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A ray of sunshine, that was what the others liked to think of Tabitha "Bee" Sandler. The girl always had a smile to brighten their days, kind words to comfort those who had lost sight of hope, and in times of great tension, the girl even did her best to crack a joke or two, never mind if she was woefully bad at it. Indeed, that flaw of hers was what usually succeeded in cooling everyone's tempers down. How could one stay mad, after all, when someone managed to hilariously mess up something as simple as a knock-knock joke?
A ray of sunshine, that she was, but some also thought of her as their town's little Job, the Old Testament prophet whom Satan cursed and plagued in his quest to prove that Man could and would always turn away from God in the face of adversity.
But Job did not. He had stayed faithful, and so had their own little Job.
Once the carefree and lovingly pampered daughter of a young, hardworking couple, the first of many tragedies had befallen Bee when she was eleven, and an unsolved hit-and-run claimed the lives of her parents. And although Bee's beloved Great Aunt Lily readily took her in, misfortune made the girl's second chance at happiness rather short-lived. What was supposed to be a routine checkup at the office revealed the very worst: Lily had cancer, and whatever savings the older woman had were instantly wiped away by costly medications and treatments.
At sixteen, Bee - in spite of her bedridden aunt's pleas to the contrary - had quit high school and started working at the largest factory in town. But three years had only passed when her great aunt passed away, and Bee was all alone.
But still she remained a ray of sunshine, doing what she could to care and help, and treating the folks at the factory as her extended family. She insisted on babysitting for free, saying that having fun with kids was enough compensation, and when Old George fell and broke his ankle, Bee had cheerfully cooked meals and kept house for him until he was back on his feet.
Their beloved ray of sunshine, that what what she was to all of them, and it was also why everyone at the factory were struggling with tears and impotent rage as they watched her run out of the manager's office, clutching her torn blouse to her chest.
For their little ray of sunshine, they would've fought and to hell with the consequences. To hell with losing their jobs. To hell with everything. But because their little Bee was what she was, she had shaken her head, her eyes pleading with them in tearful silence.
I wouldn't be able to bear it if anyone of you lost your jobs because of me.
And so they let her go, their little ray of sunshine fading before their eyes, and their hearts breaking piece by piece as she disappeared from view.
****
WAKE UP AT SIX, SHOWER, and breakfast. Be at work by seven and clock out at six. Work on a variety of errands until seven or eight, and then it was home until it was time to leave again and start another cycle of her daily routine.
With the exception of attending mass every Sunday, that had been Bee's life for over seven years now, and not once had it occurred to her to complain to God. Having inherited her parents' good-natured disposition and cheerful tolerance, Bee didn't find it hard at all to shrug off every problem that came her way. She cried over some of it, of course, but after that, she simply took it day by day, believing that moving on was both a choice and an inevitable outcome.
The only guilty pleasure she allowed herself all these years were her mail-order bride romances, used paperbacks that a co-worker at the factory bought for her every time she went to visit her daughter in the city.
There was just something wildly inspiring and romantic about a woman gambling everything for love, and every time life started getting to her, Bee would simply close her eyes and deliberately lose herself in a fantasy based on her favorite books.
It worked every time, or at least it did...until now.
Bee was a trembling, weeping mess as she sat on her bed, skin still crawling at the memory of Horace Garris' large, sweaty hands pawing at her and his slobbering mouth leaving a disgustingly wet trail on the side of her neck. She had only managed to tear herself out of his arms by kneeing him but not before he had ripped her blouse open and leave her exposed.
He had screamed invectives in between his groans of pain, threatening to have her fired and arrested if she didn't show him respect.
A choked sob escaped Bee as she remembered this. Self-respect was all she had, and she just couldn't let someone like Horace take that away from her.
****
THE LIBRARIAN SMILED in welcome when Bee came in and asked if she could use of the computers. "Of course, dear." Emily made no mention of Bee's noticeably swollen eyes and too-bright smile. News traveled fast, and while the rich folks believed in Horace's version of the story - she's a slut, wanted me to pay before I tried out the goods, then cried rape when I said I'm no idiot like the boys she fooled around with - Emily and her kind knew better. They had all noticed Horace's interest in Bee from the very start. Bee might be a little plain, but even at sixteen she had already possessed a full figure, and while years of too much work and too little food had left her painfully thin, this had only served to emphasize the girl's voluptuous abundance.
Sympathy squeezed the librarian's heart as she turned to where Bee sat, with the girl's frowning gaze focused on the monitor before her. Poor girl, Emily thought. While no one would have wished for Horace to attack Bee that way, maybe it was the final push the girl needed to leave their town for good.
Unknown to Emily, similar thoughts were already going through Bee's head. She had come to the library to access her email, and more importantly, answer the latest mail from Danny.
Their correspondence had begun when a marketing email arrived at her inbox three months ago. It was from a matchmaking agency that specialized, of all things, in mail order marriages. It had seemed too much of a coincidence, but then after a bit of research, she found out that Google, Facebook, and the likes had a way of utilizing user data to come up with targeted advertising. So maybe, her interest in mail order bride romances was the reason she had gotten such an email?
After a bit more online snooping, she had signed up for an account, seeing that the website had promised complete anonymity and wouldn't even require her to send a photo. All it wanted was a description of her profile and a short explanation of what she was looking for in a marriage.
A month after registration, she had gotten an email from an eighteen-year-old university student named Daniel. They had exchanged almost daily emails since then, with the younger boy, whom she liked to call Danny, constantly entertaining her with funny little anecdotes about ranch life.
You'll love it here, Bee. Just say the word, and Dad will have the papers ready. You'll be my new mom, you'll be married to Dad, and we'll all live happily ever after.
It had all sounded too good to be true, and even as poor, lonely, and desperate as she were, Bee had been unable to let go of all her fears and worries. Common sense had warned her about the whole thing being a scam, and every day, she had struggled against the urge to write back to Danny and say, Yes.
But everything had changed now.
Everything.
She had seen how the wealthier folks in town had started looking at her, the looks of disgust and contempt that they threw her way. It was clear as the light of day that Horace hadn't wasted any time spreading lies about her, and they had all chosen to believe him without even asking for her side of the story.
Bee knew she could lodge a complaint against the factory manager, and that to do so was the right thing to do.
But if she did that, it would mean having to stay and fight, see things through until the end. And she didn't think she could bear staying another day in this town.
It was time to move on, Bee told herself as she began to type her reply.
Dear Danny,
I know this will likely come a surprise, a pleasnt one I hope...