Page 50 of Olive Becket Plays the Rake (The Seattle Suffrage Society)

Olive sat beside the bed, coaxing her mother to take another sip of hearty broth. Thank God the stupor had passed. She was upright now, if still silent. That was something. And more importantly, Robbie wouldn’t be frightened when he saw her. Or, at least, not as frightened.

“Emil will have Robbie home any minute,” she murmured, lifting another spoonful to Anna’s lips. “His note said they’d be here by suppertime.”

Home. Hungry. And clean.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d been dreading seeing her sweet baby brother after his first day in the masonry until Emil had reassured her that she wouldn’t have to.

No soot-streaked cheeks, no grimy fingernails.

Just her little brother, safe and scrubbed.

The lump that had been lodged in her throat since morning swelled again.

Of course Emil had thought of that. Of shielding them—especially Anna—from the worst.

He loved her. And when Emil loved someone, he protected them.

Olive set the spoon into the empty bowl and placed it on the nightstand.

She dabbed a drop of broth from her mother’s cheek with a soft cloth, then let her eyes wander around the apartment.

It already looked half-empty. Their belongings were either scattered across the floor in organized piles or neatly placed into the assorted boxes Clem had sent out for.

From the kitchen came the low rumble of friendly bickering, her friends packing up the last of the dishes.

She glanced back at her mother, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“What do you think, Mama? Am I doing the right thing moving us into Longfellow House?”

Anna’s gaze drifted toward her, but didn’t quite land. Olive sighed.

Clem hadn’t been inside five minutes before declaring it was the Becket’s last night in their apartment.

She’d taken charge at once, sending her driver around for packing materials and ordering in a sumptuous meal.

Olive hadn’t argued. How could she? Once Emil removed Robbie from the masonry, Mrs. Drake’s wrath would be fully unlocked.

They’d be evicted, and she’d have to find someplace to go.

Why not take an offer from a dear friend?

Although she wished it had come from Emil.

She shook her head at once. Look at her, immediately expecting Emil to move mountains for her right after they’d made up.

It would be impossible for them to all reside at the floating house, not before they were married, anyway.

That dream would have to wait just a little bit longer.

In the meantime, Longfellow House would be a wonderful interim.

She would have support from a gaggle of capable women.

Robbie would have stability—even though he might resent the extra women ordering him around.

Her mother would be close to First Hill hospitals, where she could receive the best care—although returning to her old neighborhood might bring up bad memories. No, no. It was the right choice.

“Olive, look what I found in the drawer.”

Clem’s voice shook her from her reverie. She glanced up, then let out a breathless laugh, the sound thin, but real. In Clem’s outstretched hand lay a crinkled scrap of paper, the unmistakable loop of Olive’s handwriting revealing the first verse of She’s a Suffragette.

“The cat’s fully out of the bag now, isn’t it?”

Clem crossed the room with her familiar, careful gait and settled onto the stool by the bed. A small smile was on her lips as she looked at the paper, then back at Olive. “We haven’t found time to talk about it, have we?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” she blurted out, the rush of guilt burning in her chest. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t sure you’d be happy about it.”

Clem’s brows rose in surprise, then snapped down into a scowl. “The day I’m not proud of any Society member for doing something brave to charge the movement is the day I step down from leadership.”

“Yes, but…I used the word suffragette, and you said that WESA disapproves. I didn’t want to get you or our group into trouble.”

“As if anything worth doing didn’t invite a little trouble.

” Clem waved her hand dismissively, the gesture surprisingly casual.

“Semantics are interesting indeed. Here’s what I think.

Reclaiming a word is a form of resistance itself.

Why shouldn’t we take a term they meant to insult us with and twist it into something we can be proud of?

Your anthem is full of fire and spirit, and anyone who hears it can feel it.

So many people are eagerly adding their own verses, and each time they do, they invite a friend or loved one into the fold.

Olive, you’ve done what many of us, including me, have only dreamed of.

You've made it our word, not theirs. Never apologize for that.”

Olive’s heart swelled with warmth, but the doubts remained.

There was one thing she still had to ask.

“Are you disappointed I didn’t reveal myself?

That I wrote another anonymous letter instead of standing up, instead of saying something more bold?

” Her voice faltered. “I know it wasn’t the bravest choice, and I know I should have been able to—”

“Olive, no. Stop.” Clem rose and sat on the bed beside her.

Looped her arm through hers and commanded her attention.

“If there's one thing I’ve learned from all of this, it’s that protest comes in many forms. The movement doesn’t need us all to be loud or in the public eye.

What matters is that each of us is doing what we can with our talents, our time, with whatever we’ve got.

That’s what makes it work. Every single woman has to decide for herself what form her resistance will take. ”

Her grip tightened on Olive’s arm. “Your choice to remain anonymous to protect your family is valid. It doesn’t diminish your contributions. And if there are some days when all you can do is muster the courage to stay true to yourself in some small, personal way, then that, too, is revolutionary.”

The lump rose again in Olive’s throat, and her eyes burned. “Thank you, Clem. It means so much to hear you say that. I haven’t felt like I’ve done enough.”

“You’ve done more than most,” Clem said, her voice thick with quiet conviction. “And it’s perfectly all right if you need to step back sometimes. It's all right to take a breath, take care of yourself, take care of your family. Frankly, I’d be mad at you if you didn’t.”

Olive laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured, the heavy weight resting on her chest for months finally lifting.

The front door burst open with a bang that echoed through the apartment. Olive jumped, her breath catching as her heart slammed into her ribs. She was on her feet before she even registered moving.

“Mama, I’m home!”

Robbie’s voice rang out, high and bright with joy.

As if he hadn’t just been forced to do a man’s work.

As if he was still a happy little boy. As if nothing in the world had changed.

Before Olive or Clem could do more than scramble aside, Robbie launched himself onto the bed in a blur of energy.

He nestled into Anna’s side like a child half his age, nuzzling her shoulder and letting out a stream of delighted little monkey noises.

Anna’s eyes, cloudy and distant only minutes ago, sharpened as they found her son’s face. “Robbie,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tight, burying her face in his hair.

Olive’s hand flew to her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and unstoppable. Her mother was back. Her brother was back. They were together again. Yet…

She turned to the doorway. Emil stood there, quietly watching, waiting, raw emotions flickering over his face like cascading music notes.

She raised a trembling hand toward him, unable to form words.

She didn’t need to. In two long strides, he crossed the room and folded her into his arms. She collapsed against him, burying her face in his shoulder, letting herself fall into the safety he offered.

“Thank you,” she wept into the crook of his neck. “Thank you, thank you—”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, holding her tighter. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you, min k?raste. Always. Forever.”

The circle was complete.

Olive had just finished rinsing and drying her face when voices rose behind her.

“She isn’t moving in with you,” Emil insisted.

“Well, she can’t stay here,” Clem replied.

“Obviously not. She’s moving in with me.”

“So you can ruin her on top of everything else they’ve been though? That’s a brilliant plan.”

“Don’t talk to me like I don’t know what they’ve been through.

” Emil’s tone was quickly changing from mild irritation to full-blown annoyance.

“Like I’m what’s bad for her. I was there, unlike you.

I was there when she was hungry. When she fainted.

When she felt trapped. I helped her when no one else would. Where were you?”

“I’ve also been there—”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve devoted yourself to the vote. To finding Rhoda. And in the process, you overlooked Olive. Because she’s quiet. Because she’s gentle. Because she doesn’t demand your attention the way some others do.”

Clem’s gasp was raw and wounded. “I never—”

“Enough!” Olive shouted, her dismay making her voice sharp. The room fell silent. Even Robbie held still in the bed. “That’s enough from both of you.”