She paused, thinking that this 1859 sentiment was just as relevant in 1918. There were so many good things in her life, such as love and the suffragists, yet so many bad things, such as the war.
"Is that as far as you’re going to read?" Mrs. Lawrence asked wryly, smoothing the covers.
"Sorry," she muttered with a small smile, and continued.
After Mrs. Lawrence had drifted off to sleep Laura quietly made her way downstairs.
By September the women had recovered from their imprisonment and Laura was back in school. Her senior year promised to be a good one, for she liked all her courses and her teachers. Miss Emerson was her adviser and the only time she saw Mr. Blair was in the halls or the main office, which suited her just fine.
On Friday, walking home from school, the sky was as azure blue as Shawn’s eyes. The only clouds in the distance were fleecy white, but there were gray clouds on her horizon, and they made her fearful. There were cases of the flu being reported in D.C. now.
However, her heart lifted along with the breeze that blew through her hair when she thought of tomorrow, for Joe would be back from Fort Myer on a weekend pass. She smiled. Dear Joe. She longed to talk to him about her teachers, the suffragist meetings, and just… everything. How she had missed him! Even if she hadn’t seen him as frequently in the past few months, still knowing that he was there gave her a good, safe feeling. Her muddled feelings were so frustrating. Perhaps when Joe came home she’d be better able to sort out her emotions.
Tomorrow she planned to visit the Menottis' store and hoped he would ask her out. Just for old times' sake. She was disappointed that he hadn’t called to ask her to the movies or for a picnic by the river, but perhaps it wasn’t too late. She had deliberately not made a date with Shawn so she could be with Joe. She breathed in the honeysuckle and thought how much Joe would like going to the zoo and a picnic.
Right now, however, she was on her way to a protest meeting at the Lafayette monument.
When Laura reached Lafayette Square, she stopped short, for there at the base of the statue was Alice Paul and Lucy Burns. She also recognized Julia Emory holding a flaming torch. What was happening? she wondered. There was an expectant edginess to the forty or so women assembled.
Alice had climbed up and stood directly beneath the statue of the Marquis de Lafayette. "Ladies! We’ve heard many speeches about how we need the same freedom that Lafayette helped to bring to this country, but as yet this freedom has been denied to women!" She looked around calmly, but beneath her serenity was an indomitable spirit that fairly radiated from her small face. "And so it is time to do something that President Wilson will listen to!" Her tone was firm and her eyes like steel.
The women, never taking their eyes from her face, stood silently waiting for their leader to proceed.
"We have just learned from Senator Overman that the Senate has no intention of presenting our bill this session…."
There were grumblings and the shuffling of restless feet.
"Here, ladies, are the words that President Wilson spoke to our delegation this morning!" She turned slightly to a tall woman next to Julia Emory, who immediately held up a sheaf of papers.
Without a moment’s hesitation she took the torch from Julia Emory and touched it to Wilson’s speech, sending the papers up in smoke.
Laura gasped. The President’s words were being burned. If nothing else, this would make the people and the President open their eyes in astonishment.
Alice Paul ground beneath her heel a piece of the charred paper. "We want action, not words! From now on," Alice continued smoothly, "the President’s speeches will be burned in front of the White House. We will guard an urn with a perpetual flame!"
Laura then broke into a cheer along with everyone present. How dramatic! She just hoped that more arrests wouldn’t be forthcoming as a result of this action.
But there were no arrests. Indeed, the very next day Senator Jones introduced the suffrage amendment in the Senate, and the discussion began. It remained to be seen when the vote would be taken. Laura, however, was more concerned with seeing the Menottis and Joe, for today Joe was home. Her excitement was evident as she tried to capture her thick masses of hair with a large pink bow at the nape of her neck. Twice she had tried it and twice it was crooked, but the third time it stood out crisply. She gave herself a final look in the mirror and approved of what she saw. Her pastel pink blouse and her hobbled skirt gave her a grown-up air. Her nose, straight and well formed; her wide, big green eyes; and the loose hair falling gently around her face gave her a more sophisticated look than Joe had seen before. She looked closer into the mirror, and her smile was slightly impish. As she stepped back she staggered. Drat these narrow hobble skirts. They might be extremely fashionable, but she didn’t much like her stride being hampered. Taking small, mincing steps was not her style.
Nonetheless, she felt like quite the coquette as she hobbled into the store. Aldo, on a stepladder, stacked tins of tuna on the shelf as Bertina handed them to him.
When the bell jangled above the door, they both saw Laura at the same time, and Bertina rushed over, holding out her arms.
Aldo, for all his bulk, stepped down quickly.
"Tressora!" Aldo boomed.
Bertina hugged her, then kissed both cheeks. She stepped back, surveying Laura, and nodding her approval. "You look beautiful, ma bambina. Beautiful!" She rolled her eyes. "You wear latest style, eh?" She examined the long skirt with a slit up the front, then blew her a kiss.
Beaming, Aldo swaggered forward, smoothing his thick mustache. "Still too skinny! You eat something?"
"No, thanks." She chuckled. "I just finished breakfast." Casually she glanced around. "Is Joe here?"
"We tell him to sleep late," Aldo said. "The bugler get him up too early. No bugler here."
"He come to shop soon. You sit." Bertina indicated a barrel. "Sit and wait, yes?"
"Can’t I help you?" Laura asked.
"In that skirt?" Aldo’s laugh reverberated throughout the store. "Too tight for working."
"Ah. Sardino! What you know, eh? We go back to work." Bertina turned and smiled. "Sit, Laura."
Just then the bell tinkled again, and Laura wheeled around, almost upsetting herself.
"Careful," Joe cautioned, running to catch her. He held her in his arms, and they both burst out laughing.
"If it isn’t Laura — my little girl all dressed up in the latest fashion," he teased.
"Joe Menotti! If it isn’t the grocery boy in a U.S. Army uniform!" Her face was as pink as her blouse. "It’s — it’s good to see you," she said, all at once very flustered.
He grinned, still holding her hand. His straight black hair had been cut so that it stood up like barbed wire. He was tanner; his black eyes sparkled.
She hoped the sparkle was brought about by the sight of her. She knew the glow she felt was brought about by his presence. Was she in love with Joe?
"Hey, Papa, want some help?" Joe called, looking beyond her to his parents.
"No, no. You talk to our long-lost girl."
He turned back and sat across from her. "How’s school?"
"Fine. My history teacher is super." She laughed and nervously touched her hair ribbon. "Not at all like Mr. Blair."
"And the suffragists?" His grin widened.
She drummed her feet against the barrel. "That’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it when you’ve got an hour." She smiled mischievously. There, she thought, that should give him the opening to ask her out. How handsome he looked in his smart uniform, which fit his tall, slender figure to perfection.