A Lady's Choice

by Sandra Robbins

  Alex rose. “So you’re getting married? Do I know her?”

  “No, I met her when I started attending church here. How about you? Any woman in your life?”

  Alex shook his head. “I’m afraid not, but I’m happy for you.”

  Will stepped into the aisle. “I’ll see you later.”

  Alex nodded and watched his friend rush up the aisle and out of the church before he sank back down in the pew. He’d tried to get up his nerve ever since returning to Memphis to go see Sarah, but he hadn’t been able to yet. There were things he needed to say to her, to apologize for, but he still hadn’t come to grips with her need to pursue her cause. Maybe in time he would.

  He bowed his head and prayed for God to give him guidance in how to approach Sarah.

  Sarah knew she would always remember this moment—7:00 p.m. on the first day of spring in 1917. She wanted to stand up and shout, but she doubted if her legs would support her. Her hands clenched the edge of the sofa cushion, and she stared up at Mrs. Simpson and Roger, who faced her with their backs to the fireplace.

  A smile pulled at Roger’s lips. “You look stunned, my dear.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Roger laughed out loud, and Mrs. Simpson dropped down on the sofa next to her. “We are.”

  Sarah slowly looked from one to the other. “We’re going to Washington next week?”

  Roger nodded. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “B–but how… I mean, school won’t be out for two more months. How can we just leave?”

  Roger sat down on the other side of Sarah and turned to face her. “I know this is sooner than we’d planned, but there’s a reason. As you know, Alice Paul and some of her workers had been meeting with President Wilson every week to press our case for enfranchisement. Those talks came to an end in January, and Miss Paul is now planning her next course of action. The executive board of our group met this afternoon, and we decided we couldn’t wait any longer to send her aid. Everybody on the committee had other commitments until the summer, so I told them we would work out something so we could go.”

  Sarah thought of the girls in her class and the boarders she supervised. How could she walk away and leave them? “But you haven’t said what we’ll do about school. What about my classes?”

  Mrs. Simpson reached over and clasped Sarah’s hand. “You know how much this school means to me. I’ve worked hard to build it into one of the best schools in the city. But I look at the young girls here, and I have another obligation to them. I don’t want them to leave here with a good education and still be second-class citizens because they can’t vote. I can get a teacher to cover your classes for the rest of the year. I don’t think I can find anyone else better than you to work for their right to enter the voting booth.”

  Mrs. Simpson’s words humbled Sarah, and she reached over and hugged the woman who had played such an important role in her life. “Thank you, Mrs. Simpson. My parents wanted me to attend school here because they knew you shared their dream. They would be so happy to know you’re giving me this opportunity.”

  Roger leaned closer and smiled. “But there’s more, my dear. As you know, we’re having a big rally at the Orpheum Theater on Saturday night. The committee wants you to be one of the speakers.”

  “Me?” Sarah’s voice rose to a high pitch. “Why?”

  “They want to introduce the young girl who is taking our fight to Washington. You do know you’ll probably be one of the youngest women working with Alice Paul, don’t you?”

  The breath almost left Sarah’s body as she thought of Alice Paul, the Hicksite Quaker who had been raised to believe in gender equality. To catch a glimpse of her would have been more than Sarah could have hoped for, but to work alongside her was like a dream come true. “I’ll do whatever I can to support Miss Paul in her quest for recognition of women across this country.”

  Mrs. Simpson smiled and patted Sarah’s arm. “We know you will. Now, since your dear mother is no longer with us, I feel it is my duty to go as your chaperone to Washington.” She arched an eyebrow in Roger’s direction. “And Roger feels that he must go and watch over the two women in his life. I’ve already spoken to Miss Abercrombie, the assistant headmistress, about taking over my duties until the end of the year. So we can leave next week.”

  Sarah turned to Roger. “Can you leave work?”

  He laughed. “My cotton brokerage and the school almost run without me anyway. Besides, I want to spend some time with members of Congress and see if can’t influence some of them to our way of thinking.”

  “Do we know where we’ll be staying?”

  Roger stood up and walked back to the fireplace. “I called a friend of mine in Washington, and he gave me the number of a Realtor. I’ll get in touch with him tomorrow. I want you two to have a house, but I’ll probably stay at a nearby hotel and take my meals with you. I thought we could take Dora to cook and clean for you.”

  Mrs. Simpson stood up, walked to her nephew, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You think of everything, darling.”

  “I try, Aunt Edna. I only want to make life easier for you and Sarah.”

  Aunt Edna smiled up at him. “You do every day.” She glanced back at Sarah. “Now I think I’ll go up to my room. You two can continue to plan our great adventure, but I think I’ll get ready for bed.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Simpson.” Sarah stood and watched her leave the room before she turned back to Roger. “I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, Roger. How will I ever repay all your kindness?”

  He took a step toward her. “I don’t want any repayment, Sarah. Surely you know I’d do anything for you. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

  She recoiled from the words she’d hoped he would never say to her. She swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure. “Roger, please don’t say that. You are my dear friend, and we share friendship and a commitment to a common goal. But I don’t think of you like a woman should think about the man she’ll marry. In fact, I doubt if I’ll ever marry.”

  His eyes darkened, and he doubled his fists at his sides. “Is it that farmer you met last summer? Is he the reason you don’t want to marry me?”

  She lifted her chin and stared into his eyes. “First of all, Alex is a lawyer, and I don’t like the tone of your voice when you speak of farmers. I met some wonderful people last summer who were farmers, and they were very good to my mother and me.”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Why won’t you marry me?”

  “Marriage should be based on love, and I don’t love you.”

  He studied her for a moment. Then he walked toward her, put his finger under her chin, and tilted her face up to look at him. “I love you enough to make up for how you feel. I know I can change your mind, and I will. I’m used to getting what I want, and you’re going to marry me.”

  “Roger, please…”

  “Hush.” He put his index finger on her lips. “You will change your mind, and you will be my wife.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Then he turned and walked out the door. Sarah stood frozen in place until the front door closed. She dropped down on the couch and clasped her hands around her waist.

  What was she going to do? Roger seemed certain he could persuade her, and she was just as determined he wouldn’t. Maybe this trip to Washington was coming at a good time. Her volunteer work at Alice Paul’s headquarters would give her the perfect excuse for staying away from him. In time he would come to see there was no hope for changing her mind.

  At least that’s what she hoped would happen.

  From the minute he saw the article in the newspaper that Sarah would be addressing Memphis suffrage supporters at the Orpheum Theater on Saturday night, Alex knew he would be in attendance. He pulled his watch from his pocket and glanced at it then back to the stage, where chairs were arranged for the speakers to sit. He hoped when Sarah took her seat she wouldn’t be able to see him huddled on the back r
ow.

  He glanced around the theater as the people entered and took a seat. It surprised him to see some of Memphis’s leading citizens at the rally. Obviously not everyone held the same views as did Mr. Buckley. So far he hadn’t revealed the changes taking place in his life to Mr. Buckley or to Larraine, whom he now had dinner with two or three nights a week. He wondered what they would think about his presence here tonight. He might not have to wait long to find out if someone attending tonight told his boss about seeing Alex here.

  Alex sighed and rubbed his hand across his eyes. It didn’t matter. The truth was going to come out sometime, and he had a feeling it wasn’t too far off. The change in him had been happening ever since Christmas when he and Edmund had talked.

  Every time he thought of that day, Alex’s face burned with shame. He’d had an entirely different picture of himself than what Edmund had painted, and it sickened him now to think how right Edmund had been.

  All his life, Alex had taken pride in the fact that he would never discriminate against a person because of social standing, race, or culture. He’d brought Augie, the son of the community’s drunkard, home and treated him like family because that’s what Jesus would have done. He had taken food to the tenant farmers when they had no money and never made any difference whether they were black or white. Somehow, though, he’d never thought about his indifference to the plight of women. Not until Edmund had pointed out how much Jesus loved women.

  Since the day they’d talked, Alex had read his Bible and prayed about the things Edmund had said. He realized how wrong he’d been in his uncaring attitude, and he understood how that must have hurt Sarah. If only he could go back and do it all over again— but he couldn’t, and she had moved on.

  A flurry of activity on the stage caught his attention, and he sat up straight as the speakers for the evening entered the stage. When Sarah stepped from behind the long curtains pulled back at the stage entrances, he thought his heart would burst. She wore a blue dress the color of the eyes that haunted his dreams and had her hair piled on top of her head. She smiled and took her seat.

  Her gaze drifted over the crowd and came to a stop on someone a few rows from the front in the middle section. Alex craned his neck to see who she smiled at, and his heart dropped to his stomach. A man waved at her and then blew her a kiss. Alex had seen his picture in the paper enough to recognize business owner and socialite Roger Thorne. Alex gritted his teeth and directed his attention back to Sarah.

  The moderator for the evening, a middle-aged woman with white hair, stepped to the podium. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Mary Windsor, and on behalf of the Memphis Suffrage Association I am pleased to welcome you to this rally.”

  She began to introduce each of the individuals seated on the stage, but Alex tuned her voice out. He only had eyes and ears for Sarah. The speaker turned to Sarah last. “And speaking for the first time for our organization, Miss Sarah Whittaker, a teacher at Mrs. Edna Simpson’s School for Girls. As you probably have heard, Miss Whittaker will be leaving for Washington next week to work with Alice Paul and other representatives of the National Woman’s Party. Before she leaves, we thought you might like to hear her thoughts on the plight of women in America.”

  Sarah acknowledged the announcement and the audience’s applause with a smile and a nod of her head. Then she turned her attention to the first speaker who was taking his place behind the podium. Alex tried to concentrate on the panelists as they came one after another to stand before the group, but all he could do was stare at Sarah.

  Then he heard her name called from the podium. She stood, smoothed her satin dress with her hands, and stepped forward. Alex sat up straighter and gripped the chair arms as he studied her every movement. She glided to the lectern, took her place behind it, and let her gaze travel slowly across the people seated in the auditorium.

  “Good evening.” She paused as if waiting for an answer.

  After she’d swept the group with her gaze, she reversed it and backtracked over the assembly. No one in the audience moved. As if she realized the hypnotic effect she had on the group, she leaned closer to the podium, a somber expression on her face. “I hesitate to add more to my greeting than to say good evening. Proper etiquette decrees that I acknowledge those in attendance and address you as ladies and gentlemen. However, I didn’t come here tonight to charm you with empty words. I came in hopes of stirring your souls in protest of the injustice that is taking place in this land. The greeting I long to give you burns within me as I face you.”

  A hushed silence met her statement. “I prefer to greet you as fellow citizens, but I find that impossible. The voices of early suffrage leaders like Susan B. Anthony, Belva Lockwood, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton ring out to tell women we cannot be called citizens. We are not citizens of this country because our government has never afforded us that distinction.

  “Government demands that we, as female members of American society, follow laws made by men and work for wages determined by men. In factories where men and women work side by side, men’s wages often triple those of women. Those who seek justification for unequal pay tell us that women provide a supplementary income.”

  She paused and curled her lip into a sneer. “Tell that to the widow who must feed and provide for her children. Tell that to the young girl taking care of elderly parents, and tell that to women who labor ten to twelve hours a day and care for their families after work.”

  Applause rang out through the auditorium, and Alex glanced at the people near him. They nodded and clapped as they stared at Sarah. Near the front, a few women stood to their feet and held their hands high in the air as they clapped.

  Sarah waited until the applause had died before she smiled and swept the auditorium with her gaze again. “Now I’m not naïve enough to think that any of the women here tonight spent ten hours in a factory today. Oh no. I look around and I see women dressed in the latest fashions, and I know those gathered here represent the privileged of our city. Some of you are blessed to live in comfort while others live in luxury.” She paused for a moment, as if a sudden thought had popped into her head. “Perhaps some of the ladies here tonight own houses, land, or businesses. You pay taxes according to the law, but you have no voice in making laws that dictate what must be paid.”

  Alex sensed a rippling of movement in the audience. “Some of you own businesses with male employees. Does justice prevail when your earnings pay wages to men eligible to vote, and the government denies you, the company owner, that same basic freedom?”

  “No!” The shouted word seemed to erupt from every corner of the theater.

  Sarah leaned forward, her hands gripping either side of the podium, and frowned. “How long must we wait for liberty? How long must we labor for justice? How long will we tolerate a government that delegates women to the lowest level of society? We must unite and press our legislators to raise us to the level of citizenship we deserve. Until they do, we remain as servants to this nation, not citizens.”

  Sarah raised her fist in defiance. “I say to you, fellow servants, how long must we wait before Washington listens? How long must we wait?”

  Sarah stepped back from the podium, and the audience bounded to their feet. Alex rose with them. A woman to the left of the stage cried out, “How long must we wait?”

  The hall vibrated with shouts as one after another voices joined the chant, “How long must we wait? How long must we wait?”

  Sarah stepped to the side of the podium and bowed. The cries rose to the balcony, and the crowd clapped in rhythm with the words, the cries growing louder.

  Alex clapped along with the crowd as Sarah walked back to her seat. She glanced down to where Roger Thorne sat and smiled. The acknowledgment sent a chill down his spine. If he had been hoping he could change the situation between Sarah and Roger, he now knew the truth.

  Sarah had a new love in her life, and it was the cause she served. Whether or not her life included Roger Thorne, he didn�
��t know. But after hearing her speak, Alex realized she was lost to him forever. And he had no one to blame but himself.

  He stepped into the aisle and walked from the theater with the applause for Sarah’s speech still ringing in his ears. Sarah had moved on. Maybe it was time he did too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Sunday afternoon Sarah wandered through the house trying to find something to occupy her time. Her notes to the teacher taking her class on Monday were complete, her trunks were packed, and the letter was written telling Uncle Charlie and Aunt Clara where she would be over the next few months. With nothing to do and Mrs. Simpson and Roger away for the afternoon, maybe a Sunday afternoon nap would be in order.

  She walked to the staircase, but before she mounted the first step, a knock sounded at the door. Dora came hurrying into the entry, but Sarah held up her hand. “I’ll get it, Dora.” The maid nodded and retreated.

  Sarah smoothed her hair into place and put a smile on her face before she opened the door. The smile slowly dissolved as she stared up at Alex Taylor filling the doorway. His eyes lit up with a smile that reminded her of the day he’d tipped his baseball cap at her.

  “Alex.” His name tasted sweet on her lips, and a thrill coursed through her veins.

  Alex’s eyes devoured her. “Hello, Sarah. I’m afraid I’ve given you quite a start. Maybe I should have called first, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. May I come in?”

  She stared back at him and took in every detail. His hair, so unruly the day of the ball game, lay neatly combed, and he held a hat in his hand. His brown suit with vest and matching tie accented his dark eyes, and the smile that curved his lips reminded her of a long-ago encounter. The pulse in her neck beat like a drum, and she put a hand to her throat to still the pumping.

  “C–come in, Alex.”

  He took a hesitant step toward her, and she moved aside to let him enter the house. He stopped in the hallway and surveyed the entry and parlor. He glanced up the stairway before he turned back to her. “I’ve driven by here so many times in the past six months, and I’ve often tried to imagine what the inside was like. It really is a beautiful house.”