Page 48 of Olive Becket Plays the Rake (The Seattle Suffrage Society)

“But you’re still here. Still fighting. Still making plans.

It’s time you had someone to help carry the weight.

So I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.

” He grimaced, his voice faltering slightly as he added, “If that’s what you want.

If you’ll forgive me for being a damned fool and taking so long to understand what I needed most. If you love me, even after everything I’ve done wrong. ”

“It’s what I want, Emil. More than anything.” She huffed out a low, awed laugh. He saw her broken pieces and didn’t flinch. Instead, he embraced them. Embraced all of her. How could she resist telling him she felt the same? “I forgive you. And I love you. So much.”

His face broke into a wide, crooked grin. “Thank God.” He pressed his lips to hers in a firm, searing kiss, then rose from his seat. He began to pace, energy building with each step “Now we make a plan.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I do,” he said, already moving toward the door. “You stay here. Watch over your mother. She needs you more than anything right now.” He turned back, eyes blazing. “I’m going to get Robbie. He’s not spending one more goddamn minute in that bastard landlord’s masonry.”

She nodded, relief and peace washing over her in waves. Before, she’d had to choose between her mother and her brother. Now that Emil was there, she didn’t have to. They would do it together.

Just as he reached the doorway, the pipes rang again. Emil turned back to her with a raised brow. “Expecting anyone else?”

She shook her head, puzzled, then rushed to the window. Peering through the grime-streaked glass, her breath caught.

“Winnie…and Clem?” she whispered.

There they were, bundled in thick coats and hats on the stoop, shielding their eyes from the afternoon glare as they looked up. When they spotted her, they waved with frantic enthusiasm.

“They’re supposed to be in Olympia. Did you…did you ask them to come?”

Emil moved to her side and gazed outside with a small smile. “No. I’d like to think they’re here for the same reasons I am.”

“But they don’t know what’s happened.”

Emil shrugged. “Then you’d better go find out.”

Still blinking in disbelief, Olive tugged on her coat and hurried down the stairs. Emil followed her halfway, but paused on the landing behind her. Winnie and Clem surged through the doorway before Olive could speak, talking over one another in loud, excited voices.

“There you are—”

“Oh, thank goodness—”

She didn’t have time to get a word in before they spotted Emil behind her. They stopped short, eyes widening.

“Ladies,” he said, lips twitching with the faintest of smiles. He descended the remaining two steps and paused at Olive’s side. “I won’t come back without Robbie. I promise.”

She gave a shaky nod. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t.” His voice dropped. “Robbie is my family, too.”

Then he walked past the gaping women and disappeared around the corner.

Olive faced her friends. “What are you doing here? What aren’t you in Olympia?”

Winnie waved her hands in the air as if she were clearing a cobweb. “Give me a moment to recover from the shock of seeing you with Emil Anderson again.”

“Does that mean you’re together?” Clem asked eagerly.

Olive managed a small smile. “It does. I think.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve been crying?” Clem asked, the corners of her eyes crinkling with concern.

“Because I have,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I’m in…a difficult situation.”

“I knew it,” said Winnie, casting a look at Clem. “That’s why we left Olympia.”

“Oh no. Clem, you’re the president of our club. You should be there to see the vote through! And Winnie, your article—”

“I can write an article from here,” Winnie interrupted. “And honestly, the press table was full of windbags making light of our cause. I’d much rather be here with you.”

“And no lawmaker was going to change his vote because I was sitting in the gallery,” Clem added. “Truth be told, Olive, there we were, sitting with our sisters from around the state, and it felt wrong.”

“Why?” Olive whispered.

“Because you weren’t there. And neither was Rhoda.”

“We started together,” Winie said, nodding firmly. “And we’re damn well going to finish it together.”

Hope flared briefly in Olive’s chest, followed quickly by guilt that she hadn’t done anything to help. “Has Rhoda been found?”

“No,” Clem said, her voice tight with frustration. “It has been the longest two weeks of my life.”

“We won’t stop searching,” Winnie said, “But right now, we’re here for you.”

“For me?”

“We’ve been worried about you for quite some time, but we didn’t want to press. We thought if you needed help, you’d ask. But we should have insisted. Please accept our apology.”

Olive’s throat burned. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’ve grown too used to hiding things. Too skilled at shame.” She looked down, then admitted, “I was afraid that if you knew how bad things really were, you wouldn’t want to be around me. That I’d become a burden.”

Winnie gasped. “Don’t say that.”

“You are never a burden,” Clem insisted.

“Do you know why I started the society, apart from all the political reasons? Because I wanted to make friends who thought like me. I wanted to create a space where women can feel safe and welcome. Where they have someone to lean on in times of need. Olive, dear, it’s simply your turn. Who knows, maybe I’ll be next in line.”

“Or me,” Winnie said, pulling her into a fierce hug. “Do you understand now?”

Olive nodded against Winnie’s shoulder, her breath shuddering. Winnie’s embrace was a close second to Emil’s—warm, safe, and full of love. She stayed there a moment before pulling back.

“So tell us, dear,” Clem invited softly. “What’s going on?”

Olive took a long, steadying breath. The words stuck at first—they were so rarely used—but then they came. “I…I need help.”

Clem smiled. “Then help you shall have.”

“Is it your mother?” Winnie asked, and Olive nodded miserably.

“Among other things.”

“Then we’ll start there,” Clem said briskly. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll put the kettle on. We’ll sit, we’ll talk, and we’ll wait for Emil to come back with Robbie.”

Olive led the way upstairs, the faintest glimmer of hope buoying her.

The foyer still smelled of mildew. The water stains on the ceiling hadn’t faded.

But neither woman flinched nor wrinkled their nose.

They simply marched forward, as if the only thing worth their concern was Olive.

At the door to her apartment, she hesitated.

“My mother isn’t well. She might not rise from bed. She might not speak.” She lifted her gaze, bracing for judgment or unease. But all she found was compassion.

“Then we’ll take turns sitting with her,” said Clem. “Until she’s better, or until we find someone who can help.”

Winnie reached for her hand. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Olive opened the door, and her friends’ support carried her through.