BLESSED
Judge Jim Harlow drove home after a long day on the bench. Apparently, the weekend's fair had brought about a plethora of arrests, mostly for petty crimes as usual, but it was a busy day, nonetheless. Since the stock market crash in 1929, Judge Harlow's job had become just as depressing as the economy. Not that he ever wanted anything exceptionally heinous to happen just to get a little action in the courtroom, but rather looking in the faces of the men who committed the majority of these crimes and sentencing them for their actions was becoming taxing on the judge.
He understood why more than half of the men sat in his courtroom. Times were difficult. Tulsa was blessed that their economy hadn't been hit nearly as hard as the majority of the United States, but it didn't stop the city from being affected by it. There were still desperate men--men desperate to feed their families, men desperate to financially provide for their families, and men taking these things out on each other. These men knew they were wrong. The judge could see the remorse. They didn't want to steal, they didn't want to fight--they just wanted to survive. But the judge had laws to uphold and he was an honest man and he had to deliver justice where it was due, no matter how much it weighed on his heart to pound his gavel on the block.
He was happy to drive home day after day. He knew he was truly blessed. He loved being greeted by his beautiful wife and daughter in their comfortable farmhouse amidst the fields of green and the scent of the fresh, clean air that the country provided. People looked at him funny when they found out that he lived on a farm. They looked at him even funnier when they found out he operated one several years before. Obviously, people expected those who held public office to have lavish lifestyles and live in posh penthouses or sprawling mansions within the city limits. But not Judge Harlow. He liked living in the country and he liked raising his daughter in the country. He liked that she didn't have the potential to encounter all the negative influences that the city limits could have on her. It was bad enough that she had gone to public school as it was.
When the paved road turned into a dirt one, a small smile crossed the judge's face as it did every day. It was becoming a reflex. When the pavement turned to dirt, he knew he was home. He was away from the noise, away from the stuffy air, away from the hustle and bustle that the city held inside its limits. The country was clean, it was quiet, and it was free.
As he meandered in comfort behind the wheel of his black, 1930 Ford Model T, he put down the window to breathe in some of the crisp, afternoon air. Despite the scorching heat of the day, he could still smell how sweet it was.
When he was halfway home, something caught the judge's eye on the other side of the road. A man in a wool cap, white shirt, and suspenders walked down the road with his hands shoved in his pockets. How he was tolerating the sun like that was beyond the judge, but even more curiously, was why he seemed to be walking away from his own home. The judge's house was the next one that was coming up just ahead and he knew nobody should have had any business there.
His hair standing on end now, the judge slowed his automobile down to get a closer look at the strange man that the judge was pretty sure didn't belong in this area. As he slowed, the man looked up, threw up a hand to wave, and kept walking. His eyes widening a bit, the judge recognized Zac Hanson right away. The gypsy camp he lived on was a too-close two and a half miles in the opposite direction. Surely he was out for an afternoon stroll or something. But why hadn't he ever seen him out here before?
If he hadn't known Zac was harmless, he would have stopped and questioned him. But the Hanson boys had never bothered anyone and the judge had no real problem with their presence. All they simply did was try to survive, much like everyone else. Much like the men that showed up in his courtroom day after day.
Thinking about the men in the courtroom, the judge sighed as he passed Zac by and thought about the times when he was the one standing in his courtroom. Sending Zac to jail tugged on his heartstrings like nothing else had. Zac was completely lost during that time. A man broken so early in his life, a man who, at twenty-three, had so much in life, only for it all to be taken away from him in an instant--the way he was famous and lived lavishly with money made by his many talents, doing the things he loved to do--only to come home to dead parents and a home they could no longer afford. The stock market crashed and vaudeville crashed with it and in the snap of a finger, the Hanson boys went from famous to destitute, all three of them lost and alone. Judge Harlow couldn't begin to imagine what something like that could do to a man, much less three men, and so when Zac ended up arrested on two different occasions for stealing food, the judge had to leave work and go straight into a speakeasy to drink his guilt away. The third time he put Zac in jail, though, he was a little less guilty. The boy should have known better than to throw punches in public the way he did, no matter who was wrong or right. The judge was proud of Zac now, though. He'd managed to stay out of trouble and he'd managed to survive this depression with his brothers relatively quietly. He just wished those boys could catch a break and get on with their lives.
Letting out a breath, the judge took one last glance in his rearview mirror at Zac's back before he focused on the rest of his drive. Pushing the still-troubling memories out of his mind, the judge whistled a tune as he drove the last mile home. Finally pulling up alongside the farmhouse, he got out of the car, closed the door, and breathed in the mouth-watering aroma of dinner cooking from inside. Yes. He was truly blessed.
Half an hour later, Judge Harlow sat at the head of a dining room table of three women: his wife, his daughter, and his niece, who was an unexpected presence upon walking in the door. The women remained quiet as they ate, as was the norm, until the judge spoke first. "Bessie, dear, how was your day today? Did you and your mother get any shopping done?"
Bessie looked as if he had caught her off guard and with as quiet as the table had been, he supposed his voice probably did startle her. She blinked at him for a moment and then she recovered, spearing a bean on her fork and putting it into her mouth. "No, sir. Joey Martin showed up unexpectedly today and asked me to walk with him to the general store for a candy bar. Mama said I could go and that she would handle the shopping own her own."
The judge looked at her in thought for a moment as he took a bite of his own dinner. Swallowing, he said to her, "I'm not so sure you should be hanging around with that boy. He's...a little strange..."
Bessie's head whipped up and she looked at her father with an expression he wasn't sure he'd ever seen on her before. It took him aback for a moment. "There's nothing wrong with Joey, Daddy. He's a perfectly nice boy and I like him. He's my good friend. And besides, you and Mama are friends with Mr. and Mrs. Martin, I can't believe you'd say such a thing about their son."
The judge's eyes widened at his daughter. He couldn't remember her ever snapping at him in such a way before. This was new. In a way, he wanted to scold her for being disrespectful but, in spite of himself, he couldn't bring himself to do it because as much as he hated to admit it, she had a point.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and he cleared his throat. "Well, then, I apologize. You know him better than I do, I suppose." He glanced around at Catherine and Millie, who seemed to have nothing to add, and then he remembered Zac. "Did anyone come by the house today?"
Silverware clanged against a plate to his right and he looked over at his daughter, who was scrambling to retrieve her fork. "I wasn't here," she said quickly as she poked around at her food. "I was with Joey."
"All right..." he replied warily. "I was only asking because I saw one of those gypsies walking down the road on my way home just awhile ago."
"Gypsies?" Catherine asked.
"Well, not necessarily a gypsy, I guess. One of those Hanson boys."
"What was he doing here?" Millie suddenly blurted.
"He was here?" Judge Harlow asked.
"No," Bessie said quickly.
"You said you weren't home," he retorted to his daughter. "How would you know whether he was here or not?" Then he looked at Millie. "How do you even know who I'm taking about? I didn't tell you which one." Then he tossed his napkin on the table and looked around. "Does someone want to tell me what's going on under my own roof?"
"Nobody came here, Jim," Catherine assured him. "I think you just caught the girls a little off guard, that's all. You know nobody ever comes all the way out here."
He looked warily around the table once more as the women went back to their plates. "It's bad enough they settled their camp just a couple of miles from here," he said calmly. "I just want to make sure you ladies are safe when I'm not home. You never know what any one of them--"
"Daddy, why do you have to be so unfair all the time? You don't even know any of them! They're people, just like us!"
With that outburst, Bessie shot from her chair and excused herself from the table, storming her way to her bedroom.
As Jim watched her leave the dining room, he looked over at his wife. "Catherine," he said with a stern quietness. "What is going on with our daughter?"
"She's growing up, Jim," his wife replied, matching his tone. "And she isn't going to be in this house much longer. You might want to keep that in mind from now on when you interact with her."
And then his wife began to clear the dinner table.
Judge Harlow and his tall frame sat back in his chair as he ran a hand through his short, sand-colored hair. Why did he feel like he was losing control all of a sudden?
____________________________________________________________________________________
It wasn't long before Millie was bursting into Bessie's bedroom, uninvited. Closing the door behind her, she raced to her bed and sat down beside her. "Okay, tell me everything," she said excitedly. "You were with Zac today, weren't you?"
"I really did go to the store with Joey. We only bought soda, though, and drank them in the store because it was so hot outside," she answered.
"Bessie, I don't give a damn about Joey."
"Millie!" Bessie scolded. "Such language!"
Millie waved her off. "Oh, please, nobody heard me. I want to hear about Zac. What happened?"
Bessie glanced down at her hands in her lap, unsure what to say. She had so many mixed emotions at the moment. First of all, she felt guilty that she felt the need to hide Zac from her father. She didn't understand why she felt the need to do that. There was nothing wrong with Zac. He was nice and he was intelligent and despite a hiccup or two along the way, he was also kind and polite--he was a gentleman. But she was afraid her father would never understand. Especially after the comment he'd just made at dinner. She was afraid that if he found out about Zac, he would forbid her to see him. And she just couldn't bear the thought.
Then she thought about how hiding Zac from her father was unfair to Zac. Bessie wasn't ashamed of Zac. Not in the least. And she shouldn't be afraid to admit her feelings for him to anyone who inquired. No one should feel like they have to hide their feelings from anyone. And besides, she was an adult now. What could her father really say to her if she told him she liked Zac?
And then there was the excitement. Oh, she'd never felt this way before in her life. She felt so exhilarated and light-headed and her heart fluttered with happiness. All she felt like she wanted to do was smile for the rest of her days. She couldn't stop thinking about him. She couldn't stop thinking about his smile, or his voice, or the way his breath felt against her ear. She couldn't stop remembering how her heart raced as he sat so close to her and how the words he recited took her breath away. And when he held her hand on the way home...oh, the way his warm, strong hand felt intertwined with hers. She never wanted to let go. Was this what it was like, crushing on a boy? It was no wonder Millie and Judith stayed so smitten all the time. The feeling was unmatched to anything else in the world.
Finally, she grinned and she felt her cheeks warm up as she looked at her cousin. "He showed up when I was walking home with Joey. He said he knocked on the door, but nobody was home. I guess Mama was shopping then. Anyway, he asked me to go for a walk. And then he took me to his secret place that nobody knows about and he read me Shakespeare and then..." She paused and bit her lip, feeling her cheeks burning with heat. "And then he held my hand and walked me home."
Millie giggled excitedly and grabbed Bessie by her hands. "Oh, Bessie, I knew it! I knew he liked you, I just knew it! I'm so happy for you! So, tell me! What does this mean?"
Bessie blinked at her blankly. "What do you mean?"
Millie sighed, exasperated. "I mean are you going steady or what?"
"Steady?"
"Is he your beau?"
"My beau?"
"Bessie, please!"
"I'm sorry, I'm--I'm very confused..."
"He didn't ask you to be his girl? Did he hug you or kiss you or anything?"
Bessie shook her head slowly in confusion. "No..."
"Oh, Bess!" Millie flopped down dramatically onto her back across the bed. "So, then...what?"
Bessie was growing frustrated. "What what, Millie?"
"What happens now?"
Bessie's eyes darted around in thought. "Um...well...we're meeting again tomorrow. If--if that's what you mean."
Millie turned over and smiled up at Bessie. "You are? Meeting to do what?"
"Um...I don't know...talk, I guess? What are we supposed to do?"
"Oh, you poor, sweet girl. You're killing me."
"Well, tell me, Millie! What am I supposed to do?"
At this moment, there was a knock on the door and Millie jumped back up into a seated position. Bessie's mother poked her head around the door. "May I come in?"
Bessie and Millie made a spot on the bed for her and her mother closed the door and eagerly wrapped up her dress and sat alongside her daughter. "Tell me what happened at dinner. Don't make me drag it out of you like I had to drag it out of you at the fair."
"Zac met me and Joey when we were walking home. And then he walked me to a beautiful clearing by the river. And we sat under a large shade tree and he apologized to me for being so rude and then he read me poem. And then I came home for supper. And that's it."
"So he was here," her mother deduced.
"Well, not exactly..."
"I see."
Bessie looked at her mother for a moment and bit her lip and then her eyes lit up. "Mama, he held my hand," she said excitedly. "And I'm not really sure what that means, but I can't even begin to tell you what I feel like right now. It's strange and it's good and...and I can't focus on anything!"
A smile crept across her mother's face as she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Bessie's ear. "What's happening is you like him. It's new and it's exciting and your first crush is...it's the most wonderful feeling you'll ever feel. Even after you fall in love and you get married...this first crush right here, this first time? You'll never quite have the same experience to feel that again. And Bessie, I want you to enjoy it. I want you to feel these feelings with all of your heart and I want you to lose yourself and I want you to--to just know what it's like. I think this is good that this is happening to you right before you go off to school."
Bessie tried not to think about school. She tried not to think about leaving Tulsa and only coming back during the summer. She tried not to think about being like Millie or Judith. She was has happy and she was relieved that her mother approved of her liking Zac, but--"But, Mama, that stuff that Daddy said at the table--"
"Don't you worry about your father. I think your father forgets how old you are sometimes. He looks at you and he still sees the little girl he used to bounce on his knee and sing nursery rhymes with. He'll come around, it'll just take a little extra time, that's all."
"I hope so," Bessie replied quietly. "Because--because I don't want to stop seeing Zac. I don't ever want to stop seeing him. In fact, I want to see him right now..."
Her mother smiled again. "I know you do, sweetheart. I know. Anyway, I'll leave you to catch up with your cousin. You've had a lot of excitement the past couple of days, I suggest that you stay here and rest tonight. And that you don't make use of that ladder that's outside your window."
And with that, Bessie's mother left the room.
Millie looked at Bessie, wide-eyed, and that caught Bessie off guard. "What's the matter with you?"
"Did you hear what she just said?"
"Of course, I heard everything she said."
"Bessie, she just gave you permission to sneak out and go see Zac."
Bessie furrowed her brow. "No, she didn't. She didn't say anything about that, she said for me to stay in tonight."
"Oh, right. And she didn't just go out of her way to remind you there's a ladder outside your window," Millie retorted sarcastically.
"Well, yeah, but that's only for emergencies in case the house ever catches fire. Remember what one summer when--?"
"No, Bessie!" Millie hissed. "Come on now, you're smarter than that! Sure, your daddy put that out there as a safety precaution but it still works just the same even when there isn't a fire! You're an adult, live a little! You literally can leave this house and go see Zac anytime you want! And you pretty much just got permission for it. Take advantage!"
Bessie's eyes widened as she took in Millie's words. She was right. She was absolutely right. And half the time she slept with her window open anyway, so her parents would never hear her leave. And she didn't have to drive, she could ride her bicycle. But in the dark? Alone? She didn't even know where she was going.
Tempting as the idea was, she shook her head. "Millie, I can't. Not tonight. I--I don't know where I'm going and we only just mended fences and--and I don't want to wear it out, you know? We made plans to see each other tomorrow, we'll just stick with that. I think--I think that's best."
"Well," Millie huffed. "Just don't forget what just happened here. I expect to hear lots of good things out of this little affair." Then she rolled over on her stomach and looked up at Bessie with stars in her eyes. "Oh, Bessie, I'm so happy for you! And you know, we can double date now! Or even triple date with his brothers! You, me, and Judith? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"
Bessie's nerves began to get the best of her again. At the mention of Taylor, she remembered her conversation with him the day before and something wasn't sitting right in her stomach about it. "Let's, um, let's take this one step at a time. I'd like to get to know Zac a little better before we do any, um...group dating..."
"Oh, he held your hand, for crying out loud, you know him enough for that."
"Millie, please."
"Fine," she lamented. Then she smiled again. "But I still want you to tell me everything!"
Bessie grinned and she fell back onto the bed alongside Millie with stars in her eyes. "Oh, Millie, he is so dreamy!"
From there, the cousins talked so long that Millie ended up sleeping over. In spite of herself, as they slept much later on, Bessie found herself waking up through the night and looking toward her open window.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
By the time Zac got home, it was dark outside. After walking Bessie home, he'd walked back to his tree to sit and go over in his head everything that had just happened. Save for the awkward encounter with Judge Harlow along the way, Zac felt good. He sat under the tree with this arms resting on his knees and he looked out over the green and the wildflowers and he breathed in the clean air and he smiled. He felt almost complete.
He couldn't believe she'd allowed him to hold her hand. And he wasn't sure why that was such a big deal to him all of a sudden, seeing as his norm was to do much, much more with a woman and knowing her for much lesser amount of time. But this time...this was different. Everything was different, it felt different. It felt like everything he'd ever known or felt or believed in was...altering somehow. He didn't feel quite the same. It was becoming more and more difficult to find his usual cynical outlook on life when everything about the object of his affection was so pure and good. And the notion that someone so pure and good and beautiful could possibly return his feelings was just...surreal. What had he done to deserve this? What had he done to make someone look at him the way she did? He could see it in her eyes, he could see her sincerity and her honesty. What had he done?
Zac sat at the tree for a couple of hours, he knew, and he dreamed. His dreams were blissful and peaceful and comforting and he smiled as he let his mind wander. Mindlessly tearing blades of grass apart, he smiled into the fresh air, remembering the scent of her hair and feeling her smooth, delicate skin in his hand. By the time he had stood up and brushed his pants off, he had married Bessie, built her a beautiful house with a wrap-around porch and they'd had three beautiful children, all looking exactly like their mother. If this could truly be his future, his happiness would know no bounds.
However, as he made the rest of his way home and stepped onto the grounds of the camp he lived on, reality came crashing down on his shoulders. He could never build Bessie that house. She would never marry him because he would never have the right to ask her. And everything he had just fantasized about was a complete and total wash. He couldn't provide for her. He could barely provide for himself--and sometimes he couldn't even do that. Who was he kidding? He would never be good enough for Bessie Harlow.
Taylor, though. Taylor was a dreamer. He was a serial optimist, always striving to see the good in every situation, no matter how bad it was. Taylor believed that every day was better than the day before and that they weren't at a standstill in their lives, but that they were getting a little closer to the light at the end of the tunnel with each passing day. It was a nice sentiment and Zac wanted to believe it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't reality. Reality was that Zac finally found something that he wanted to better himself for and, yet, he literally had no means to make it happen. There was nothing out there for anyone these days.
Zac couldn't say he was surprised that Taylor was sitting on the steps of the trailer, seemingly waiting up for him when he came home. His face lit up and he smiled when he saw Zac and he scooted over on the step he was sitting on to make room. Taking a seat, Zac pulled his suspenders off of his shoulders and took off his hat, running his hand over his pulled-back hair. "So you waited up, huh?"
"Yeah," Taylor smiled. "How did it go? Did you apologize?"
"Yeah," Zac nodded, his smile bringing the heat to his face. "Yeah, I did."
"And then?"
"And then we had a nice time. It wasn't long enough--"
"Not long enough?" Taylor scoffed. "You've been gone for hours."
"I've been alone for hours. I didn't even get two hours with her, she had to go home."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing, really. We talked a little. Read a little Shakespeare. I held her hand. And I'm taking her to the town social this weekend, so. That's good."
Taylor grinned from ear to ear. "Zac. That's amazing!"
Zac narrowed his eyes and looked at his brother. "Why are you so excited about this?"
Taylor's smile softened. "Because I'm happy for you. I think you really need this."
"I don't know," Zac said, thoughfully. "I just--I want to completely let loose and be happy about this."
"So be happy about it. There's nothing stopping you."
Zac let out a breath and looked at his brother. "Everything is stopping me. Everything is--is different, it's--it's good. I don't know how to accept something that's good. I don't feel like I should."
"Of course you should," his brother said gently. "You deserve to be happy. Everyone does."
"I can't make her happy, Tay. What does she see in me? I have nothing. I am nothing. I'm a former convict who's trying to hold on to something that isn't there anymore. I'm pathetic and she has her entire future ahead of her. All I did was sit here and piss mine away with nothing to show for it."
Taylor sighed and laced his fingers together. "I really wish you'd stop talking yourself out of everything. Stop being so down on yourself. You said so yourself, we're doing better than a lot of people out there--hell, we're faring better than half the gypsies over there. And look at them. They're happy. They've learned to make do with what they have. Happiness isn't material things, Zac. It's not money or houses or cars or--or any of that stuff. It's accepting who you are as a person. And if you don't like who you are, then you need to take a step back and figure out what really makes you happy."
Zac was silent for a moment as he took in Taylor's words. He could be so poetic at times; so insightful. He reminded him of their mother sometimes. "Are you happy?" He asked him.
Taylor glanced down at his hands and then back out into the air. "I don't know."
"Then how can you sit there and preach to me about how to be happy if you're not?"
"I don't--I don't know, I just--I don't know, I've started thinking some for the past day or so. Well, really longer than that, but--something Bessie said to me yesterday has been weighing a little heavy on my mind, I just--I don't know."
Zac guessed it was his natural, possessive quality that made him dislike the sound of Bessie's name leaving Taylor's mouth. But swallowing his disdain, he took a breath and asked him, "What did she say?"
Taylor looked over at his brother. "Millie and I don't talk."
Zac furrowed his brow and his eyes darted around in confusion, maybe partially waiting for Taylor to complete his statement. When he didn't, Zac replied. "That's it?"
"Well--yeah."
"So, what, she comes over and you screw her and she goes home? I didn't realize it was quite that casual."
"No, it's not--I mean, we don't talk. We don't--I shared things with Bessie yesterday that I've never shared with Millie--"
"I don't like where this is going."
"It's not like that, it's like--Bessie is easy to talk to. She listens. Except that I've known Millie for a couple of years now and for as much time as we spend together, we should have talked. Zac, I'm nearly thirty years old. I can't live like that anymore."
Zac scoffed and smiled sarcastically. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious. I'm getting older, I need to--I need to act my age. I need to figure out what I want my life to be. Time's going by way too fast. You know?"
"What are you saying, Tay?"
"That's just it, I don't know what I'm saying. All I know is that I need a change. I just don't know where to start." Then he looked around and leaned in closer to Zac, lowering his voice. "Aishe's kinda been taking care of me a little bit for the past week or so."
"Tay, I don't really need to hear about any of your sexual exploits--"
"No, not like that! Like--she mended my shirt, and she--she did my laundry. She brought me some kind of weird spice to put in my coffee that I actually really like and--Zac, I didn't even ask her to do any of it, she just did it. And she never asked for anything in return and--and she's been really good to me and I'm very appreciative of it and it makes me feel...odd."
Aishe lived on the gypsy camp amongst the gypsies. At twenty-five years old, she came and went, sometimes doing work for wealthy families such as cleaning or nannying or laundering, as she was apparently a very talented laundress. She was a small woman, with dark eyes and shoulder-length dark hair, with light curves and a jovial smile. She wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, but she wasn't terribly unattractive, either. She was kind and her English was better than most of the other gypsies, but she could still be hard to understand at times. That didn't matter, though. She was nice to have around as the rest of her family was, along with the other gypsies.
"It's not like that's the first time a woman's ever volunteered to do anything for you," Zac remarked. "I can't believe some of the things you've allowed women to do for you..."
"Well...that was then. And...and this is now and...and I think I might want to see if there's anything between me and Millie beyond...you know, what we already have."
"Wow," Zac muttered. "I never thought I'd hear you talk like this."
"I never thought I would talk like this."
"I guess times really are changing. For all of us." Then Zac turned around and began to look around, noticing the unusual quiet around them. "Where's Ike?"
Taylor shrugged. "No idea. He left out of here not too long before you showed up."
Zac looked at his brother for a moment in thought. He had to admit, he felt a little bad for Taylor and he felt like he was seeing a side of him he'd never seen before. Apparently there was more to Taylor than was on the surface. He was lonely.
A smile crept across Zac's face as he nudged his brother's shoulder with his own. "You know what I just got the notion to do?"
"What?"
"Last one in the river's a rotten egg."
Taylor grinned and was already stripping off the outer layers of his clothing. "You're not gonna beat me this time. No way!"
Laughing, the two brothers broke into a wide open sprint, into the woods and down the well-traveled paths they knew so well. Sometimes it felt good to let loose and act like a child again. It was moments like this when Zac felt truly blessed to be who he was.
Judge Jim Harlow drove home after a long day on the bench. Apparently, the weekend's fair had brought about a plethora of arrests, mostly for petty crimes as usual, but it was a busy day, nonetheless. Since the stock market crash in 1929, Judge Harlow's job had become just as depressing as the economy. Not that he ever wanted anything exceptionally heinous to happen just to get a little action in the courtroom, but rather looking in the faces of the men who committed the majority of these crimes and sentencing them for their actions was becoming taxing on the judge.
He understood why more than half of the men sat in his courtroom. Times were difficult. Tulsa was blessed that their economy hadn't been hit nearly as hard as the majority of the United States, but it didn't stop the city from being affected by it. There were still desperate men--men desperate to feed their families, men desperate to financially provide for their families, and men taking these things out on each other. These men knew they were wrong. The judge could see the remorse. They didn't want to steal, they didn't want to fight--they just wanted to survive. But the judge had laws to uphold and he was an honest man and he had to deliver justice where it was due, no matter how much it weighed on his heart to pound his gavel on the block.
He was happy to drive home day after day. He knew he was truly blessed. He loved being greeted by his beautiful wife and daughter in their comfortable farmhouse amidst the fields of green and the scent of the fresh, clean air that the country provided. People looked at him funny when they found out that he lived on a farm. They looked at him even funnier when they found out he operated one several years before. Obviously, people expected those who held public office to have lavish lifestyles and live in posh penthouses or sprawling mansions within the city limits. But not Judge Harlow. He liked living in the country and he liked raising his daughter in the country. He liked that she didn't have the potential to encounter all the negative influences that the city limits could have on her. It was bad enough that she had gone to public school as it was.
When the paved road turned into a dirt one, a small smile crossed the judge's face as it did every day. It was becoming a reflex. When the pavement turned to dirt, he knew he was home. He was away from the noise, away from the stuffy air, away from the hustle and bustle that the city held inside its limits. The country was clean, it was quiet, and it was free.
As he meandered in comfort behind the wheel of his black, 1930 Ford Model T, he put down the window to breathe in some of the crisp, afternoon air. Despite the scorching heat of the day, he could still smell how sweet it was.
When he was halfway home, something caught the judge's eye on the other side of the road. A man in a wool cap, white shirt, and suspenders walked down the road with his hands shoved in his pockets. How he was tolerating the sun like that was beyond the judge, but even more curiously, was why he seemed to be walking away from his own home. The judge's house was the next one that was coming up just ahead and he knew nobody should have had any business there.
His hair standing on end now, the judge slowed his automobile down to get a closer look at the strange man that the judge was pretty sure didn't belong in this area. As he slowed, the man looked up, threw up a hand to wave, and kept walking. His eyes widening a bit, the judge recognized Zac Hanson right away. The gypsy camp he lived on was a too-close two and a half miles in the opposite direction. Surely he was out for an afternoon stroll or something. But why hadn't he ever seen him out here before?
If he hadn't known Zac was harmless, he would have stopped and questioned him. But the Hanson boys had never bothered anyone and the judge had no real problem with their presence. All they simply did was try to survive, much like everyone else. Much like the men that showed up in his courtroom day after day.
Thinking about the men in the courtroom, the judge sighed as he passed Zac by and thought about the times when he was the one standing in his courtroom. Sending Zac to jail tugged on his heartstrings like nothing else had. Zac was completely lost during that time. A man broken so early in his life, a man who, at twenty-three, had so much in life, only for it all to be taken away from him in an instant--the way he was famous and lived lavishly with money made by his many talents, doing the things he loved to do--only to come home to dead parents and a home they could no longer afford. The stock market crashed and vaudeville crashed with it and in the snap of a finger, the Hanson boys went from famous to destitute, all three of them lost and alone. Judge Harlow couldn't begin to imagine what something like that could do to a man, much less three men, and so when Zac ended up arrested on two different occasions for stealing food, the judge had to leave work and go straight into a speakeasy to drink his guilt away. The third time he put Zac in jail, though, he was a little less guilty. The boy should have known better than to throw punches in public the way he did, no matter who was wrong or right. The judge was proud of Zac now, though. He'd managed to stay out of trouble and he'd managed to survive this depression with his brothers relatively quietly. He just wished those boys could catch a break and get on with their lives.
Letting out a breath, the judge took one last glance in his rearview mirror at Zac's back before he focused on the rest of his drive. Pushing the still-troubling memories out of his mind, the judge whistled a tune as he drove the last mile home. Finally pulling up alongside the farmhouse, he got out of the car, closed the door, and breathed in the mouth-watering aroma of dinner cooking from inside. Yes. He was truly blessed.
Half an hour later, Judge Harlow sat at the head of a dining room table of three women: his wife, his daughter, and his niece, who was an unexpected presence upon walking in the door. The women remained quiet as they ate, as was the norm, until the judge spoke first. "Bessie, dear, how was your day today? Did you and your mother get any shopping done?"
Bessie looked as if he had caught her off guard and with as quiet as the table had been, he supposed his voice probably did startle her. She blinked at him for a moment and then she recovered, spearing a bean on her fork and putting it into her mouth. "No, sir. Joey Martin showed up unexpectedly today and asked me to walk with him to the general store for a candy bar. Mama said I could go and that she would handle the shopping own her own."
The judge looked at her in thought for a moment as he took a bite of his own dinner. Swallowing, he said to her, "I'm not so sure you should be hanging around with that boy. He's...a little strange..."
Bessie's head whipped up and she looked at her father with an expression he wasn't sure he'd ever seen on her before. It took him aback for a moment. "There's nothing wrong with Joey, Daddy. He's a perfectly nice boy and I like him. He's my good friend. And besides, you and Mama are friends with Mr. and Mrs. Martin, I can't believe you'd say such a thing about their son."
The judge's eyes widened at his daughter. He couldn't remember her ever snapping at him in such a way before. This was new. In a way, he wanted to scold her for being disrespectful but, in spite of himself, he couldn't bring himself to do it because as much as he hated to admit it, she had a point.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and he cleared his throat. "Well, then, I apologize. You know him better than I do, I suppose." He glanced around at Catherine and Millie, who seemed to have nothing to add, and then he remembered Zac. "Did anyone come by the house today?"
Silverware clanged against a plate to his right and he looked over at his daughter, who was scrambling to retrieve her fork. "I wasn't here," she said quickly as she poked around at her food. "I was with Joey."
"All right..." he replied warily. "I was only asking because I saw one of those gypsies walking down the road on my way home just awhile ago."
"Gypsies?" Catherine asked.
"Well, not necessarily a gypsy, I guess. One of those Hanson boys."
"What was he doing here?" Millie suddenly blurted.
"He was here?" Judge Harlow asked.
"No," Bessie said quickly.
"You said you weren't home," he retorted to his daughter. "How would you know whether he was here or not?" Then he looked at Millie. "How do you even know who I'm taking about? I didn't tell you which one." Then he tossed his napkin on the table and looked around. "Does someone want to tell me what's going on under my own roof?"
"Nobody came here, Jim," Catherine assured him. "I think you just caught the girls a little off guard, that's all. You know nobody ever comes all the way out here."
He looked warily around the table once more as the women went back to their plates. "It's bad enough they settled their camp just a couple of miles from here," he said calmly. "I just want to make sure you ladies are safe when I'm not home. You never know what any one of them--"
"Daddy, why do you have to be so unfair all the time? You don't even know any of them! They're people, just like us!"
With that outburst, Bessie shot from her chair and excused herself from the table, storming her way to her bedroom.
As Jim watched her leave the dining room, he looked over at his wife. "Catherine," he said with a stern quietness. "What is going on with our daughter?"
"She's growing up, Jim," his wife replied, matching his tone. "And she isn't going to be in this house much longer. You might want to keep that in mind from now on when you interact with her."
And then his wife began to clear the dinner table.
Judge Harlow and his tall frame sat back in his chair as he ran a hand through his short, sand-colored hair. Why did he feel like he was losing control all of a sudden?
____________________________________________________________________________________
It wasn't long before Millie was bursting into Bessie's bedroom, uninvited. Closing the door behind her, she raced to her bed and sat down beside her. "Okay, tell me everything," she said excitedly. "You were with Zac today, weren't you?"
"I really did go to the store with Joey. We only bought soda, though, and drank them in the store because it was so hot outside," she answered.
"Bessie, I don't give a damn about Joey."
"Millie!" Bessie scolded. "Such language!"
Millie waved her off. "Oh, please, nobody heard me. I want to hear about Zac. What happened?"
Bessie glanced down at her hands in her lap, unsure what to say. She had so many mixed emotions at the moment. First of all, she felt guilty that she felt the need to hide Zac from her father. She didn't understand why she felt the need to do that. There was nothing wrong with Zac. He was nice and he was intelligent and despite a hiccup or two along the way, he was also kind and polite--he was a gentleman. But she was afraid her father would never understand. Especially after the comment he'd just made at dinner. She was afraid that if he found out about Zac, he would forbid her to see him. And she just couldn't bear the thought.
Then she thought about how hiding Zac from her father was unfair to Zac. Bessie wasn't ashamed of Zac. Not in the least. And she shouldn't be afraid to admit her feelings for him to anyone who inquired. No one should feel like they have to hide their feelings from anyone. And besides, she was an adult now. What could her father really say to her if she told him she liked Zac?
And then there was the excitement. Oh, she'd never felt this way before in her life. She felt so exhilarated and light-headed and her heart fluttered with happiness. All she felt like she wanted to do was smile for the rest of her days. She couldn't stop thinking about him. She couldn't stop thinking about his smile, or his voice, or the way his breath felt against her ear. She couldn't stop remembering how her heart raced as he sat so close to her and how the words he recited took her breath away. And when he held her hand on the way home...oh, the way his warm, strong hand felt intertwined with hers. She never wanted to let go. Was this what it was like, crushing on a boy? It was no wonder Millie and Judith stayed so smitten all the time. The feeling was unmatched to anything else in the world.
Finally, she grinned and she felt her cheeks warm up as she looked at her cousin. "He showed up when I was walking home with Joey. He said he knocked on the door, but nobody was home. I guess Mama was shopping then. Anyway, he asked me to go for a walk. And then he took me to his secret place that nobody knows about and he read me Shakespeare and then..." She paused and bit her lip, feeling her cheeks burning with heat. "And then he held my hand and walked me home."
Millie giggled excitedly and grabbed Bessie by her hands. "Oh, Bessie, I knew it! I knew he liked you, I just knew it! I'm so happy for you! So, tell me! What does this mean?"
Bessie blinked at her blankly. "What do you mean?"
Millie sighed, exasperated. "I mean are you going steady or what?"
"Steady?"
"Is he your beau?"
"My beau?"
"Bessie, please!"
"I'm sorry, I'm--I'm very confused..."
"He didn't ask you to be his girl? Did he hug you or kiss you or anything?"
Bessie shook her head slowly in confusion. "No..."
"Oh, Bess!" Millie flopped down dramatically onto her back across the bed. "So, then...what?"
Bessie was growing frustrated. "What what, Millie?"
"What happens now?"
Bessie's eyes darted around in thought. "Um...well...we're meeting again tomorrow. If--if that's what you mean."
Millie turned over and smiled up at Bessie. "You are? Meeting to do what?"
"Um...I don't know...talk, I guess? What are we supposed to do?"
"Oh, you poor, sweet girl. You're killing me."
"Well, tell me, Millie! What am I supposed to do?"
At this moment, there was a knock on the door and Millie jumped back up into a seated position. Bessie's mother poked her head around the door. "May I come in?"
Bessie and Millie made a spot on the bed for her and her mother closed the door and eagerly wrapped up her dress and sat alongside her daughter. "Tell me what happened at dinner. Don't make me drag it out of you like I had to drag it out of you at the fair."
"Zac met me and Joey when we were walking home. And then he walked me to a beautiful clearing by the river. And we sat under a large shade tree and he apologized to me for being so rude and then he read me poem. And then I came home for supper. And that's it."
"So he was here," her mother deduced.
"Well, not exactly..."
"I see."
Bessie looked at her mother for a moment and bit her lip and then her eyes lit up. "Mama, he held my hand," she said excitedly. "And I'm not really sure what that means, but I can't even begin to tell you what I feel like right now. It's strange and it's good and...and I can't focus on anything!"
A smile crept across her mother's face as she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Bessie's ear. "What's happening is you like him. It's new and it's exciting and your first crush is...it's the most wonderful feeling you'll ever feel. Even after you fall in love and you get married...this first crush right here, this first time? You'll never quite have the same experience to feel that again. And Bessie, I want you to enjoy it. I want you to feel these feelings with all of your heart and I want you to lose yourself and I want you to--to just know what it's like. I think this is good that this is happening to you right before you go off to school."
Bessie tried not to think about school. She tried not to think about leaving Tulsa and only coming back during the summer. She tried not to think about being like Millie or Judith. She was has happy and she was relieved that her mother approved of her liking Zac, but--"But, Mama, that stuff that Daddy said at the table--"
"Don't you worry about your father. I think your father forgets how old you are sometimes. He looks at you and he still sees the little girl he used to bounce on his knee and sing nursery rhymes with. He'll come around, it'll just take a little extra time, that's all."
"I hope so," Bessie replied quietly. "Because--because I don't want to stop seeing Zac. I don't ever want to stop seeing him. In fact, I want to see him right now..."
Her mother smiled again. "I know you do, sweetheart. I know. Anyway, I'll leave you to catch up with your cousin. You've had a lot of excitement the past couple of days, I suggest that you stay here and rest tonight. And that you don't make use of that ladder that's outside your window."
And with that, Bessie's mother left the room.
Millie looked at Bessie, wide-eyed, and that caught Bessie off guard. "What's the matter with you?"
"Did you hear what she just said?"
"Of course, I heard everything she said."
"Bessie, she just gave you permission to sneak out and go see Zac."
Bessie furrowed her brow. "No, she didn't. She didn't say anything about that, she said for me to stay in tonight."
"Oh, right. And she didn't just go out of her way to remind you there's a ladder outside your window," Millie retorted sarcastically.
"Well, yeah, but that's only for emergencies in case the house ever catches fire. Remember what one summer when--?"
"No, Bessie!" Millie hissed. "Come on now, you're smarter than that! Sure, your daddy put that out there as a safety precaution but it still works just the same even when there isn't a fire! You're an adult, live a little! You literally can leave this house and go see Zac anytime you want! And you pretty much just got permission for it. Take advantage!"
Bessie's eyes widened as she took in Millie's words. She was right. She was absolutely right. And half the time she slept with her window open anyway, so her parents would never hear her leave. And she didn't have to drive, she could ride her bicycle. But in the dark? Alone? She didn't even know where she was going.
Tempting as the idea was, she shook her head. "Millie, I can't. Not tonight. I--I don't know where I'm going and we only just mended fences and--and I don't want to wear it out, you know? We made plans to see each other tomorrow, we'll just stick with that. I think--I think that's best."
"Well," Millie huffed. "Just don't forget what just happened here. I expect to hear lots of good things out of this little affair." Then she rolled over on her stomach and looked up at Bessie with stars in her eyes. "Oh, Bessie, I'm so happy for you! And you know, we can double date now! Or even triple date with his brothers! You, me, and Judith? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"
Bessie's nerves began to get the best of her again. At the mention of Taylor, she remembered her conversation with him the day before and something wasn't sitting right in her stomach about it. "Let's, um, let's take this one step at a time. I'd like to get to know Zac a little better before we do any, um...group dating..."
"Oh, he held your hand, for crying out loud, you know him enough for that."
"Millie, please."
"Fine," she lamented. Then she smiled again. "But I still want you to tell me everything!"
Bessie grinned and she fell back onto the bed alongside Millie with stars in her eyes. "Oh, Millie, he is so dreamy!"
From there, the cousins talked so long that Millie ended up sleeping over. In spite of herself, as they slept much later on, Bessie found herself waking up through the night and looking toward her open window.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
By the time Zac got home, it was dark outside. After walking Bessie home, he'd walked back to his tree to sit and go over in his head everything that had just happened. Save for the awkward encounter with Judge Harlow along the way, Zac felt good. He sat under the tree with this arms resting on his knees and he looked out over the green and the wildflowers and he breathed in the clean air and he smiled. He felt almost complete.
He couldn't believe she'd allowed him to hold her hand. And he wasn't sure why that was such a big deal to him all of a sudden, seeing as his norm was to do much, much more with a woman and knowing her for much lesser amount of time. But this time...this was different. Everything was different, it felt different. It felt like everything he'd ever known or felt or believed in was...altering somehow. He didn't feel quite the same. It was becoming more and more difficult to find his usual cynical outlook on life when everything about the object of his affection was so pure and good. And the notion that someone so pure and good and beautiful could possibly return his feelings was just...surreal. What had he done to deserve this? What had he done to make someone look at him the way she did? He could see it in her eyes, he could see her sincerity and her honesty. What had he done?
Zac sat at the tree for a couple of hours, he knew, and he dreamed. His dreams were blissful and peaceful and comforting and he smiled as he let his mind wander. Mindlessly tearing blades of grass apart, he smiled into the fresh air, remembering the scent of her hair and feeling her smooth, delicate skin in his hand. By the time he had stood up and brushed his pants off, he had married Bessie, built her a beautiful house with a wrap-around porch and they'd had three beautiful children, all looking exactly like their mother. If this could truly be his future, his happiness would know no bounds.
However, as he made the rest of his way home and stepped onto the grounds of the camp he lived on, reality came crashing down on his shoulders. He could never build Bessie that house. She would never marry him because he would never have the right to ask her. And everything he had just fantasized about was a complete and total wash. He couldn't provide for her. He could barely provide for himself--and sometimes he couldn't even do that. Who was he kidding? He would never be good enough for Bessie Harlow.
Taylor, though. Taylor was a dreamer. He was a serial optimist, always striving to see the good in every situation, no matter how bad it was. Taylor believed that every day was better than the day before and that they weren't at a standstill in their lives, but that they were getting a little closer to the light at the end of the tunnel with each passing day. It was a nice sentiment and Zac wanted to believe it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't reality. Reality was that Zac finally found something that he wanted to better himself for and, yet, he literally had no means to make it happen. There was nothing out there for anyone these days.
Zac couldn't say he was surprised that Taylor was sitting on the steps of the trailer, seemingly waiting up for him when he came home. His face lit up and he smiled when he saw Zac and he scooted over on the step he was sitting on to make room. Taking a seat, Zac pulled his suspenders off of his shoulders and took off his hat, running his hand over his pulled-back hair. "So you waited up, huh?"
"Yeah," Taylor smiled. "How did it go? Did you apologize?"
"Yeah," Zac nodded, his smile bringing the heat to his face. "Yeah, I did."
"And then?"
"And then we had a nice time. It wasn't long enough--"
"Not long enough?" Taylor scoffed. "You've been gone for hours."
"I've been alone for hours. I didn't even get two hours with her, she had to go home."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing, really. We talked a little. Read a little Shakespeare. I held her hand. And I'm taking her to the town social this weekend, so. That's good."
Taylor grinned from ear to ear. "Zac. That's amazing!"
Zac narrowed his eyes and looked at his brother. "Why are you so excited about this?"
Taylor's smile softened. "Because I'm happy for you. I think you really need this."
"I don't know," Zac said, thoughfully. "I just--I want to completely let loose and be happy about this."
"So be happy about it. There's nothing stopping you."
Zac let out a breath and looked at his brother. "Everything is stopping me. Everything is--is different, it's--it's good. I don't know how to accept something that's good. I don't feel like I should."
"Of course you should," his brother said gently. "You deserve to be happy. Everyone does."
"I can't make her happy, Tay. What does she see in me? I have nothing. I am nothing. I'm a former convict who's trying to hold on to something that isn't there anymore. I'm pathetic and she has her entire future ahead of her. All I did was sit here and piss mine away with nothing to show for it."
Taylor sighed and laced his fingers together. "I really wish you'd stop talking yourself out of everything. Stop being so down on yourself. You said so yourself, we're doing better than a lot of people out there--hell, we're faring better than half the gypsies over there. And look at them. They're happy. They've learned to make do with what they have. Happiness isn't material things, Zac. It's not money or houses or cars or--or any of that stuff. It's accepting who you are as a person. And if you don't like who you are, then you need to take a step back and figure out what really makes you happy."
Zac was silent for a moment as he took in Taylor's words. He could be so poetic at times; so insightful. He reminded him of their mother sometimes. "Are you happy?" He asked him.
Taylor glanced down at his hands and then back out into the air. "I don't know."
"Then how can you sit there and preach to me about how to be happy if you're not?"
"I don't--I don't know, I just--I don't know, I've started thinking some for the past day or so. Well, really longer than that, but--something Bessie said to me yesterday has been weighing a little heavy on my mind, I just--I don't know."
Zac guessed it was his natural, possessive quality that made him dislike the sound of Bessie's name leaving Taylor's mouth. But swallowing his disdain, he took a breath and asked him, "What did she say?"
Taylor looked over at his brother. "Millie and I don't talk."
Zac furrowed his brow and his eyes darted around in confusion, maybe partially waiting for Taylor to complete his statement. When he didn't, Zac replied. "That's it?"
"Well--yeah."
"So, what, she comes over and you screw her and she goes home? I didn't realize it was quite that casual."
"No, it's not--I mean, we don't talk. We don't--I shared things with Bessie yesterday that I've never shared with Millie--"
"I don't like where this is going."
"It's not like that, it's like--Bessie is easy to talk to. She listens. Except that I've known Millie for a couple of years now and for as much time as we spend together, we should have talked. Zac, I'm nearly thirty years old. I can't live like that anymore."
Zac scoffed and smiled sarcastically. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious. I'm getting older, I need to--I need to act my age. I need to figure out what I want my life to be. Time's going by way too fast. You know?"
"What are you saying, Tay?"
"That's just it, I don't know what I'm saying. All I know is that I need a change. I just don't know where to start." Then he looked around and leaned in closer to Zac, lowering his voice. "Aishe's kinda been taking care of me a little bit for the past week or so."
"Tay, I don't really need to hear about any of your sexual exploits--"
"No, not like that! Like--she mended my shirt, and she--she did my laundry. She brought me some kind of weird spice to put in my coffee that I actually really like and--Zac, I didn't even ask her to do any of it, she just did it. And she never asked for anything in return and--and she's been really good to me and I'm very appreciative of it and it makes me feel...odd."
Aishe lived on the gypsy camp amongst the gypsies. At twenty-five years old, she came and went, sometimes doing work for wealthy families such as cleaning or nannying or laundering, as she was apparently a very talented laundress. She was a small woman, with dark eyes and shoulder-length dark hair, with light curves and a jovial smile. She wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, but she wasn't terribly unattractive, either. She was kind and her English was better than most of the other gypsies, but she could still be hard to understand at times. That didn't matter, though. She was nice to have around as the rest of her family was, along with the other gypsies.
"It's not like that's the first time a woman's ever volunteered to do anything for you," Zac remarked. "I can't believe some of the things you've allowed women to do for you..."
"Well...that was then. And...and this is now and...and I think I might want to see if there's anything between me and Millie beyond...you know, what we already have."
"Wow," Zac muttered. "I never thought I'd hear you talk like this."
"I never thought I would talk like this."
"I guess times really are changing. For all of us." Then Zac turned around and began to look around, noticing the unusual quiet around them. "Where's Ike?"
Taylor shrugged. "No idea. He left out of here not too long before you showed up."
Zac looked at his brother for a moment in thought. He had to admit, he felt a little bad for Taylor and he felt like he was seeing a side of him he'd never seen before. Apparently there was more to Taylor than was on the surface. He was lonely.
A smile crept across Zac's face as he nudged his brother's shoulder with his own. "You know what I just got the notion to do?"
"What?"
"Last one in the river's a rotten egg."
Taylor grinned and was already stripping off the outer layers of his clothing. "You're not gonna beat me this time. No way!"
Laughing, the two brothers broke into a wide open sprint, into the woods and down the well-traveled paths they knew so well. Sometimes it felt good to let loose and act like a child again. It was moments like this when Zac felt truly blessed to be who he was.