A Lady's Choice (9 page)

He straightened and put his arm around her. “You have, but I don't want you to keep working so hard. I want to make life easier for you.”

“I hope I didn't do anything to make you think you had to repay me for taking care of you. I did it because I love you. The only repayment I want is for you to be the best lawyer you can be. It don't matter a bit to me how much money you make as long as you remember to let God lead you.”

“I'll remember, Ellen. You taught me that.”

Ellen sighed and pushed to her feet. “Then I guess we better get you packed to leave for Memphis. When do you think you'll go?”

“Mr. Buckley wants me there in two weeks. I thought I might go the middle of next week. That would give me some time to get settled before I report to the office.”

Ellen lifted her hands and stared upward. “My baby brother a lawyer and working in a big law firm. Thank You, Jesus, for blessing us.”

Alex smiled at Ellen's display of gratitude toward God. She'd offered him the only support he'd ever had in life, and he intended to make her proud of him. Right now she might not understand how money would make a difference in her life, but she would later. He intended to give her a life of ease. He'd build her a new house on that rise in the field next to their house, and he'd fill it with the best furniture.

She'd have dresses that would come from the finest stores in Memphis, and there would be a maid to clean her house and a cook to prepare her meals. And they'd travel. First off, he'd take her to South Carolina where their ancestors had lived before traveling to Tennessee in a covered wagon, and maybe later they'd take an ocean liner to Europe.

Although he'd never spoken of this to her, he'd had these dreams for years. When he realized he was falling in love with Sarah, he had included her in his plans. She would be his wife and together they'd give Ellen the life she deserved.

That dream had died when Sarah left to pursue her life with Edna Simpson and Roger Thorne. Just the thought of the man's name made Alex's skin crawl. Although he'd never seen him or even heard of him until Sarah read him the letter, Alex didn't trust him. At first he'd thought it was only jealousy that spurred these feelings, but in the days since Sarah's departure he'd recognized his concerns went a lot deeper.

At the present time, however, he had no idea what he could do. Sarah was right when she said that they were set on different paths. She would be at her school and involved in the suffrage movement. If he was to build his career in Mr. Buckley's law firm, he had to keep as far away from that world as possible.

His heart thudded in despair, and he closed his eyes. “God, please take care of her.”

As a student at Mrs. Simpson's school, Sarah had never appreciated the small class sizes and the well-equipped classrooms. Now as a teacher, she realized how privileged she'd been to attend school here. Her father must have sacrificed to pay the tuition she never thought about. Now, after two weeks in the classroom, she was overcome again with how fortunate she was to work with such an elite group of teachers who were dedicated to their students. As a first-year teacher, she felt lost at times, but the staff had been quick to come to her aid, especially her former teachers who accepted her as an equal. She'd made the right decision in coming here.

Lost in thought, she walked from the building that housed the classrooms into the garden that separated it from the main house and sat down on a bench. She'd just finished reading the first page of the book she'd brought from her classroom when Christine Donovan, another first-year teacher, exited the school.

Sarah scooted over to give her room to sit. “Are you just now leaving for the day?”

Christine dropped down on the bench. “Yes. I had some papers to grade, so I'm later than usual. You don't know how lucky you are to live here at Mrs. Simpson's house. I have a long streetcar ride to my apartment over on Union.”

Sarah only nodded. “I needed a place to live, and Mrs. Simpson needed someone to oversee the students who board. It worked out well for both of us, but I'll probably get an apartment next year.”

“You'd better enjoy living here while you can. It's a lot better than being on your own like I am. I grew up in an orphanage and worked my way through Normal School to get my teaching certificate. I don't mind telling you it's been a struggle.”

Sarah's heart pricked at Christine's words. “I had no idea. But look how it's worked out. You have a teaching job now, and you're able to support yourself.”

A smile pulled at Christine's mouth. “Yes, and there's a man in my life too. Maybe it won't be too long before I won't have to teach. Instead I can be a wife.”

Sarah squeezed her hand. “I hope it works out for you.”

Christine straightened. “Well, enough of that talk. How was your day?”

Sarah slipped her bookmark between the pages and closed the book. “It was fine. I really enjoy working with the younger children. I'm so glad Mrs. Simpson assigned me that classroom.”

Christine smoothed her blond hair into place and straightened the wide-brimmed black hat she wore on her head. “Be thankful you don't have the eighth-grade girls. I don't know if I will survive them or not.”

Sarah laughed and nodded. “I remember what I was like at that age. I must have driven my parents out of their minds.” She patted Christine's hand. “But don't worry. You'll survive.”

She sighed. “Mr. Thorne said the same thing. I hope the two of you are right.”

“Right about what?” Mr. Thorne's voice startled Sarah, and she glanced up to see him standing in front of them.

Christine rose to her feet. “We were just talking about our classes.”

His eyes twinkled. “And you're still worried? I thought you'd gotten over that.”

“I'm trying, but some of those girls are a handful.”

His reassuring smile lit up his blue eyes. “My aunt and I have assured you we have faith in you. I hope you won't worry about it anymore.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thorne. I appreciate the confidence you and Mrs. Simpson have in me.” She glanced back at Sarah. “I need to go. I don't want to miss the streetcar. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Sarah nodded. “Have a good evening, Christine.” She waited for Christine to get out of earshot before she turned her attention back to Mr. Thorne. “Did you need to see me?”

His eyes twinkled, and a mischievous smile pulled at his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder at Christine's retreating figure before he leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial manner. “I saw you sitting out here with your shoes off, and I thought I should come warn you before Aunt Edna spots you. She might not approve.”

Sarah laughed and reached for her shoes that sat underneath the bench. “Then I'd better put them back on. I don't want to be reprimanded after only two weeks on the job.”

His smile deepened, and he pointed to the bench. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“No, please do.” He eased onto the bench in a graceful move that reminded her of the ballet dancers she'd seen at the Orpheum Theater last year. He crossed his legs and pressed the crease in his trousers with his fingers.

“You should know you have nothing to fear as far as reprimands go. Aunt Edna and I are so happy to have you back we wouldn't dream of upsetting you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thorne. I'm glad to be back too.”

A small frown flashed across his forehead, and he tilted his head to one side. “There is one thing I would like for you to do, Sarah.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“I know you had to call me Mr. Thorne when you were a student here, but you don't have to now. I would like for you to call me Roger.”

She gave a small gasp. “I don't know if I can do that. It doesn't seem respectful enough. After all, you are my employer.”

“I know, but we're also members of the suffrage group. I have a feeling you're going to be one of our brightest stars, Sarah, and I want us to work together as equals.” He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Won't you do this for me, please?”

He bent forward, and the afternoon sun sparkled on his blond hair. A pleading look lit his eyes, and she nodded. “If that's what you want, I'll try.”

He smiled and stood. “That's all I can ask. Now I almost forgot why I really came out here. Aunt Edna wanted you inside for an early dinner. She's having something to eat in her room while she gets ready for the meeting here tonight to plan the reception we're having for Mrs. Catt when she comes to Memphis in October.”

Sarah jumped to her feet and clasped her book to her chest. “I haven't forgotten. I can't believe Carrie Chapman Catt is coming to Memphis. It's like a dream come true that I'm going to get to meet her.”

“I know. We're all excited. She's taking her second term as president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association very seriously and is traveling all across the country. We were fortunate to get one of her stops scheduled in Memphis.” He held out his arm. “Now if you'll allow me, I will escort you inside for dinner.”

Sarah stared as his arm several seconds before she hesitantly looped her arm through his. He reached over with his other hand and covered hers as he led her inside to the dining room.

When they entered the dining room, she was greeted with a chorus of welcomes from the student boarders who sat at a long, linen-draped, mahogany table. One reproachful glance from Roger quieted the girls, and they sat silent with their hands folded in their laps.

Roger held Sarah's chair for her to be seated and moved to sit at the other end. Dora, the cook's helper and serving girl, pushed the swinging door from the kitchen open and backed into the room. Steam rose from the large platter of chops she held, and her face sparkled with sweat. She set the meat in front of Roger and cast a quick smile in Sarah's direction before she disappeared into the kitchen.

Within minutes she returned to the dining room with bowls of peas and potatoes. Roger served the food onto plates stacked in front of him and passed them to either side. As Sarah reached for her plate, she noticed Roger studied her from the other end of the table. As his gaze traveled over her face, she remembered how Alex had looked at her, and her hand trembled.

The choice she had made closed a door when she came here, and nothing could change it now. Her thoughts might return to Alex and Richland Creek from time to time, but that life lay in the past. Her heart might cry out for the young man with piercing dark eyes, but he was as dead to her as her parents.

She lifted her fork to her mouth but halted in midair as she caught sight of Roger again. He sat hunched in his chair with his elbows resting on its arms. The water goblet in his hand rotated in small circles, and the candlelight reflected off the large diamond ring on his finger. He studied her with an arched eyebrow and a half smile on his face.

Alex's warning about Roger returned, and she realized he'd been right. She might think of the older Roger Thorne as a father figure, but his feelings for her were anything but fatherly. She had no idea how she was going to deal with this situation.

The night Sarah had looked forward to for weeks had finally arrived. At times she felt as if she should pinch herself to believe she was really in the presence of a woman she'd admired for years—Carrie Chapman Catt. Like others before her, she had dedicated her life to seeking enfranchisement for women and worked tirelessly for the cause.

As Mrs. Catt brought her speech to an end, Sarah and the other guests in Mrs. Windsor's living room rose to their feet and applauded. Sarah had never felt so stirred in her life.

The members of the local suffrage group pushed forward to speak with their guest, but Mrs. Windsor, the hostess for the evening, stepped forward and grabbed Sarah's hand. Her face was flushed with excitement as she steered Sarah in Mrs. Catt's direction.

“Sarah, I want you to meet our guest of honor.”

Sarah's mouth dropped open, and she turned to Mrs. Windsor, who now had positioned them behind the women talking with Mrs. Catt. “Me? Why would you want me to meet her?”

“Because, my dear, I have been very impressed with you since you've been attending our meetings with Edna and Roger. I feel like you have much to contribute to our cause, and I want Mrs. Catt to meet you.”

Before Sarah could protest more, the women in front of her stepped aside, and Sarah looked into the smiling face of a woman she'd read and heard about since she was a little girl. She swallowed her nervousness as Mrs. Windsor pushed her forward.

“Mrs. Catt, this is Sarah Whittaker. She's new to our group, but I sense in her a true dedication to our cause. I wanted you to meet her.”

Mrs. Catt extended her hand, and Sarah grasped it with her trembling fingers. “Oh Mrs. Catt, it's such an honor to meet you. My parents were both avid supporters of suffrage, and I've heard them talk about you all my life.”

The smile on Mrs. Catt's face grew larger. “I'm happy to meet you too, Sarah. I assume from what you've said your parents are no longer alive.”

“No, ma'am. They both passed away, but I've taken up their cause. I intend to see it through until women are granted the right to vote.”

Mrs. Catt motioned to a sofa across the room. “There's a young reporter who wants to take some pictures of me. While he's setting up his lights, why don't we sit down? I like to talk to young women who join our movement about their commitment and what they feel they can contribute to our cause.”

Sarah's heart pounded with excitement as Mrs. Catt led her across the room. As they settled on the sofa, Sarah glanced toward the door that led into the dining room and spotted Roger and Mrs. Simpson watching her. Roger's eyes sparkled, and he stroked his mustache. He gave her a slight nod before he took his aunt's arm and escorted her into the room where refreshments were being served.

“Now,” Mrs. Catt said, “tell me about yourself, Sarah.”

“There really isn't much to tell.” For the next few minutes Sarah spoke of her upbringing in Memphis, the loss of her parents, and her return to Memphis to teach. “All I want is to help achieve what you've worked so hard for.”

Mrs. Catt studied her carefully. “You haven't mentioned a young man. Is there one in your life?”

“There was one but not anymore.” Sarah tried to keep her voice from cracking. “His boss didn't like the idea of my being involved in the suffrage movement.”

“I'm sorry, Sarah. That's not uncommon. My husband is very supportive of my work. If he wasn't, I wouldn't be able to travel about the country so much. Maybe you and your young man will be able to reach some kind of compromise.”

She shook her head. “I don't think so.” Sarah sniffed and straightened in her seat. “But I want to know more about your work. It must be exciting traveling around the country and meeting like-minded people who want to see you succeed.”

Mrs. Catt laughed. “Yes, it's nice to meet like-minded people, but there are a lot who aren't. That's not always pleasant. But I've set myself on this course, and I can't walk away from it.”

“You've been doing this for years. Do you think your efforts are paying off?”

“I hope so. As I said in my speech, I believe the way to win is through reaching our elected leaders. A lot of my time is spent working in local elections so we can get candidates elected to office who are sympathetic to our cause. And I spend a lot of time with those already elected to Congress. We also need to gain their support. So the role of our organization is a more peaceful one fought in the political arena. Of course there are other suffragists who disagree. They have a more militant attitude.”