Vivian Schurfranz - Laura

"I promised to meet Shawn for a cup of tea at the corner of Fifteenth Street." She caught her breath. "In fact, there he is now," she said, pointing.

"Hmmm," Cassie said, observing the soldier leaning against a lamppost. "He’s handsome." Just then Shawn turned his head and saw them.

"The way he’s rushing to meet you, it looks like you two are long-lost lovers." Cassie’s laugh lingered in the warm May air. "It looks serious between you two." She gave Laura a sidelong glance beneath long, dark lashes. "What about Joe?"

"Joe’s still special." Laura paused. "Both boys are special but in very different ways." Her pace picked up, and so did her heartbeat, as she returned Shawn’s wave.

"Well, the main thing is that you’re enjoying them. Just stay out of trouble so you can keep on enjoying them," Cassie warned. "I don’t want you taking any more trips to Mr. Cole’s office."

"Believe me, that’s one place I want to keep away from! In fact, if I’m sent there again for my suffragist activities, Mr. Cole personally threatened to take me before the Board."

When Shawn crossed the street and caught up to the two girls, he was breathless. "Laura, hi!"

"Oh, Shawn. It’s good to see you," Laura said, her face beaming. "Everything is all right," she said, almost bubbling over. "I’ll be able to stay in school."

"Great!" He gave her that old familiar grin, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pecked her on the cheek. Lifting his head, he peered quizzically at Cassie.

"Shawn, this is my good friend, Cassie Whiting. Cassie, meet Shawn O’Brien."

"Well, hello," Shawn said in a low voice, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Where has Laura been hiding you?" Folding his arms across his chest, he gazed approvingly at Cassie’s tall, lithe figure. "I’ve heard a lot about you from Laura."

Cassie’s eyes twinkled, looking first at Shawn, then back at Laura. Her face with its straight, delicate planes made her seem grown-up. Her dark hair, short and wavy, ruffled a bit in the slight breeze.

Laura managed to return Cassie’s smile, but she was none too pleased at Shawn’s flirtatious manner. Maybe Joe was right. Maybe Shawn could never be loyal to one girl. The memory of her first meeting came back to her, when Shawn had looked with such admiration at her, too. She chuckled, dismissing the nagging doubt, and said lightly, "I haven’t been hiding Cassie at all. She’s one of the most popular girls at Jefferson High."

"I can understand that," Shawn said. "So, Cassie, you’re a suffragist, too." His tone was unbelieving as he appraised her expensive pink linen suit.

"I am," she said with a pert nod, "and I’m already late for duty at the White House."

"Don’t be tardy," he admonished teasingly. "The soldiers will miss you if you’re not on time."

His mocking tone, however, didn’t upset Cassie, and she held out her hand, shaking Shawn’s again. "I’ve got to run." With a careless wave she hurried off, calling over her shoulder, "I’m glad to have met you, Shawn."

"Same here," he shouted back. Turning to Laura, he said, "What a looker your girl friend is!"

Laura nodded, no longer feeling jealous. That was just Shawn’s way, and what was wrong with appreciating a lovely girl? "Cassie could be a model," she agreed.

He tilted up her chin with his forefinger. "She’s too aristocratic-looking for me. I prefer freckles and a dimpled chin."

She giggled. "It’s a good thing, Shawn O’Brien, because you’re stuck with them." Hand in hand they strolled toward Lee’s Tea Room and Gallery.

When the steaming tea arrived, Laura squeezed lemon into hers but Shawn added nothing. He only wrinkled his nose at his first taste. "I’d rather have Irish coffee." Then he reached for her hand. "It’s so good to see you." His brown eyes became serious. "You know, Laura, you’re playing with fire. Don’t you think you’ve tempted fate once too often? The next time you could get burned."

"What do you mean?" she asked, dabbing her lips with her napkin to hide how flushed she was. Did he think she was flirting with both him and Joe? And although her throat was dry and she could feel a blush sweep across her face, Shawn’s next words reassured her. That wasn’t what he had meant at all.

"This suffrage business has gone far enough, Laura. It’s only a game to you. Don’t you see that it could mean prison?" Carefully he set the dainty cup down, awaiting her reply. As he watched her an amused expression spread across his open face. "But you love danger, don’t you, Laura? You crave excitement!"

She bridled at his words and stiffly took a sip of tea, cautioning herself to be ladylike and not to shout or carry on. "I’m not playing a game, Shawn," she told him in measured tones. "I know there’s a possibility of being arrested, but it’s highly unlikely. After all, I’m not a picket." She observed Shawn over the rim of her cup, willing him to understand. If he cared for her he must try to see her viewpoint and to respect her beliefs, "I feel very strongly about the suffragists and what they’re trying to accomplish."

For a moment his eyes clouded, then he leaned his head back and laughed. "Don’t be so serious, sweetness, or you’ll become wrinkled before your time. Your eyes are sending out storm signals, and I could drown in those green depths of fury." His mouth curved downward. "Laura, surely you must realize how men view this nonsense when they see women running around with placards, organizing parades, obstructing traffic, going to jail, and generally making fools of themselves."

She gritted her teeth but said nothing. Not all men think we’re nonsensical, she thought. Joe understood. Besides, many men had come over to their side, including legislators. Why did Shawn have to cling to the old ways and old ideas? What was it? Did he feel threatened? Why should he? He was handsome and had everything going for him — why should he resent women having the ballot?

His voice softened. "You’re not like one of them, Laura. You’re lovely and a woman who desires a man’s arms around her." His smile didn’t reach his sober eyes. "I don’t want to have you turn into a spinster like Miss Paul."

"Miss Paul has dedicated her life to our cause." Laura’s hands shook, and she felt so angry she could cry, but she wouldn’t give Shawn the satisfaction.

"All right, but we’ve been going out for several months and I’m constantly competing with the suffragist meetings. In fact, I wish you’d take me as seriously as you do Miss Paul." His words were clipped and abrupt. "A little of that treatment goes a long way."

It suddenly occurred to her that Shawn had never had to take no for an answer, certainly not when it came to girls. When he asked, they accepted. She wondered for a brief moment if she were doing the right thing. If he were put off too many times he’d move on elsewhere and not give her a backward glance. She didn’t really want to lose him. Shawn was bright; she could enlighten and change him.

"Now," Shawn said, his good humor restored. "I’m as willing as Joe to indulge your whims, but you need to have a little fun, to go dancing," he said with a lopsided grin. "If you stick around those fanatical old hens in the Women’s Party, you’ll even start cackling like one."

Flushing angrily, she pushed her teacup aside. He was hopeless. "Really, Shawn. I don’t appreciate the comparison."

"Sorry," he said briefly, toying with his spoon.

She took a deep breath. She hated to shy away from an issue that was obviously on both their minds, and she knew it would come up again, but right now she wanted to enjoy Shawn’s company. She hadn’t seen him all week, and she didn’t want him leaving angry. "Let’s not discuss the suffragists anymore," she said as pleasantly as she could.

"Suits me." He lightly touched her fingers. "Next month General Long is taking a few of the military brass on a tour of the White House — June twentieth, to be exact — and I’ve wheedled an invitation for you. Would that please you?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "It’s been about" — she squinted at the ceiling fan — "about nine years since I’ve been there. Mother and Dad took Sarah and me one summer day. The rooms were gorgeous, and even then I was impressed. At the end of the day we had a picnic along the Potomac’s banks." She swirled her teacup, studying the residue at the bottom. How long ago that seemed. Her father had been so exuberant, lifting her high on his shoulder and carrying her around, explaining what this painting meant, who donated that vase, and what president had decorated the Red Room. It had been a glorious outing.

"And July twenty-first," Shawn continued, "I want to take you to an army dance. That is, if you can tear yourself away from the suffragists. The dance is especially for the officers, so it should be posh. I want you to wear your best dress. I like your violet gown."

"I’ll wear it, because it’s the only party dress I own. I wish I could have a new dress, but the war curtails everything, what you can eat, what you wear… I’ll be so glad to be able to buy some new clothes."

"I don’t blame you. See this uniform?" Shawn said distastefully, running his finger beneath the high collar. "I’m getting rid of it as soon as peace comes. I can’t wait for my discharge."

She was a little surprised, for Shawn had made a comfortable niche for himself in the military. He was personable, and General Long, waiving protocol, had more than once invited him places where only dignitaries and Washington society mingled. Shawn had been promoted in a matter of the few months that he’d been stationed here, so her puzzlement must have shown on her face.

"Surprised?" Shawn asked with a twitch of his eyebrow.

"I did think you might make the army your career. Look at you" — she grinned, pointing to the three-stripe chevron on his sleeve — "you’re a sergeant already."

"No, I’ve done my hitch. I’m enrolling in law school right here in the city and be the best damn lawyer east of the Mississippi." He winked. "And earn piles of money defending anyone with the greenbacks to pay. You’ll have plenty of new dresses then, Laura."

Did that last statement mean what she thought it did? Did this handsome, carefree soldier sitting across from her really love her? She wanted to ask him what he meant but instead said, "You’ll be a good lawyer, Shawn." And he would, too, but somehow she wished he’d not worry so much about fees. He should be more concerned with people that needed his help, regardless of how many greenbacks were offered to him. Her thoughts turned to the suffragists who had been arrested. Doubtless they’d still be in prison if it hadn’t been for lawyers who donated their time and energy to free them. Well, she had to be practical and realize that Shawn would no doubt become a prominent, wealthy Washington lawyer and magnanimous only when it suited his purposes.

The sun’s slanting rays caused her to ask Shawn the time.

"Holy smoke! It’s almost six!" He jumped up, offering her his hand. "We’ve been here almost two hours, and I’m to report to General Long, and you’re to report to General Paul!" His eyes twinkled, and she smiled back at him. They did have fun together, even if they didn’t always agree.

As they parted company she thought of the two events Shawn would take her to — the White House tour and an officers' dance. Silently she vowed to keep those two engagements with him, no matter how many rallies Miss Paul called.