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“High fashion, darling,” Michael said, flicking an ash from the cigar out the carriage window. “You think you've seen beautiful dresses on the Saint Louis women? Just you wait until I'm finished with the ones I will have designed. Models from all over the country will flock to Saint Louis just to have the opportunity of wearing Michael Hopper's fashions. Yep, that's what is in my future.”
Maria scowled, envisioning Michael's coming face to face with many beautiful women each day. Jealousy stung her insides. And Michael thought she would sit home having babies? He would see just how wrong he was! She set her jaw firmly, thumping her fingers nervously on her lap. She had plans of her own. She would enter into politics and see to it that all women had the same rights as men. She had seen enough of rights being kept from people. Hawkinsville had shown her enough of this kind of life. She would never feel as though she was in bondage again. Not in marriage . . . and not in life.
She would study the laws of the land, and then she would show everyone that women could speak out about women's rights and slavery of all kinds. Maria had just recently heard about a Susan B. Anthony and her leadership of a women's suffrage movement. Maria wanted to be more like her. Maria wanted to be a part of fighting for these rights being spoken of all over the country.
She sighed leisurely, knowing that would come. Yes, that would come. But for now, she would just enjoy the day at hand. She gazed out the carriage window, seeing people entering and exiting the famous French pastry shops of the city, and then she was all eyes when the carriage carried her and Michael on past the grand Union Station where trains stood lined up beneath a large roof both day and night. This building that reached up into the sky was an architectural marvel, as were the buildings that Michael had told her about that she would soon see when they arrived at the World's Fair grounds.
“You've suddenly turned quiet, darling,” Michael said, leaning next to her, taking her hand in his.
“This city,” she sighed. “It is so beautiful. There is nothing like it in Italy. I just know it.”
Michael laughed hoarsely. “Yes, there is,” he said. “It's only because you never got any further than that town of Pordenone. Ah, Rome. One day we will go there. I will take you back to your country and show you what you were unable to see as a child.”
Maria frowned. “Not by ship,” she said stubbornly. “I shall never forget that ship that brought me from Italy.”
“Darling, when we travel to Italy, it will be on a luxury liner,” he said, patting her hand fondly. “It will be the same as in a luxurious hotel. You won't even know you are on the water.”
“I can't believe there could be such a ship,” she sighed, eyes wide.
“You've much to see and learn,” Michael chuckled, flipping his cigar from the window. “And we will begin now. I believe the carriage has arrived at the fair.”
When Michael reached around and opened the door for Maria, she let out a loud gasp, seeing so much already. The crowds were thick and everyone was attired fancily in their best hats, suits, and dresses. Aided by the coachman, Maria stepped from the carriage onto a red carpet that had been spread from the curbing to the entranceway of the fair, where all fancier carriages moved to a halt, discharging the most elite of
passengers.
Maria's eyes moved upward. She let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth with her hands. “My word,” she said. “What is .. . that.. . Michael?”
Michael's gaze followed Maria's, hiding his eyes from the rays of the sun with the back of a hand. “My God,” he exclaimed. “They've succeeded at getting that damn thing up into the sky. That's some of my union associates. They bought that contraption for this occa-sion.” He laughed hoarsely. “See what's written on the balloon's side?”
Maria read “United Mine Workers of America.”
“But it's so fascinating,” she said. “How does such a balloon … as you called it. .. get up into the air? And aren't the men afraid they might fall out of that flimsy-looking basket, or that the balloon might just suddenly drop from the sky?”
“Darling, that's a hydrogen balloon. The balloon is able to rise because the gas inside the bag is much lighter than the air around it,” he said, guiding her onward. “If you will notice, my friends were not brave enough to let the balloon fly itself. You do see the rope securing the balloon to the ground.”
“I would hope so,” she sighed, looking on ahead. “What shall we see first, Michael?” she added, feeling excitement rippling through her.
“We can't see it all in one day,” he said. “But we shall start at the Sunken Gardens.”
Michael guided Maria down steps that led to a richly planted parterre. A graceful slope of fine turf that was a combination of color and charming design spread out before the eye. The scene was kaleidoscopic, the colored bits of flowers seeming to change patterns constantly. The aroma was like a mixture of different perfumes combined.
Maria's eyes couldn't move fast enough to take it all in. “I believe I've walked into heaven, Michael,” she sighed. She leaned down and sniffed at one flower then the next, and then Michael guided her on to the next unique display. This was the area of the fairgrounds that was called “The Pike.” It was a long, wide street of large amusement concessions.
Maria and Michael clung to one another, laughing, as they passed the “Temple of Mirth,” went into the
“Jungle of Mirrors,” where they saw many of themselves staring back at them, then on to “Hagenbeck's Wild Animal Show,” where every kind of animal could be found walking stealthily back and forth behind fenced-in areas.
“I don't think I've ever had so much fun in my entire life, Michael,” Maria purred as Michael purchased a swirl of pink candy floss from a vendor and handed it to her. She set her teeth into it, laughing as it seemed to melt onto her tongue, then swallowed the sweetness.
“I don't think you'd get too fat eating that,” Michael laughed, buying himself an ice cream sandwich from another vendor.
They moved on past two more exhibitions, where the announcement sign stated that a young Irish tenor, John McCormack, was singing in one, and a comedian named Will Rogers performing in the other.
Michael nodded with his head toward a tent with a red-and-white-striped covering. “And under that tent, they boast of some new invention called the hot dog, and a cool drink called iced tea,” Michael said, licking his lips as he swallowed the last of his ice cream sandwich. He reached inside his pocket and pulled a cigar out. He placed it in his mouth and lit it.
“Hot dog?” Maria giggled. “Such a strange name. Surely it isn't… a thing . . . made from a dog .. . ?”
Michael doubled over with laugher. “No, my dear,” he said. “It is something quite good made of a mixture of pork and beef. Before we leave this day, we will try it. Maybe have it for our lunch.”
