The matron snorted. "She’s in with her own kind — those infernal suffragists. If you call them hardened criminals, then she’s in with the worst!" She grasped Laura’s upper arm. "Come on, missy."
Sarah ran up and kissed her. "We’ll keep working to get you out. Our next stop is Miss Zacks’s law office." Then she leaned close and whispered, "Shawn will be here tomorrow."
Laura smiled. "I’m glad," she said in a low voice, giving Joe a sidelong glance. She didn’t know why she was being secretive. Joe knew about Shawn, and it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, she wished he would show a twinge of jealousy, just a twinge once in a while, but he didn’t.
The matron’s fingers dug into her arm and, with a rough tug, pulled her along. Laura winced, for a tongue of flame burst across her shoulder blade.
As she allowed herself to be led away, she turned and blew first Joe a kiss, then her mother and Sarah.
The clanging of the corridor’s iron door sounded so final, and she drew back in front of her cell and halted.
"Hey, missy!" the matron rasped. "None of that!" With a yank she moved her forward. "Don’t give me any trouble!"
Anger exploded within Laura against this bully, and she wheeled about, confronting her. "Leave me alone," she said between clenched teeth. "My shoulder is black and blue, and you’re hurting me."
Immediately the matron released her arm. "All right, but don’t try any funny stuff!"
Amazed, Laura stared at her. It was as if the matron was afraid to touch her. Then Laura smiled. Now she knew the reason. There had been too much national attention focused on the suffragists' treatment in jail. A little spunk, rubbing her arm, and standing up for her rights, thought Laura, caused this woman to let go of her arm.
Opening the cell door, the matron glowered at her but didn’t touch her again. "In with you," she snarled.
Once the cell doors shut, Laura sank down on the cot. The day stretched interminably ahead.
The long hours dragged by, and she still couldn’t bring herself to touch her food. She glanced at Mrs. Lewis and Rowena, who were eating their bread. The corridor was very quiet. How frustrating not to be able to speak to one another! The silent corridor with its long shadows appeared ominous and eerie.
Later, when the lights were turned off, she stood on tiptoe on the cot’s edge to peer through the bars. The Capitol dome shone in the streetlights. Bitterness flooded through her. The dome was the symbol of freedom, democracy, justice! Words, words, and more words. They meant nothing.
Saturday night was almost gone, and there had been no messages all day.
Throwing herself on the cot, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Was it all a hideous nightmare ? Would she wake up tomorrow in her own bed? But as she stared at a roach skittering across the wall, the bars throwing black stripes along the moonlit wall, she knew this was real.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday’s subdued morning light filtered through the rain-streaked windowpane, but the steady patter didn’t diminish her spirits. Today, please God, she would be released.
Although she was starving, she hadn’t touched her breakfast gruel. She couldn’t. If Alice and Lucy could go on a three-week hunger strike, she could manage without food for two days! Her bruised collarbone was a constant, dull throb. Nonetheless, she knew it wasn’t broken. Her spirits lifted even more when she thought of this afternoon and Shawn’s arrival. She was eager to see him and tried to look as clean as she could under the circumstances. She splashed water on her face, combed her thick hair, then re-braided it. Her gray gown was wrinkled, and the coarseness was scratchy against her skin. She wriggled, feeling like such a clod in it. What she wouldn’t give to scrub every inch of herself in a sudsy bath and then wash her hair. Still and all, she was able to smile at Rowena and Mrs. Lewis across the way.
When lunch came, she ate a few bits of the stale bread, then began her constant watch toward the corridor door. Surely the matron would come any minute and tell her Shawn was here. Visiting hours were over at three, so he had to come soon.
Two o’clock and still no Shawn. She lay down, her spirits plummeting. Had he forgotten her?
Just as she’d almost given up hope, the frowning matron, without a word, unlocked her cell door and jerked her head toward the waiting room, saying gruffly, "You’ve got someone waiting."
Her heart soared. As she hurried to the visitor’s room she looked around and there he was, leaning nonchalantly against a chair. The khaki uniform he wore fit him as if a tailor had measured him first, and the match-leggings were neatly wrapped around his muscular legs. His brown hair was in perfect waves, and his blue eyes danced as he stood with his hands on his hips, surveying her. "I don’t know," he said, teasing. "Is this my Laura of the cascading hair?" He moved closer, pretending to inspect her, lifting a braid and letting it fall across her breast.
She smiled feebly. She knew she looked awful, but she had worked hard to make herself presentable.
"Oh, Shawn," she murmured, moving into his comfortable arms.
He stroked her head, holding her tighter.
"Ouch," she whispered.
"What’s wrong?"
She smiled ruefully. "When I was arrested, the policeman hit me with his nightstick, and my shoulder is still sore."
He shook his head, holding her more tenderly. "Laura, my poor Laura."
She muttered against his rough-grained wool jacket, "I thought I’d be home by today."
"Isn’t this home?" he said dryly. "The suffragists seem to inhabit this district jail more than anyone else!"
She stepped back, her blood rising, but she was too weary to fight with him. "We’ll be here as long as it takes," she responded quietly as she moved out of his arms and sat in a straight-backed chair.
"And what about school?" His eyebrows lifted, and he drew up a chair, straddling the seat with his arms resting on the chair back.
Crossing her ankles, she sat with her eyes cast down. "I don’t know just what I’ll do if I’m thrown out of school, but I’ve been weighing my options." She looked up and met his eyes unflinchingly. "I may work full-time at National Headquarters."
Abruptly Shawn pushed his chair forward and walked around the room, hands in his pockets. "I don’t know how you could get yourself into this mess. The suffragists are no good for you, Laura. Get out of their organization before they ruin you!" He stopped and watched her reaction, but she kept her face immobile. Shawn continued. "You’ve been beaten with a nightstick; you’ve landed in jail; you’ve been near expulsion; and in all likelihood you’ll be kicked out of school; and you still talk of helping these crazy women!"
Stricken, she could only stare at him.
Shawn stopped pacing and confronted her, his dark blue eyes probing and intent. "When you’re let out of here, and you will be soon, I promise you, I want you to relax for a while. Stop going to your motorcade drills, too. You can’t win the war or win the ballot single-handed!" His voice softened, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, bringing her face near his. "I love you, Laura. I want to take care of you. Don’t you want that?"
She gazed into his searching eyes as if mesmerized, and a smile spread across her face. His words sounded wonderful — he was wonderful, like a safe haven, and if she ever needed taking care of, it was now!
He smiled, bent his head, and kissed her.
His lips were sweet and lingering. How pleasant it was to lean against him and let him handle her problems. She needed him, she thought, as her arm slid around his neck, pressing her hand against the nape of his neck.