to the Western Union office herself so that she didn’t have to wait in agony for Zac’s reply to reach her front door.
The exchange between her and Billy in Sue’s driveway recently had been weighing heavy on Bessie’s mind. Before Zac, she had never been the object of anyone’s affections before. Nobody ever told her she was pretty, nobody ever gazed longingly into her eyes, nothing of that sort had ever happened. So it threw her for a loop when Billy was so adamant about his feelings for her. Except that she was devoted to Zac. Hopelessly in love and forever devoted and, yet…Billy’s words rang loud in her ears over and over again.
‘If a man loved a woman as much as you say he loves you, would he really choose to leave her the way he left you? He didn’t even take you into consideration as he packed his bags, did he?’
He had already started packing before he even uttered the first word to her. As a matter of fact, she had to come to him. He hadn’t even come to see her or anything.
Was it possible that Billy could be right, after all? That Zac wasn’t really coming home?
The thought kept her awake at night. Even with Scout curled up in the bed with her, sleep wouldn’t come to her. Instead, she tossed and turned with worry and concern. Her heart yearned to be wrapped up in Zac’s arms once again, yet the fear she felt overwhelmed her. Now that she had this telegram in her hand, the one saying that he would not be home when he said he was going to be and that what he needed to tell her required a telephone call, she fought to stand amidst that walls that crashed down around her. Simply placing one foot in front of the other nearly required an act of God.
Bessie had never felt so alone. Who could she turn to in this moment? Joey was barely coming around anymore. Judith was just as scarce these days. Millie was probably wherever Joey was, and Billy…well, Billy would be too pleased as punch to hear any of these concerns and Bessie didn’t need any of that. No, Bessie needed someone close. She needed the comfort of someone who could relate to her. She needed someone she could pour her heart out to, someone who--
Aishe!
Nobody could relate more than Aishe could. After all, she was engaged to be wed to Zac’s brother. Furthermore, according to one of Zac’s letters, Aishe doesn’t read English, so it was assumed that Taylor hadn’t written her anything. Had he communicated with her at all? How must she have been feeling this entire time? What Bessie felt was horrible. Bessie should have visited with Aishe. Aishe may have needed her. After all, she and Bessie would be sisters-in-law soon enough, wouldn’t they? Bessie hadn’t been a very good sister this past month.
With her mind made up, Bessie folded up the telegram and shoved it in her purse. Hopping off the curb, she got into the old, spare Ford that her father allowed her to drive, and she drove straight out of town and straight onto the gypsy camp.
As Bessie pulled the old Ford through the trees, she gasped as she brought the car to a stop. She hadn’t been to the gypsy camp since Zac left and the large void that the absent trailer left was like a spear right through her heart.
For a moment she could only stare at the gap on the campground. None of the gypsies had moved or settled there. It remained a large, dirt-filled lot, lonely and empty, void of all signs of life. The patch of land reflected much of what Bessie’s heart had been feeling like for nearly a month now: desolate and hollow. It was difficult to sit there and look at the emptiness; to sit and reminisce about the way she and Zac would sit in each other’s arms and read books on rainy days or the time when she tried gypsy food for the first time. God, she missed him. She missed them all.
Now that the trailer was gone, the wagon that Aishe lived in with her family was in full view. It was an old, wooden wagon whose wheels disappeared halfway into the earth and was surrounded by the overgrowth of grass. It was a red-painted wagon, the paint worn and chipped due to wear and tear as it had been stationary for the past several years. It resembled a circus wagon, with a yellow border around the wooden roof, and yellow and blue intricate designs painted all over it. Its rectangular shape resembled that of the Hansons’ travel trailer but, unlike the trailer, the wagon’s front door was located at the end of it as opposed to the side of it. A small set of wooden stairs had been built for easier access and it was apparent that Aishe and her family had intended to stay there for a very extended amount of time for as permanent as the dwelling appeared to be. After all, with the earth growing up around the wagon’s wheels, Bessie determined that the vehicle sure wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, and besides, where would they even get the horses to pull it?
It was a beautiful old wagon, worn as it was, and Bessie often wondered what it must be like to live in such a dwelling in such close quarters with your grandmother and kid brothers. She decided that Aishe probably got very little privacy, if any, and Bessie couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for her. Every woman, regardless of race or religion or cultural values, deserved a little privacy once in awhile. Maybe that was something Bessie would run by Taylor before he and Aishe were married. He would be good to her. He would make sure that she would have the privacy a lady needed to do the things that ladies needed the solitude to do.
That was, if Bessie ever saw him again.
Immediately reminded of the disturbing telegram, Bessie stepped out of her car. She was careful to walk around the Hansons’ empty lot and not over it, as if walking over their tiny patch of land could be construed as an act of disrespect, similar to walking over one’s grave. What a disturbing analogy, she thought to herself.
As she approached the wagon, Aishe’s kid brothers were playing outside of it several feet away. Their names were Danior and Nicolae, but Bessie knew them better as Dan and Nick, mostly because Taylor decided that shortening their names made it easier for him to say them. The nicknames stuck and the boys didn’t seem to mind, and so Bessie smiled as she grew closer. “Hello, Dan. Hello, Nick.”
“Bessie!” They greeted her excitedly as they ran up to her, a boy on either side of her, as they threw their dirty arms around her waist. They appeared as if they hadn’t bathed in days and their clothes had uncharacteristic holes all over them. Their unkempt appearances were most definitely not the norm, seeing as Aishe took excellent care of her brothers and she was an expert laundress. She would never allow the boys to run around with torn and dirty clothes.
Bessie found immediate reason for concern.
“Boys,” Bessie said to them. “Is your sister home?”
Nick nodded up at her. “She’s inside.”
“How is your grandmother?”
“Good,” Dan said simply.
Well, that was a relief, at least. The family was all accounted for.
“Has Aishe been busy lately?” She asked curiously.
Now Dan nodded, his black hair falling into his dark eyes. “Our cousin is here.”
“Your cousin?”
“Right inside,” Nick said. “You can go in. Just be quiet. That’s why we’re outside.”
Nodding in thought toward the wagon, Bessie hesitantly let go of the boys before she tiptoed to the front door. Just be quiet, huh? They had a cousin visiting? Could this cousin be the reason why the boys looked so disheveled? Was it a male cousin? Did gypsies marry their cousins? Dear Lord, had Aishe given up on Taylor, after all?
Bessie’s heart sat heavily in her stomach as she carefully walked up the small steps. The loose, wooden door hung wide open, but Bessie knocked lightly on the frame before barging in, despite the invitation she’d already gotten from the little men of the household. It took Aishe less than two seconds to appear in the doorway, looking startlingly as disheveled as her brothers did.
Through her frazzled expression, however, Aishe smiled. “Dita, Bessie. A surprise to see you.”
It took Bessie a moment to get her bearings, having forgotten for a split second that Aishe spoke differently than she did. It made Bessie feel bad, as it proved that she hadn’t spent near the time here that she should have in the brothers’ absence. She should have been far more used to the gypsies and their ways by now.
“Yes,” Bessie smiled sheepishly. Then she remembered her manners and nodded her head shyly. “Hello. I didn’t mean to disturb you—“
“No disturb,” Aishe continued to smile. “Please come inside.”
Bessie only realized then that she’d never been inside Aishe’s family’s wagon before. The farthest she’d been were the front steps with Taylor and, even then, Bessie couldn’t see inside, nor had she been trying to. Now, though, she hadn’t realized how curious she’d been until she stood in the tiny room now.
For a tiny space, they certainly knew how to make the most of it. The wagon had no electricity and was only lit by sunlight through the doors and windows and a couple of lanterns that sat on a small counter and a small table. Across from Bessie, at the end of the wagon, was a small bed that was obviously meant to hold two very small bodies, and another bed that had been built above it, bunk style, that, based on the beautiful linens that covered it, served as Aishe’s bed. Along the wall, perpendicular to the bunk beds, was another small bed, as narrow as the benches in the Hansons’ travel trailer, that was obviously Aishe’s grandmother’s bed. Along the opposite wall were built-in cabinets and shelves, and under the window was a small table. Tucked into a couple of corners were small chairs, one of which it appeared that the old woman had taken up permanent residence in as she sat there with a blanket over her legs, smiling at Bessie with her kind eyes and nearly empty mouth. The family had no stove and no refrigeration unit, doing all of their cooking over a campfire, but what little they did own was very strategically packed away out of sight or intended for multiple use. Bessie decided she could learn a lot from the gypsies. After all, what if she ended up living in a trailer with Zac someday? She would need all the tips she could get.
What caught Bessie’s eye, however, was the very large woman that in a chair by the table, her feet propped up on a stack of flour sacks, no way of knowing if they actually held flour or not. By large, though, obese wasn’t the correct description. No, this woman was pregnant. Very, very pregnant, but still as strikingly beautiful as Aishe, with her long, flowing dark locks that fell on the shoulders of the loose, white gown she wore. The woman breathed heavily as she sat there, looking miserable as the sweat glistened her face. Listlessly, she looked at Aishe and asked in a strained half-whisper, “Rakli?”
“Bori.”
“Keck,” the woman shook her head adamantly. “Keck—“ she paused to breathe. “Keck tumnimos. Gajo!”
Bessie looked on, bewildered. She didn’t know what captivated her the most: the language the women spoke to each other in, or the struggle the pregnant woman had to go through to get the words out at all. At that moment, Bessie had it all figured out. This cousin had apparently been here for more than just a few days, and Aishe was taking care of her. And it was taking a lot out of Aishe and her family was suffering for it in the process. Bessie’s heart went out to the both of them.
At last, Aishe directed an exasperated glance at the woman—her cousin—and she shook her head and smiled at Bessie. “That is Nadya. She is my…how do you say…cousin? She does not approve that I marry Taylor. He is not Romani.”
“But you love him,” Bessie objected.
“That, I do,” Aishe replied with a nod.
“So, then, that’s all that matters.”
“Ah, but Romani culture is very different.”
“Love is universal,” Bessie snapped.
Aishe giggled lightly. “But I am on your side, dear friend. Please sit.”
As invited, Bessie sat herself on a small, wooden chair at the tiny wooden table, and Aishe took the empty seat across from her. Resting her arms on the table, Aishe continued to smile. “So. You visit. It has been awhile.”
“Yes,” Bessie’s face fell in shame. “It has and I’m sorry. It’s just that…Zac’s absence has been so difficult for me. And then I came here today and I saw the empty space where the trailer used to be and…oh, Aishe, I’ve been so selfish. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for you to look out the window or walk outside each day.”
Aishe nodded, her dark, exotic eyes calm and collected. “I do miss him,” she admitted quietly. “I miss him every time he goes away. But he always returns.”
“And you have faith that he will return every time?”
Aishe grinned again. “Of course. This is home.”
“Yes, but—“
How did she tell her? How did Bessie tell Aishe what she knew, that there was a possibility that they wouldn’t come home? She would be so devastated to hear it, after believing that Taylor would come home after all this time. Was it even Bessie’s place to say anything?
Yes. Yes, it was. Someone had to keep Aishe informed.
“Yes, but?” Aishe gently prodded.
“I received a telegram from Zac today. One that said…that said that they’re going to be staying in New York a little longer than they expected. He said that we had things to discuss, things he couldn’t say in a telegram. He’s going to telephone me.” Finally, she locked eyes with the gypsy girl. “Oh, Aishe. I’m terrified that they might not ever return.”
For the first time, a flicker of fear flashed across Aishe’s face. Aishe, who was always so reserved and certain, for once, displayed a hint of doubt. Bessie wanted to reach out and hug her, if only she was certain if gypsies actually did that. So, instead, she sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “Have you heard from Taylor at all?”
Aishe glanced down at her hands uneasily and Bessie swore she saw them tremble. Choosing not to break down, however, Aishe lifted her chin confidently. “He is working. I will wait for him to come home.”
“But, Aishe,” Bessie whispered. “What if he doesn’t?”
“I do not choose to marry a man who is insincere. I trust Taylor. He will come home.”
“Don’t you miss him?”
Aishe’s eyes glistened. “All of the days.”
“Then how do you do it?” Bessie asked anxiously. “How do you pass the time? How do you keep from going absolutely mad?”
“I have family,” she said simply. “He works there, I work here.” Then she lowered her voice. “And Nadya—she is very, very sick. She come here with other family. They move on, but Nadya—too sick to continue. She will have baby. It is my job to see she is healthy to give birth. I am the only one.”
Bessie’s eyes widened in an excitement she fought to suppress. “There’s going to be a baby? Soon?”
Aishe nodded.
Bessie loved babies. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been around many pregnant women or babies to know anything about pregnancy or birth. She just knew that the thought of a brand new baby excited her. “I could help with the baby,” she volunteered.
Aishe smiled. “Soon.”
“I’ll come here every day and help you,” Bessie vowed. “I should have been helping you all along.”
“It is not your trouble.”
“You’re going to be my sister-in-law! We’re practically already family! And so what if I’m not…Romani? Neither is Taylor and you’re marrying him.”
Aishe laughed lightly in amusement. “I do not care about Romani. You may help if you wish. But do not forget your own family. They need you.”
“Not as much as you do.”
“Do not be so sure.”
Bessie nodded, swallowing hard. “All right, then. I don’t know when Zac will be telephoning me, but as soon as he does, I’ll come right back here with the news. I can stay for a little bit today and help with the boys. Where are your thread and needles? Those clothes are atrocious and they need to find a wash bin in a hurry.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Bessie tended to Aishe’s brothers, happy to lift any sort of weight off of the young gypsy’s shoulders. It was a comfort to spend the afternoon with them and eye-opening as Aishe further explained what it was like to be a traveling gypsy. She hadn’t heard from Taylor since they’d left, but it was mere trust and understanding that got gypsies through the times away from their families like that. If anyone understood the brothers’ need to go away and travel for work, it was Aishe, and she respected them for it. And, so, she didn’t mourn and pine for Taylor the way Bessie did for Zac. Aishe’s longing centered around faith and trust and she had no choice but to continue with her life and take care of her family until Taylor returned, however long that may be.
Bessie could have learned a lot from Aishe. She just wished she’d visited sooner. For now, though, she mended and washed dirty children’s clothes, while the boys happily ran naked around the camp like heathen savages. Neither of which they were, but Bessie could only shake her head along with Aishe. Boys would be boys.
ZAC SAT BY the telephone in the hotel lobby and he stared at it. In the luxurious comfort of the upholstered, green, velvet armchair, underneath an extravagant crystal chandelier, Zac sat staring up at the telephone booth along the wall with his hands hanging from his knees.
His fingers were laced together, his shoulders slumped, sweat beading across his brow and upper lip. He’d gone over this in his head all day long now. The last show with Barney Harper’s troupe was tonight at the Manhattan Royale and the brothers had signed a contract to start work at the Mahoney Theatre in two days. This wasn’t a conversation Zac could have with Bessie over a telegram. Hell, he damn near couldn’t have it with her over the telephone. Given the distance and the price, he would have to choose his words wisely. He would have to be efficient and thorough.
But, most importantly, he couldn’t break.
Bessie was a smart, young woman. Strong. Supportive. Understanding. She would be a little upset, naturally. But, in the end, she would still trust him. She would still love him. She would still wait for him.
Wouldn’t she?
Finally, taking a deep breath, he stood and he walked over to the telephone that glared at him from the wall.
He stood there, the horn attached to his ear, the connection taking centuries. This time Zac didn’t call collect. This time he had the call charged to the hotel room’s bill. This virtually meant that he could talk to Bessie for as long as he pleased, but he knew that the reality was much different from the fantasy.
At least this time he was calling her at a much more suitable hour.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon in Tulsa, an hour behind New York City, and Zac longed to know what Bessie did with her days anymore. He knew that if he was home, the pair of them would be wrapped up in each other under their tree at this time of the day. The memory caused a smile to form across his lips.
The nostalgia was short-lived, however, when a male voice came through the receiver. “Zachary, I presume,” Judge Harlow answered. “I notice it isn’t a collect call.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir,” Zac stammered. “Please, Judge Harlow. Is Bessie available?”
“She is,” the judge replied. Zac thought he could detect a coolness in the judge’s tone amidst the questionable connection and Zac couldn’t say he blamed him. After all, if a man had called and woken his daughter in the middle of the night and upset her, Zac wouldn’t be pleased to hear from him, either.
“Please, Judge Harlow. May I speak to her? It’s important.”
Moments later, Bessie’s sweet voice came garbled through the phone. “Zac?”
And, just like that, he lost every ounce of strength he had mustered. “Oh, Bessie,” he breathed helplessly. “It’s so good to hear your voice, sweet girl. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Do you still love me?” He asked her. “Please tell me you still love me.”
“Of course I love you. I will always love you.”
The relief nearly turned Zac’s legs to jelly and he smiled. “I love you, too, sweet girl. I love you so much.”
“Zac, I’m scared,” she said suddenly.
His eyes widened in alarm and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He straightened his spine. “Scared of what?” He asked firmly. “Is someone hurting you?”
“No,” she replied. “It’s just that, according to your schedule, you should be packing up to come home. I’m supposed to see you in a few short days. But instead I kept getting this—this feeling and then when you answered my telegram the way you did—“
“Is that what that telegram was about?” He asked. “A hunch?”
“Yes. And it appears that I was right. And I—I can’t lose you, Zac. I just can’t.”
“Bessie, listen to me,” he replied, ready to get down to business. “You will never lose me, do you understand? Now I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it. Do you remember? When you were so convinced that New York would want to keep us and I was so convinced that they wouldn’t?”
“Yes…”
“Well, it happened, Bess. We signed a contract with the Mahoney Theatre, one of the hardest theatres to get into, and they approached us to headline. We’re on a probationary period, of course, but that’s all a formality. I just need a couple of weeks for the three of us to get settled in the city and then I’m coming to Tulsa to get you—just like I promised.”
“Oh, Zac. Do you mean it?”
“With all my heart.”
“We have so much to discuss--!”
“Now I don’t want you to worry about college. With the money I’ll be making, I can support us both and send you to the best schools in New York. Real art schools, sweet girl! Can’t you just imagine it?”
“So—so in two weeks--?’
“At least. At the most. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way so that you have time to pack your belongings.”
“Zac, this is so sudden! I don’t know how I’m going to—“
Zac’s annoyance was growing rapidly. He barely had time to have this conversation as it was and now she was hesitating? “Bessie, do you love me or not?” He barked firmly.
“Of course I love you!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem, I just—I mean, my parents—“
Finally, Zac’s heart softened and he felt horrible for snapping. She would be leaving her family. Leaving her home. And all for the first time. She must have been terrified.
“Oh, Bessie,” he said gently. “I know this must be new…and frightening for you. And—and if you decide you need a little more time, I understand. It’s a lot to take on, I know. But I want you to know that the fact that you’re willing to leave your home to start a life with me in a world that is…that’s practically unknown to you shows what a strong, remarkable woman you are. And I love you, Bessie. I love you so much it hurts. I just wish I could be there to help you and to comfort you. I promise that I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe. And we’ll be together, always.”
Zac wasn’t sure if it was the static in the connection or if he heard Bessie sniffling, but he guessed that it was probably the latter. “I’m not afraid,” she replied with a quiver in her voice. “I love you and I trust in you completely. It’s just that—that when I tell my—“
“Then don’t,” he cut her off.
“Don’t?”
“Don’t tell your parents until I can be by your side. I will hold your hand and I will be with you. I can’t ask you to move away with me and then leave you to do it all on your own. We will tell your parents together. Don’t you worry.”
“I love you, Zac. I miss you so much.”
“I love you, too. And we’ll be together very soon, I promise it.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too, baby. More than you’ll ever know. I have to hang up now, I’ve been on this call for way too long.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry! I didn’t think--!”
“It’s okay. I’ll continue to write and I’ll telegram you soon. Bye, my sweet girl.”
“Zac, wait!”
“Yes?”
“What about Scout?”
Zac curled his lip up in a snarl. The mongrel. “We’ll bring him along, as well.”
“Oh, thank you, my darling!” She replied excitedly.
Zac grinned like a lovesick loon at the endearing term. She could bring every street mutt in Tulsa if her heart was set on it. Zac would be happy the entire way as long as she was happy.
Hanging up the receiver, Zac turned around to face the rest of the lobby and he took in a long, refreshing breath of air into his lungs. Two weeks. Two weeks and a plan. In two weeks, he will have saved a little more money, asked for a few days off to drive to Tulsa and retrieve his girl, and then he would bring her back to the city and get her settled. Two short weeks, he would start the rest of his life with the girl he loved.
For the first time in a month, Zac was on Cloud Nine and there was absolutely nothing that could bring him down.
IT WAS A bittersweet night. The Incredible Hansons had just performed their last show with Barney Harper’s traveling troupe and while Barney was taking the rest of the acts and heading for the next city, the Hanson brothers were remaining in New York. Taylor had spent much of the past week in disbelief, he had to admit. Between the meetings he was having with his new friend and the brand new contract they had just inked with Harvey Goldstein, Taylor felt like he was on top of the world. Things were finally picking back up for him and his brothers. No longer were they destitute and futureless or calling themselves by a false name. The Mystical Hanson Brothers—bah! Why had they even had to change their name to begin with? Because they were ashamed of themselves for failing? That was ridiculous. Looking back now, Taylor was seeing all sorts of things they should have done differently that would have kept them from living the past three years stationary in a travel trailer. Why, if they had played their cards right to begin with, they could have spent the past three years continuing to eat from silver spoons in New York City while everyone else walked to the unemployment lines in their dirty rags!
Well, that was unfair. Even Taylor was ashamed of himself for allowing that thought to cross his mind. After all, he had been on both sides of the fence now. He’d eaten from silver spoons and been a firsthand victim of having everything unexpectedly torn from his hands. It wasn’t a good feeling, not knowing where the next meal was or what he might wake up to the next morning. Living a life of bleakness and uncertainty was no way for anyone to live.
But now he had been offered a way to redeem himself, in more ways than one, and Taylor was ecstatic. He always knew there was ample opportunity in New York City, if only he could find the means to get there. He couldn’t have been more grateful to Barney Harper for the invite on this tour and for the headlining spot he had offered them. Despite the few bumps they’d encountered along the way, the money had been much more than he’d expected and he was more than pleased at the cash that lined his pockets and filled up the coffee cans and cigar boxes that were stashed and hidden all over the travel trailer.
Tonight, the festivities were in full swing along the fifth floor of the Plaza Hotel. After sets and props had been torn down and packed away, the troupe spent their last night in the city winding down and celebrating one last time together. Liquor ran rampant with nobody caring to report it and there was plenty of smoke to be had in various forms. Taylor had found himself in a packed suite and whom it belonged to, he decided he would never know. In the moment it didn’t matter, anyway. A Victrola played upbeat jazz in the corner and a smoky haze covered the air as laughter rang in his ears. He had lost track of his brothers awhile ago and he stood in a doorway, having a rousing conversation with Climbin’ Claude about the do’s and do-not’s of carnival travel.
All around them was dancing and laughter and conversation so loud that Taylor and Claude nearly had to raise their voices to hear each other. One sound, though, one so distinct that it practically stopped time for Taylor, rang out above the rest: “What the hell did you do to your hair, sweet girl?”
Furrowing his brow at Claude, Taylor whipped around and his eyes widened in horror. Across the room, in front of a window, Zac sat in a chair with a glass of brown liquid in his right hand and Dot Harper resting happily on his left knee.
“What the hell…?” Claude murmured.
Taylor’s feet felt like lead as he witnessed the exchange. His eyes darted around frantically for Isaac, but he was nowhere to be found. As he turned his attention back to their baby brother, Dot smiled and reached up to fluff her short, mousy brown bob. “Oh, you like it?” She replied. “I decided it was time for a change.”
“What the hell did she change?” Claude muttered.
Taylor backhanded his chest to shut him up.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Zac shook his head with a lazy smile as he reached up and fingered a lock of her hair. “Oh, Bessie, baby, you know you never have to change for me.”
Bessie?
Dot giggled and the sound sickened Taylor. “Oh, so you decided to call me Bessie after all. That’s okay, I told you I didn’t mind. I still don’t.”
“He’s three sheets to the fucking wind!” Claude squeaked.
And he was. Zac had to be, to sit there and call another woman Bessie. Especially a woman who didn’t even hold a candle to how attractive Bessie was. Dot Harper was just bad news all the way round, which was a shame, considering that her old man was a pretty decent guy. Poor man had no idea that his daughter was screwing his entire carnival troupe when she was supposed to be keeping the books. So shameful it was. And a little disturbing.
“Of course I call you Bessie, baby,” Zac slurred, his arm tightening around Dot’s waist. “That’s your name, isn’t it? My God, I just can’t believe you’re here.”
Dot giggled again. “Well, you know that’s not really my name, but I’m more than happy to play along!”
“What?” Zac snapped, his demeanor suddenly changing on a dime.
“Oh, shit, here he goes,” Claude commentated. “Why the hell are we still standing here, anyway?”
“What the hell do you mean your name isn’t Bessie? Did you fucking change it on me or something? Decide you couldn’t wait on me, what?”
Dot was beginning to look flustered and she smoothed out her hair nervously. “Well, Zac, I—I mean, I said I was willing to play, I didn’t think you were going to, you know, take it this seriously…”
“Play what? Play with my feelings?”
“Um…um, I mean I—“
Finally, Taylor stumbled forward with a forced shove from Claude. Claude was right, why the hell was Taylor paralyzed all of a sudden? Why had he let this continue this long?
Making his way to his brother, Taylor reached out and lifted Dot off of Zac’s knee by her elbow. Taylor glared at her. “Can’t you see he’s fucking swacked? You can smell it nearly a mile away.”
Dot batted her eyes innocently at Taylor. “Well, I—I didn’t know—“
Taylor pursed his lips skeptically. “You knew. Now why don’t you go and find yourself someone else’s pants to crawl into?”
Dot gasped and stepped backward. “Well, I never--!”
“Have a nice life, Dorothy,” Taylor waved.
As Dot Harper stormed away angrily, Zac attempted to stumble to his feet. “Hey,” he slurred angrily. “What’s the big idea, she just got here! I’ve waited all month long for her!”
Catching Zac by the arm, Taylor took the drink out of Zac’s hand and rested it on a nearby table. Struggling to hold him upright, Claude darted out of nowhere and caught Zac by the opposite side. “That wasn’t Bessie, Zac,” Taylor revealed quietly. “That was Dot Harper.”
Zac’s eyes widened as if this were news to him. “What?” He hissed.
“You’re drunk,” Taylor clarified as they began to walk Zac carefully through the crowded room. “And I just saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“I was not,” Zac slurred. “I wasn’t making a mis—a sima—a mista—a steak! I was f-f-fine. Why would you say that?”
“Because,” Taylor replied bluntly. “You almost cheated on your girl.”
And that was when Zac passed out.
* * *
Dita: hello
Rakli: young, unmarried non-Roma girl
Bori: sister-in-law
Keck: no
Tumnimos: the betrothal
Gajo: adult non-gypsy