Dora clucked her tongue at Sarah and set her load on the table by the window. “Miss Sarah, I know you’re right carried away with the idea of gittin’ down to that office today, but you gotta eat. You didn’t hardly touch nothin’ I fixed for you earlier.”
Sarah smiled at the young girl who fussed over her. “Dora, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m so glad Mrs. Simpson decided to bring you with us. You take care of this house so well, and you seem to know everything I need.”
“Yes’m, I watch out for you.” Her glance swept the small parlor. “This house sure ain’t as big as the one in Memphis, and I ain’t havin’ no trouble keepin’ up with the work.”
A picture of the big house in Memphis flashed into Sarah’s mind, and she compared it to the rented house they occupied in Washington. Sarah picked up the cup from the tray, held it to her lips, and peered at Dora over its top.
“I remember how your eyes almost popped out of your head when the taxi turned the corner onto this street and you saw all those magnificent row houses. But I have to say I was impressed too. The houses with their stone masonry, conical roofs, and round towers remind me of English castles.”
Dora laughed and propped her hands on her hips. “I reckon Mr. Roger was right when he said some of the wealthiest people in Washington live in the Dupont Circle area, and now we do too. But I have to say, the people ain’t the friendliest in the world. Of course I wouldn’t expect them to be friends with me, but the maids even got their noses stuck up in the air. I heard the lady next door tell her maid not to have nothing to do with those suffragists next door.” Dora gave a chuckle. “As if I cared. I reckon I got better things to do than talk to any stuck-up maids.”
Sarah set the cup down and smiled at Dora. “Don’t pay any attention to them. I’m your friend, and you’re mine. We don’t need anybody else in Dupont Circle.”
Dora frowned and shook her head. “Oh no, Miss Sarah. I thank you for saying that, but our places are too different for us to be friends.”
Sarah took Dora’s hand in hers and stared into her eyes. “Dora, what do you think enfranchisement is all about? It’s about more than getting the vote. It’s about giving a voice to all women so we can make our lives better. You have become very important to me while I’ve been at Mrs. Simpson’s school, and I want you to think of me as your friend. We’re in this fight together.”
Dora clasped her hands and smiled. A look of awe covered her face. “I sure hope we can win. I can’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to get to vote.”
Sarah nodded. “I know, Dora. I feel the same way. You see, we’re not different at all. We have the same desires. And someday we’ll go to the voting precinct together and cast our votes.”
Tears sparkled in Dora’s eyes. “Thank you, Miss Sarah.”
Sarah set the cup back on the tray and took a deep breath. “Now I need to get ready for my meeting with Alice Paul today. I’ve got to convince her to let me take on some added responsibility.”
“But I thought you were satisfied working in the office and doing whatever they needed.”
Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, I’ve loved every minute of it, but things are changing in Washington, Dora. How much do you know about Miss Paul?”
Dora shrugged. “I know she’s a Quaker and she was active in the suffrage movement in England when she lived there for a while.”
Sarah nodded. “She earned a reputation there as an activist and antagonist. In fact she was imprisoned three times in England.”
“Land sakes,” Dora exclaimed, “I didn’t know she had to go to prison.”
“She did, but she knew we needed a constitutional amendment in America so women could vote. So she came home and began her crusade.” Sarah grew more excited as she talked about Alice Paul. “Oh Dora, I wish you could see her headquarters. It’s near the White House, and there are women there from all walks of life. We’re working together for a common goal, and I believe we’re going to be successful.”
“But, Miss Sarah, I heard you telling Mrs. Simpson that things are getting a little tense down there now that Miss Paul has women picketing at the White House gates.”
Sarah grabbed Dora’s hand. “You mustn’t worry about that. The women are only standing there with signs. They don’t say a word. We call them silent sentinels. All they’re doing is trying to get the president to take notice of us.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not one of them. I’d be worried about you.”
Sarah smiled. “I don’t want you to worry. But I suppose I should tell you. My meeting today with Miss Paul is to ask her to let me picket with the women.”
Dora’s eyes grew large, and she shook her head. “Oh no, Miss Sarah, please don’t.”
Sarah laughed. “It’s all right, Dora. She may not even let me. After all, I am the youngest volunteer.” She sighed. “Everybody keeps reminding me of that.”
Dora started to reply, but before she could, the front door opened, and Roger’s voice rang out. “Sarah, where are you?”
Dora jumped at the sound of his voice and scampered past him as he entered the room. Sarah frowned as Dora disappeared into the kitchen. She didn’t understand why Roger’s presence intimidated Dora so, but she had noticed it when she first came to Mrs. Simpson’s school.
“Good morning, Roger. You seem happy this morning.”
With quick strides he crossed the room and grabbed her hands. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? Where is it?”
“Outside. Come and see.” He drew her toward the door and to the front porch.
Sarah’s eyes widened at the sight of a black automobile sitting in front of the house. “It’s a Packard, and it looks very much like the one you have in Memphis. Where did you get it?”
“I bought it. I’m tired of us having to depend on taxis and public transportation to get around. Besides, you need to arrive in style at headquarters each day, and I intend to drive you there.”
“But what will you do with it when we leave Washington?”
“Sell it maybe. Or hire someone to drive it back to Memphis for me. I don’t know yet.”
Sarah turned toward Roger. “It really is a beautiful car, Roger. You’ve been so thoughtful of our comfort since we moved to Washington. The house is beautiful; you had a telephone installed; and now you’ve bought a car to transport your aunt and me. I hope you’re not spending too much money on us.”
Roger reached out and grasped her hand. His eyes studied her. “Sarah, money is the least of my worries. When my parents died, they left me a fortune. It could be yours too. When you marry me, everything I have will be yours. I’m a rich man, and I can give you anything you want. All you have to do is say the word.”
Sarah pulled her hand free and shook her head. “We’ve talked about this, and you know my answer. When are you going to accept it?”
His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. “I always get what I want, Sarah, and I want you. I will never give up, so you might as well give in.”
Sarah tried to pull free, but his fingers tightened on her arm. “Roger, please, you’re hurting me.”
His fingers eased, but he didn’t release her. “Then maybe you know how I feel. I’ve done everything for you, Sarah, and yet you have no consideration for my feelings.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “That’s not true.”
He didn’t answer, but still holding on to her arm, Roger guided Sarah down the steps to the waiting automobile and opened the door. She sank into the seat and rubbed her arm where his fingers had gripped her. Why did he have to bring up the subject of marriage today when she was so tense about her meeting with Miss Paul? She closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.
As Roger guided the car through the Washington traffic, she studied the shining interior of the car and breathed in the pungent aromas of polished leather, oil, and gasoline. It really was a beautiful car, and Roger was right. As his wife, she could
have anything she wanted. But she couldn’t think about marriage. She had a mission in Washington to accomplish.
She turned her head and stared out the open window as they rode toward headquarters. A hot wind blew through the open window and ruffled her hair. When she’d first come to Washington, she’d tried to memorize the names of all the sites. Now the landmarks had become so familiar it seemed like the nation’s capital had always been a part of her life.
When the White House came in sight, Sarah swiveled in her seat to get a better view of the women at the gates. The crowd partially obscured the signs they held, but some stuck up over their heads. She pointed to the sign that read Mr. President, how long must women wait for liberty? “Look, Roger, I helped make that sign yesterday. What do you think?”
He glanced at it and smiled before he stopped the car in front of the house in Lafayette Park right across from the White House. “Here we are. You’re delivered safely, and I shall pick you up this afternoon. Good luck with your meeting with Miss Paul.”
Sarah glanced at the sign on the porch that said Cameron House. “Miss Paul was very smart to set up headquarters right across from the White House. Surely the president is going to give in to her demands for his support of a constitutional amendment when he sees these protestors every day.”
“You would think so, but so far he hasn’t budged.”
Sarah started to get out of the car, but she hesitated with her hand on the door. “Roger, I’m sorry if I upset you this morning. Please try to understand. I have a lot on my mind with the work here, and I don’t want to think about marriage.”
He nodded, but she could see the pain in his eyes. “I understand. Just remember that I love you, Sarah.”
She nodded and tried to smile, but her lips only twitched. “I know you do.”
His eyes narrowed. “And one day you’re going to look at me the way you look at that farmer.”
Her anger flared, and she whirled in her seat to face him. “I’ve told you he’s a lawyer.”
“Well, he still looks like a farmer to me,” he sneered.
Seething with anger, Sarah climbed from the car and hurried into the house. She stopped inside the front door and took a deep breath to calm herself. The volunteers were already hard at work on their assignments at their desks scattered about the room. Some made signs, some worked at typewriters, and others bustled about carrying stacks of paper. No one seemed to notice her angry entrance.
“Good morning, Sarah.”
Sarah turned and smiled at Marian Douglas who headed toward her. The young woman who supervised the volunteers had worked as a secretary before joining Alice Paul and exuded competence and professionalism. Her auburn hair lay pinned to the top of her head, and wire-rimmed glasses perched on her pointed nose. Her simple shirtwaist dress fell in straight lines to her ankles, and its sleeves tapered to fit tightly around her small wrists.
“Good morning, Marian. It seems like everybody’s gotten off to a quick start this morning.”
“Some of the volunteers have been here for hours.” She motioned for Sarah to follow, and they headed toward the back of the room. “Are you ready for your meeting with Miss Paul?”
“I’m a little nervous, but I’m ready.”
Marian smiled and squeezed her hand. “Just tell her how you feel. She won’t bite.”
Sarah laughed. “I know that.”
Marian led her to the back of the room where a door led into a small office. She knocked on the door, opened it, and stuck her head in. “Sarah Whittaker is here to see you.”
“Show her in.” Sarah recognized Alice’s soft voice.
Sarah stepped into the small office and stopped as Alice Paul rose from her chair behind an oak desk. Although she was in her early thirties, there was a quality in her fierce commitment to their cause that made her appear older.
Sarah extended her hand. “Good morning, Miss Paul, I appreciate your taking time out from your busy schedule to see me today.”
Alice smoothed her dark hair in place and smiled at Sarah. Fatigue lined her face. Did the woman ever sleep? She was at Cameron House at all hours of the day and night and was always ready to encourage those who needed it.
Alice took Sarah’s offered hand and grasped it in both of hers. “How are you this morning, Sarah?”
“I’m fine.” She reached in her purse and pulled out an envelope. “Mrs. Simpson, the lady who came with me to Washington, hasn’t felt well since we arrived. Since she hasn’t been able to volunteer lately, she asked me to give you this.”
Alice took the envelope and peered inside. Her surprised expression caused Sarah to smile. She looked at the envelope again before she spoke. “How very kind of Mrs. Simpson. I’m sure we can use the money.”
“She wants to feel like she’s a part of the movement and wants you to have the supplies you need.”
Sarah felt uncertain whether she should sit or continue to stand. Alice motioned Sarah into a chair and sat down behind her desk. She placed the envelope in a drawer before addressing Sarah.
Alice settled into her chair. “Now, what did you want to speak to me about?”
Sarah swallowed and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve been volunteering in this office for two months, and I love what I’m doing. But I want to do more. I want to join the silent sentinels at the White House.”
Alice picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desk as she studied Sarah’s face. “You’re asking for something that you may not want once you get it. We’re taking a risk by being there. Some people think we are openly defying the president. Tempers have flared over the past few weeks, and we may encounter some resistance. I’d hate to see a young girl like you involved in that.”
Sarah straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You were probably about my age when you first began your protests in England. But you believed in your cause and were strong enough to withstand three arrests. I doubt if I would be called on to face anything like that.”
“You certainly have the commitment that’s required of someone to experience such treatment, but I only want to spare you the possibility of a confrontation.”
Sarah leaned forward. “I’ve been committed to suffrage for as long as I can remember. My father and mother admired you so much. They’re both dead now, and I have to make my own decisions about where I should be in the suffrage movement. I admire Mrs. Catt and her belief that our best hope lies in our elected officials, but I feel like my heart is with the National Woman’s Party. The only way we’re ever going to get the vote is through an amendment to the constitution. I’m willing to take my place on the forefront of the fight as a picket.”
Alice chewed on her lip and nodded. “You’re right that Mrs. Catt isn’t as militant as I am. For instance, take our suffrage parade in March of 1913, the day before President Wilson was inaugurated. Five thousand women marched down Pennsylvania Avenue to let the new president know how we felt about the vote. An angry mob attacked the marchers, and many of them had to be taken to hospitals. The police stood by and watched without doing anything.”
A chill ran down Sarah’s spine. “I know. I was still in high school at the time, but I read about it in the paper. I don’t think Mrs. Catt would have approved of that.”
Alice laughed. “No, she wouldn’t. It seems you’ve researched your argument well, Sarah.”
“It’s not research, Miss Paul. It comes from discussing the issues with my parents from the time I was a child. It’s made me who I am today. And I want to join the pickets.”
Alice leaned back in her chair and placed her fingertips together in front of her. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before she looked back at Sarah. “Two weeks after that march, I took a group of women with me to call on the president. We asked for his support of suffrage, but he would do nothing. That happened four years ago, and he still does nothing and refuses to even receive any suffrage delegations. That’s why we began to picket outside the White House in January of this year.
But the situation is tense and becomes more so every day. I don’t want to involve you in it yet. In time if you still feel this way, I will.”
Sarah felt her heart stir at Miss Paul’s promise. “Thank you. Until that time I will do anything I can to help. I want to be a part of this great campaign you’ve started here.”
Alice rose from behind her desk. “Good. Then let’s see what we can find for you to do today.”
Chapter Nineteen
Alex stood up from behind his desk, walked to the window, and stared out at the sky. A flicker of light in the clouds and a far-off rumble signaled a storm to the west. He wondered if the storm would move across the Mississippi River or would skirt Memphis. As he stared at the black clouds rolling in the distance, he thought of another storm, on the day of the funeral for Sarah’s mother, and their conversation afterward.
He wished many times he could go back to the days before that when their relationship had been sweeter and they were at ease with each other. If he had understood her then like he did now, he would have approached her differently. He sighed at the impossibility.
She was probably married to Roger Thorne by now. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He shouldn’t be thinking about her. Not when he and Larraine were getting along so well. If things continued this well, he’d probably ask her to marry him at Christmas.
Maybe then he would quit thinking about Sarah. He raked his hand through his hair and groaned. Why were some days more difficult than others? Today, everywhere he turned something reminded him of her. But the most troubling of all was the thought that niggled at his mind constantly that he needed to pray for her.
A knock on his office door caught his attention, and he turned. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Lydia walked in. “Mr. Taylor, I’m about to go to lunch and wanted to ask if there is anything you need before I go.”
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