by Kip Gayden
Anna showed her daughter the blouses, the scarves, the dresses. She even showed her the new silk stockings she’d found at a boutique on Wabash Avenue. But she decided she wouldn’t show her the French nightgown. It just didn’t seem right. The nightgown would stay hidden for now.
“Oh, Mama, I’m so glad you’re home.”
Anna looked at Mabel and smiled. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
Just as Anna had finished putting away the last of her clothes and new things from the trip, Scott came padding into her room in his stocking feet, rubbing his eyes with balled-up fists.
“Well, hello there, young sir,” Anna said. “I’m so glad to see you up! I came into your room as soon as Daddy and I got home from the station, but you were like Little Boy Blue, under the haystack fast asleep.”
Scott came to her and raised his arms to be held. Anna hoisted him up and clasped him in a hug. She kissed the side of his neck with loud, smacking sounds. He giggled and squirmed away from her.
“It tickles, Mama.”
Anna carried Scott to her bed and sat him down on the edge. “Now, you have to tell me everything you did while Daddy and I were away. Don’t leave out a single thing.”
Scott looked around her room. “Did you bring me anything?”
“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. You’ll just have to wait and see. Christmas is coming, you know.”
“Mama!”
“Patience, young man.”
“‘Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cherubin,—’” quoted Mabel, standing in the doorway.
“Oh, your father and his Shakespeare,” Anna said, shaking her head at her daughter.
“Mama, can we go downtown and see the Christmas decorations?” Mabel said. “In an hour or two, they’ll be turning on the lights. I want to see it, don’t you?”
“Me, too!” Scott said, standing up on his mother’s bed and jumping up and down.
“No more monkeys jumping on the bed,” Anna said, grabbing him round the waist and swinging him in a wide arc down to the floor. “All right, you two. Shall we go for a stroll?”
“Yeeeeeeeeessssssss!” the children shouted.
“Can Daddy come?” Scott said.
Anna realized she hadn’t seen Walter since she got out of the automobile. “I think Daddy went to his office to check on his patients. Maybe we can walk by there to see, all right?”
She bundled her children and herself in coats and scarves against the December air and went to the kitchen to tell Gertrude, their maid, where she and the children were going, in case Walter came home before they did. Then, holding Scott’s hand on one side and Mabel’s on the other, she went out the front door and down the sidewalk to the gate, turning right toward the town center.
The Dotson home fronted North Water Avenue, sitting on the west side of the town’s main north-south thoroughfare, close to where Railroad Street intersected. Across the street, situated in the V of the intersection, sat the Keystone Hotel, with its large, wraparound porch that provided a gathering place popular with many of Gallatin’s downtown merchants and workers—especially the young, unattached men. Sometimes Anna would see Bobby there after his working hours, sitting at a table with some of his cronies, drinking cider—at least, that’s what he told his big sister he drank—and holding forth on the topic of the day. He wasn’t there now, though, as far as she could see. Most likely he’d had to get back to the store and make up for the time he’d spent seeing them home from the station.
As Anna strolled past the Keystone on the opposite side of the street, she did see someone watching her: a fellow with a slender, muscular build and black hair. He wore a black derby and he didn’t look away, even though Anna was certain he knew she noticed him watching her. He sat at a table with three other men, and after another second or two, turned to say something to one of his companions. Anna wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed at his impudence or complimented by the interest he’d shown—if that was what it was. Then Mabel started tugging her toward the decorated windows of the shops on Boyers Avenue, and Anna had to pay attention in order to guide her children safely across the busy intersection.
They trudged up Water Street, climbing the hill toward the town square, dominated by the Sumner County Courthouse, its white trim stark against the red brick of its walls. Walter’s medical office was on the town square, along with many of the town’s most prosperous business establishments: Person’s Barbershop, the Jennings Art Gallery, a beauty salon, a druggist with a soda fountain, and Whitehead’s Hardware and Dry Goods, where Bobby worked.
Anna pulled open the door to Walter’s clinic and held it for the children. Scott went straight to the bureau drawer where Walter kept sweet treats for his youngest patients. He extracted a small packet of horehound candy wrapped in white paper and looked a question at his mother. She gave him a smile and a nod, and he swiftly popped one of the dark, brown lozenges into his mouth.
“Daddy?” Mabel said, stepping through the front parlor toward the short hallway that connected the two small surgeries.
“Back here, darling.” Walter’s voice had come from the far right end of the hallway, where his private office was located. The children and Anna went down the hall and stood in the doorway. Walter sat at his oak rolltop desk; papers of various sizes spread all across the desk in front of him.
“Trying to catch up on all the correspondence from while we were gone,” he said.
“The children wanted to see the Christmas windows. Can you come with us?”
He gave them a regretful little smile. “Oh, no. Far too much to do here, if I want to hit the ground running with my patients in the morning. You all run along and have a good time. Maybe I’ll finish early enough to catch up with you before you go back to the house.”
“All right, children, let’s get out of Daddy’s way,” Anna said, motioning Mabel and Scott back down the hallway.
“Daddy, will you be home for supper?” Scott said. “I want to show you the sword Uncle Bobby helped me make.”
“A sword, is it? Well, I might just have to see that,” Walter said, smiling. “Go on, now, and mind your mama.”
“Try not to be too late,” Anna said in a lower voice as the children walked toward the front parlor. “They’ve missed you.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. To Anna, his tone sounded much the same as the one he’d used with Scott.
“Why don’t we go say hello to Uncle Bobby?” Anna said. The three of them walked down to Whitehead’s. Anna was pleased to see Scott tug open the door and hold it for her and Mabel. “Why, thank you, sir,” she said, smiling at her son as they went inside. “Where did you ever learn such lovely manners?”
Bobby was handing a sales ticket to a customer when they came in. He looked up and saw them.
“Hello, Sister,” he said. He came out from behind the counter and stooped down to receive Mabel, grabbing her in his arms and giving her a big hug.
“I don’t think I ever actually thanked you for picking us up at the station,” Anna said.
“No trouble at all. How was Chicago?”
“Fine. Scott, don’t touch the lamps, please.”
“How did Walter’s presentation go?”
“Oh, I’m sure he was wonderful, as always.” Her tone was a little sharper than she intended, and her brother gave her an odd look.
“Uncle Bobby, can I have this?” Scott was holding a cork gun.
“You’ll have to ask your mama,” Bobby said.
“Mama, please, can I?”
“Absolutely not, Scott. I’ve already told you once today that Christmas is coming. Now you just put that right back where you found it.” Scott hesitated, and Anna gave him a look that suggested obedience as the best choice. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Scott put the toy back on its shelf.
“You ought to be ashamed, putting things like that where young boys’ fingers can be tempted,” Anna said to Bobby in a low voice.
Bobby grinned. “Well, now we have to h
elp Santa along somehow, don’t we? Your mama’s right, Scott,” he said in a louder voice. “Old Santa Claus is coming pretty soon. I’ll try and remember to tell him you had your eye on that popgun, all right?”
“Come on, children. Let’s go see Mrs. Jennings and look at some paintings.”
Mabel smiled happily and skipped toward the door, while Scott shuffled more slowly, his hands shoved in his pockets, still sending longing glances at the cork gun.
“Thank you again, Bobby,” Anna said. “Why don’t you come over for supper tomorrow night?”
“That’d be nice. Thank you, Sis.”
They went out, then around the square to the Jennings Art Gallery. Anna was delighted to see Elizabeth Jennings behind the counter, talking with another woman. Like Anna, Elizabeth kept up with the suffrage movement, and was one of the younger ladies in the informal gathering Anna met with weekly over tea. Elizabeth would catch Anna up on all the local gossip that had accumulated while she was away. Anna gave her friend a wave and waited, looking at the displays of oils and watercolors with the children, until the other woman left. She told the children to look, but not touch, and went over to where Elizabeth waited. The two friends hugged in greeting.
“When did you get back from Chicago?” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, an hour or two ago. The children wanted to see the Christmas things, so . . .”
“Was it all just wonderful?”
“Chicago was nice. Lots of good shopping.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I want to see.”
“Isn’t it my turn to host the tea next Tuesday? I’ll show you everything.”
“I can hardly wait. Where did you stay?”
“The Hotel Chicago, where the convention was held. It’s very nice.”
“Was it just so romantic?”
Anna felt a little pang. “It was lovely, yes. Our room was very nice. So . . . what’s the latest news around here?”
Elizabeth filled her in on the goings-on around Gallatin: The wife of the Presbyterian minister had hosted a coming-out for her niece, a rather plain girl from some little crossroads in Trousdale County; Mrs. Olmstead and Mrs. Baskerville—both of whom were members of the weekly tea group—were mortified when they both showed up wearing the identical dress.
“I’d have thought they’d have communicated better beforehand,” Anna said.
Elizabeth shrugged. “They’re both dears, of course, but also both a little vain. You and I would’ve just laughed it off.” Then she told Anna about the current, big public debate in Gallatin over the proposal before the Board of Aldermen to raise the speed limit for horseless carriages from five to eight miles per hour. “I expect the car owners will be bending Walter’s ear, now that he’s back in town, trying to convince him to vote for raising the limit.”
“Oh, I can’t imagine Walter doing something so daring,” Anna said.
Elizabeth gave her a quizzical, amused look. “But I’ve saved the most interesting news for last,” she said. “At the next Board of Aldermen meeting, we’re planning something a little more exciting than speed limits. Several of us from the local association are planning to address the aldermen about the cause.”
Anna gave her a surprised look. “How on earth did you get that on the agenda?”
“Oh, we didn’t. We’re just going to show up, in full regalia, with our Tennessee Equal Suffrage Association banner, and demand to be heard. What do you think?”
“I think you’d better hope Tennessee men are more tolerant than those mobs in London.”
Elizabeth’s face fell. “Good point. The papers make it sound awful over there.”
“It’s one thing when they holler ‘she-male’ at you on the street. It’s something else when they pelt you with stones and drag you off to jail.”
“Are you losing interest in the cause? You signed the petition, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did, and no, I still believe in the cause. I’m just . . . frustrated, I suppose. After all, every woman in the United States could sign the petition, and it still wouldn’t matter as long as the men don’t give their approval. They’re the only ones who can vote, the only ones who can be elected, the only ones who can . . . do anything. My name isn’t even on the title to our home since there’s a man available for the job.”
Elizabeth looked at Anna, then put her hand on her arm. “You’ve got the blues, haven’t you, dear? I’m sorry. Is anything wrong?”
Anna took a deep breath and found a smile to offer her friend. “No, not really. I’m fine, Elizabeth. Maybe I’m just tired from the long trip back.”
Anna heard Mabel scolding Scott. “I think Scott is getting restless,” she said. “I’d better go. It’s so good to see you again. I’m looking forward to Tuesday.”
“Me, too. Glad you’re back safely, dear friend.” Elizabeth waved at Mabel and Scott. “ ’Bye, children. Bring your mother back soon, all right?”
5
Person’s barbershop looked crowded. Walter was disappointed; he was hoping to be able to pop in, get his trim and shave, and hurry back to his office before his afternoon appointments.
There were three barber chairs and, facing them, a dozen seats for waiting customers. Walter knew most of the downtown merchants and businessmen in the shop. He went down the line, shaking hands.
“Kinda full up today, Doc,” said J. P. Person. He was lathering the face of a patron. “You in a hurry?”
“Oh, a little, I guess, J. P. Wanted to tidy up before the Board of Aldermen’s meeting tonight.”
“I hear some a them she-males are planning something for tonight,” one of the waiting customers said.
“Give ’em the vote, next thing, they’ll want to drive automobiles,” someone else muttered.
“Now, fellas,” Walter said, “not all women are suffragettes.”
“You sure?” one of the others said. “My wife won’t leave me alone about it.”
“I wish the legislature would hurry up and vote,” someone else said. “The whole country’s crawling all over Tennessee’s business. The sooner we get it over with—one way or the other—the better, is what I say.”
Walter noticed a barber at the third chair he hadn’t seen before—a new man in town, maybe? He went over and stuck out his hand. “Walter Dotson. Don’t believe I’ve seen you here at J. P.’s before, have I?”
The barber shifted his scissors to the other hand and gripped Walter’s outstretched palm firmly. “Pleased to meet you, Walter. I’m Charlie Cobb. Just moved here a few weeks ago, from Big Rock.”
“Hey, Doc, you want to give Charlie a try?” one of the men said. “I’m next with him, but if you’re in a hurry, you can go in front of me.”
“Fine with me,” J. P. said. “I got three more waiting.”
“You’re a doctor?” the new man said, combing and clipping expertly at the hair of the man in his chair.
“Yes, my office is just over there, on the other side of the square.”
Cobb nodded. He had dense, curly black hair, and was of average height, with a strong, wiry build. He certainly looked like he knew what he was doing with the scissors.
“Well, fine, then—that is, if you’re sure, Will,” Walter said, looking at the man who’d made the offer.
“Be my guest,” he said. “Besides, if those she-males come busting in tonight at the aldermen’s meeting, you’ll want to look nice for the papers.”
Some of the men laughed.
“I’m almost finished here, Dr. Dotson,” Charlie Cobb said. “Just give me a couple more minutes.”
“Call me Walter,” he said, finding an empty seat.
Someone down the line made a disgusted noise and threw down the newspaper. “Taft is an idiot,” he said.
“He’s a Republican,” someone else said. “That’s the same thing, ain’t it?”
Several of the men were grinning at Walter, waiting to see what he’d say.
“Now, fellas,” he said, “how about laying of
f all that, for once? I just got back in town, after all—”
“I thought things around town had been going smoother than normal,” J. P. said with a smirk. “Sure enough, Doc, you have been gone, haven’t you?”
Some of the others chuckled.
“You can always tell a Republican,” J. P. said, “you just can’t tell him much.”
A bigger laugh, this time.
“Now, J. P., is that any way to talk to one of your best customers?” Walter said.
“You better watch out, J. P.,” someone said. “Doc is friends with President Taft. He’s liable to get you shut down if you’re not careful.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Walter said. “But if you Democrats don’t leave me alone, I may try to get the President to at least give you a good talking-to.”
“I wish he’d give Congress a talking-to and shut down some of these she-males,” someone said. “Wonder what they’re going to try tonight at the meeting?”
“Hey, Charlie,” J. P. said, motioning toward the new barber. “What do you think about all this women’s suffrage stuff?”
Charlie Cobb was unpinning the towel from his customer’s neck. He swept the covering aside with a practiced motion as the man got up from his chair. He motioned toward Walter, then looked around at the other men. “I think a woman’s place is at home, taking care of her children and keeping her husband satisfied,” he said.
“Keep ’em between the sheets, eh?” J. P. said. Everyone laughed.
Walter sat down in Cobb’s chair. He was smiling along with everyone else, but he was feeling less than satisfied with the prospect of facing a bevy of demonstrating suffragettes at tonight’s Board of Aldermen meeting. He knew Anna was interested in the question, and he wasn’t quite comfortable with that, but so far he hadn’t seen fit to forbid her involvement.
Not that forbidding something to Anna would solve the problem; Walter knew that from the influenza epidemic at the Lafayette hospital. Once his wife got something in her head, you couldn’t argue it out. Over the years, Walter had most often found it easiest to leave her alone as much as he could.