"Surprised?" Shawn asked with a twitch of his eyebrow.
"I did think you might make the army your career. Look at you" — she grinned, pointing to the three-stripe chevron on his sleeve — "you’re a sergeant already."
"No, I’ve done my hitch. I’m enrolling in law school right here in the city and be the best damn lawyer east of the Mississippi." He winked. "And earn piles of money defending anyone with the greenbacks to pay. You’ll have plenty of new dresses then, Laura."
Did that last statement mean what she thought it did? Did this handsome, carefree soldier sitting across from her really love her? She wanted to ask him what he meant but instead said, "You’ll be a good lawyer, Shawn." And he would, too, but somehow she wished he’d not worry so much about fees. He should be more concerned with people that needed his help, regardless of how many greenbacks were offered to him. Her thoughts turned to the suffragists who had been arrested. Doubtless they’d still be in prison if it hadn’t been for lawyers who donated their time and energy to free them. Well, she had to be practical and realize that Shawn would no doubt become a prominent, wealthy Washington lawyer and magnanimous only when it suited his purposes.
The sun’s slanting rays caused her to ask Shawn the time.
"Holy smoke! It’s almost six!" He jumped up, offering her his hand. "We’ve been here almost two hours, and I’m to report to General Long, and you’re to report to General Paul!" His eyes twinkled, and she smiled back at him. They did have fun together, even if they didn’t always agree.
As they parted company she thought of the two events Shawn would take her to — the White House tour and an officers' dance. Silently she vowed to keep those two engagements with him, no matter how many rallies Miss Paul called.
Chapter Fourteen
With a last glance back at Shawn, Laura turned down Pennsylvania Avenue, loving the wide street with the tall trees lining either side. In the distance the pristine whiteness of the White House shone in the sunset. The sidewalks were crowded with people, but there was little doubt that it was wartime. She passed three women in YWCA outfits, a group of sailors who doffed their caps in elaborate exaggeration in her direction, several army officers followed by a navy officer whose uniform was festooned with gold braid. On the street a line of supply trucks rattled by.
A newsboy thrust the Washington Post in her face, but she shook her head, walking faster. However, the glimpse at the newspaper’s headline — U-BOATS TORPEDO 30 SHIPS THIS MONTH — made her buoyant spirits sag a little. The killing continued, and the Germans seemed stronger than ever, winning one battle after another throughout France. Despite Michael’s assurances that the Germans would never cross the Marne River, she was not so positive.
A contingent of Red Cross nurses jostled her. As they swept by, laughing and chatting, she wondered if their smiles would be quite so wide if she were wearing a yellow sash across her dark blouse.
The tower clock struck six, and she broke into a run. How could time slip by so fast?
As she walked through the corridor of the mansion with its noise and bustle and the constant clacking of typewriters, several secretaries nodded and smiled at her. Laura was pleased, for she was becoming known. Her loyalty, and always doing her job and attending rallies, had paid off.
Dashing past the switchboard operator and the Press Room, she headed to the rear of the house.
Entering the kitchen, she fastened on her Votes-for-Women ribbon and began filling the vacuum bottles with coffee.
"Ah, Laura, I was afraid you might not come tonight," Lucy Burns said as she poured two cups of tea. "I’d heard you might be expelled from school."
"Mr. Cole, my principal, gave me a reprieve," Laura said with a shy smile, for this woman was one of the main leaders in the Women’s Party, second only to Alice Paul, and though she’d heard Lucy Burns speak, she’d never had a conversation with her.
"I’m glad you can stay in school. We need more women in the professions," Lucy said firmly, looking down at Laura. She was a tall woman, and her rolled-up shirtsleeves, held in place by an elastic garter around her upper arm, showed she was quite muscular and physically fit. "When we were in prison, we demanded to be examined by women doctors, not that they sent us any."
Placing the two cups on a tray, Lucy reached for a large jar. "Alice and I need a molasses cookie before we go out on the line." She glanced at Laura. "You do plan to go to college, don’t you?"
"Yes," she responded without a second thought. It was as natural as if Lucy had asked if she had planned to go on breathing. She hadn’t really thought about college, not since that day when she had burned the blueprints. It was as if from that day on she wasn’t concerned about her future. Now, talking to Lucy Burns, this staunch ally of Alice Paul, she wanted to be a professional, maybe a doctor like Joe.
"Are there many women doctors?" she asked curiously.
"Very few." Lucy’s lips tightened.
Nibbling a cookie, Lucy leaned against the counter, shaking her head. "Alice is tired and run-down. I’m anxious for her. She’s worried about the arrests."
Laura knew that Lucy had the reputation of the eternal optimist while Alice was the pessimist. Lucy’s good spirits were known throughout the Party, even when she had served her sentence at Occoquan Workhouse. "How many arrests have there been?"
"We’ve had thirty this week, but they’re a token," Lucy said grimly. "Chief Bentley knows it and we know it."
"Then why does he do it?"
"He’s a vindictive little man. After our seven months in prison we were released by a court order. Since then we’ve filed sixteen suits against the government for arresting us and we’ve won." Abruptly she laughed, slapping the kitchen countertop with the flat of her hand. "Those court sessions were worth all the money we’ve collected. It gave us an open forum for our views, and believe me, we expressed them loud and clear."
Laura was puzzled. "Doesn’t Chief Bentley know he can’t hold us?"
"Oh," Lucie said, chortling, "he knows all right, but he’s determined to harass us and push us as far as he can. I think our eternal vigils at the White House have infuriated him, and he means to show us that we can’t upset his city. After what we’ve been through, does he think we’ll stop now?"
''I admire you for your time in prison," Laura said hesitantly. "I know it was awful because I’ve been reading Ada Kendall’s journal."
"It wasn’t pleasant, but we gave each other strength. See this?" Lucy pointed to a silver pin, a tiny replica of cell doors, on her collar. "When we were set free, a mass rally was held at the Belasco Theater, and we were each presented with a pin like this." She tapped it proudly with her forefinger. "Just over eighty-six thousand dollars was raised in our behalf, and they dubbed us prisoners of freedom." She chuckled. "We had other names, too. The other inmates called us the Strange Ladies."
Laura marveled that this raw-boned leader had spent so much time talking with her. What she said made sense. Indeed, she wouldn’t give up. Maybe, just maybe, she could do something with her life that would help women like Lucy Burns and Alice Paul. If she could serve such great women her life might be worth something. She smiled. There would be years to figure out her life. Who knows, she thought bitterly, maybe she’d still be on the picket line in years to come. Surely not. But she’d never leave here until the nineteenth amendment had been passed, that was certain! Never. She grasped the vacuum bottle and with firm steps hurried out to the pickets.