She and Shawn hurried along with the jostling, happy throng to the House of Representatives where President Wilson was to give his speech. The House Chamber was filled to capacity, but they managed to squeeze their way to the front.
Before long, a smiling Woodrow Wilson with his top hat raised walked jauntily to the podium. For all his sixty-one years he appeared almost boyish.
Waving and smiling broadly from the speaker’s stand, the President patiently waited for the tumult to die down. Finally the audience hushed, awaiting his address.
He began in a firm voice, "My fellow countrymen, the Armistice was signed this morning. Everything for which America fought has been accomplished. It will now be our fortunate duty to assist by example, by sober, friendly counsel, and by material aid in the establishment of democracy throughout the world."
All this talk of democracy around the world left Laura with a bitter feeling. Everywhere the rights of countries were to be upheld, except right here in America. Women, it seemed, were to be excluded in this victory for democracy!
Interspersed in the crowd were the purple, white, and gold banners of the suffragists, and she wondered if the women holding high these colors shared her same thoughts.
Shawn took her elbow, and they filed out of the chamber and onto Lafayette Square for the fireworks and dancing.
Later in the evening Laura began to tire. "Shawn, I don’t know what it is, but I could go to sleep right on the dance floor."
"Nonsense. It’s only ten o’clock." He peered more closely at her. "You do look pale. You’re not going to get sick on me, are you ?"
She laughed shakily. "No, I feel fine, but I think we’d better sit this one out."
By midnight, she asked Shawn to take her home. Although she was exhilarated, she was also exhausted. It hadn’t been too long ago that she had gotten up from a sickbed.
As they climbed the stairs to the front stoop she noticed the light in Joe’s window. Her glance didn’t escape Shawn. He turned to face her. "Don’t even think about Joe Menotti with me around," Shawn said firmly, but there were teasing lights in his eyes.
"I’m — I’m not…" she lied.
He kissed her on the nose, then wrapped her in his arms, kissing her soundly so that her senses reeled.
Releasing her, he whispered, "Think only of me tonight, and when you dream, dream of Shawn O’Brien."
"I solemnly promise," she said mockingly, "to have dreams only if you’re in them!"
He entangled his fingers in her hair, nuzzling her slender neck. "I not only dream of you, dearest Laura, but you’re in my every waking thought."
"You’ll lose your job that way," she said jokingly.
His eyes were searching, but there was no answering banter. "Good night, my love. I’ll call you tomorrow."
For a moment she watched him as his trim figure swung down the moonlit street.
As she undressed she kept thinking of the glorious day. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and fell into bed. The faint strains of "There’s a Long, Long Trail a 'Winding," floated down from Joe’s record player. She lay very still, listening. She wondered if the poignant melody reflected Joe’s feelings. What was he thinking? Were he and Aldo thinking of Bertina? She doubted if they had celebrated today. And, Laura asked herself, did Joe give her so much as a fleeting thought anymore? Or was his mind turned to new horizons — horizons that didn’t include her? She bit her lip to keep the tears back. The wonderful day became tinged with sadness.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The next afternoon, as she was about to cut across Lafayette Square, Laura stopped to gaze over its rectangular shape. The impressive rows of stately elms around the square, along with an iron fence, were an appropriate border for the many statues. The large equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson and the many marble groups immortalizing the foreign generals that had helped Washington win the American Revolution dotted the area — Thaddeus Kosciuszko, von Steuben, Comte de Rochambeau, and Comte de Grasse. All of these men fought for freedom to rid the United States of British rule, and as she walked by Kosciuszko’s statue, the Polish patriot, she nodded to him, feeling a kinship with this European soldier. She halted, reading the inscription: "And Freedom shrieked as Kosciuszko fell."
Being in the midst of these freedom fighters made her more and more determined to shape her own future in step with the suffragists. Not that she didn’t want a home and babies, but that would come later. Shawn loved her, and it was now clear that Joe was no longer interested. Her future lay with Shawn.
She breathed in the crisp November air but thought of the summer when the scent was of heavy lemon from the southern magnolia trees.
When she entered the mansion, she was surrounded by the noise of clacking typewriters, and she knew more heavy mailings would be sent out.
In the tearoom a number of women were sewing at a round table in the corner. Recognizing Rowena Green, Julia Emory, Lucy Burns, and Alice Paul, she went over to greet them.
"Laura!" Lucy exclaimed. "Good to see you looking so radiant. We’re stitching new banners. All our signs must be ready by the time Wilson sails for Europe. Every speech he makes in Italy or France will be burned." Lucy threw out her arm toward an empty chair. "Join us! We can use all the help we can get on this project."
The large tricolor was draped over the table, and the purple, gold, and white colors came alive rippling on the heavy satin. Lucy, threading her needle, looked up at Laura and winked, smiling broadly. Her ruddy face seemed lit by an inner fire. "You just missed an interesting delegation, Laura." She glanced at Alice. "Right?"
Alice smiled a rare smile. Her bright eyes fastened on Laura. "Yes, three sailors and one petty officer came to apologize to me for the action of the men in uniform who attacked any suffragist or tore any banners."
"Isn’t that a fascinating wrinkle?" Lucy chortled with satisfaction. "We’re making an impression, Laura, my girl. When four burly men come in shamefaced at what their compatriots have done, that’s progress!" She shifted the heavy cloth folds. "Here," she said, "start hemming."
Dutifully Laura fitted a thimble on her finger and took the offered needle. She enjoyed the camaraderie of these four women.
"Speaking of servicemen," Rowena said. "Here comes a handsome one now!"
Laura glanced up, and her eyes grew round. There was Shawn striding purposefully toward her, without glancing to the right or left, as if he were afraid that this jungle of vipers might attack him.
"Welcome," Alice Paul said dryly, sensing his discomfort. "We can always use another hand."
Shawn did not so much as acknowledge Alice’s presence.
"Shawn," Laura began, flustered. "I’d like to introduce you…."
Abruptly he cut her off. "Laura, I need to talk to you."
Flushing to the roots of her hair at his disregard for her friends, and embarrassed at his disrespect for Alice Paul, she frowned. "Shawn," she said, trying to control her anger, "I’m busy."
Lucy’s laugh boomed forth. "Run along, Laura. We’ll still be here when you return."
Pushing back her chair, she ignored Shawn’s hand and moved quickly toward the door. What on earth did he want that couldn’t wait until she was home?
"Shawn, what is it?" she demanded impatiently. "Is something wrong?"
"Everything is wonderful." His step was jaunty. "I just had to talk to you."
"Fine," she said curtly. "Let’s sit over here and have a cup of tea."