Page 52 of Olive Becket Plays the Rake (The Seattle Suffrage Society)

Heaven was spending a warm summer morning on the water.

Emil’s oars sluiced through the water with calm efficiency, sending his scull gliding across Lake Washington like a heron.

His body folded and unfolded like clockwork—catch, drive, release.

Catch, drive, release. He inhaled, catching a whiff of cedar and smoke drifting faintly from chimneys on the distant shore.

He exhaled, smiling at the familiar way his muscles bunched and adapted to each movement.

He would be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t mind. It was the good kind of soreness.

A sharp whistle brought his head up. The four-person scull shooting past was crewed by young women, each grinning at him as their coxswain, his sister Astrid, gave him a cocky salute.

He dipped his head in greeting, then laughed as they shot past him.

He’d never catch up, but he didn’t mind that, either.

Didn’t mind the teasing Astrid would give him later. He could take it.

New fathers could adapt to anything.

His heart thudded at the thought of his son.

Only three months old and already the light of his life.

He sped up his stroke, eager to get home to Olive and the baby.

To inhale their scent, now a fascinating blend of violets and baby powder.

To ensure they had both had their breakfast. That they were safe and snug and content.

He glided to the side of the floating house.

Keeping one hand on his oars, he used the other to catch the side of the deck and pull himself close.

In a fluid, well-practiced motion, he brought his knees up, rose, and stepped onto the deck.

Once the oars were safe, he leaned down and lifted the slender boat from the water.

The wet hull sent rivulets shooting down his arms, cooling his flushed skin.

He secured the scull to the deck, then rounded the corner.

He was greeted with the most beautiful sight.

Olive lay dozing in the porch swing, a score of sheet music face down on her stomach.

He padded close, his heart thudding erratically as it did every time he saw her.

Her breath came in gentle puffs, and he was loath to wake her.

Not only was the baby exhausting, but she’d also thrown herself into earning her musical teaching degree.

She was only a few months away from completion, and already so eager to add her new ideas into her lessons.

It seemed to be working; she was in high demand, her rates had gone up, and she only had to perform when she felt so inclined.

As long as she played for him occasionally, she could do whatever she wanted.

He tiptoed forward, but the boards creaked under his feet.

Her eyes blinked open, then settled on him.

She smiled, and it was like being hit with a sunbeam.

“Good morning, darling,” she said sleepily.

“Morning, min k?raste.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her lips. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“My mother has him. Or maybe yours does,” she replied, stretching her bare arms overhead.

Emil observed her with unreserved joy. Her body had changed since he first met her—it had softened, filled out in places that made him ache with affection, desire, and relief.

The changes were proof she was finally living without want, just as he’d promised.

Pregnancy had turned her into something round and magnificent, and though she’d once joked that her ankles had disappeared for good, he hadn’t minded a bit.

If anything, he’d fallen harder. As her body had shifted to grow and care for their child, he’d felt not only desire, but a kind of awe.

Her eyes, though, hadn’t changed. They were still large, luminescent, and capable of sending him to his knees.

No, that wasn’t quite true. Ever since becoming pregnant, her eyes had taken on a new glow.

One that shone from a deep well of happiness previously untapped.

Nothing could dim it—not the endless complications of modernizing the floating house, nor her mother’s uneasy adjustment to their new life there.

Then Jonathan had been born, and some days the boundless, blinding love in her gaze made him want to weep.

“Don’t forget your father is coming for lunch.”

Emil gave a good-natured grimace. “He was here yesterday. And the day before that. No doubt he wants to offer his opinions on our new icebox.”

“He wants to see his grandbaby,” she returned. “And I think he wants to ensure you’re happy. That you’re still satisfied with the work you’re doing together.”

“He wants to be nosy. And you, my beautiful wife, are only defending him because he always chooses your side.” Olive giggled, and the sound was so lovely he had to lean down and press another kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He stroked her shoulder as he moved past the swing.

He peered through the front bay window he’d picked out himself.

Robbie—who now preferred to be called Robert—was sprawled on the floor before the gramophone Emil had gifted Olive for their anniversary.

He tapped his knuckle against the glass, and Robert looked up from the records piled before him.

Emil pantomimed, and the fourteen-year-old nodded and sprang to his feet.

Spindly, long legs propelled him to the kitchen to prepare the coffee.

Their morning ritual had started as Emil’s way of helping the boy feel at home, ensuring he understood that Olive’s marriage didn’t mean he'd be pushed aside. More than that, it was time that belonged to the two of them, separate from the bustle of the women in the house.

Though the slow, companionable starts had been meant for Robert’s benefit, Emil had come to rely on them, too.

He enjoyed the clink of mugs, the steam rising in the cold air, the boy sitting beside him like a quiet shadow.

Some mornings they didn’t say much, just watched the waves shifting on the lake.

Other times, they played a record low and talked about whatever drifted into their heads—birds, bicycles, math, the absurdity of neckties.

Then they’d wash up and head out, Emil to work and Robert to school.

But today was Sunday, and they all moved a bit more slowly.

“He’s growing into a fine young man,” Olive said softly from the swing. “You’re wonderful with him.”

Emil shrugged. “He’s easy to be around.”

“No, he isn’t,” Olive said. “I’ve met bears less prickly than he is these days. My mother has run to yours for advice more times than she’d care to admit.”

Emil joined his wife on the swing. “As if those two need any excuse to drop whatever they’re doing for tea and a bit of gossip.”

Olive laid her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her. “We’re awfully blessed.”

“That we are.”

The door opened a few minutes later, and Robert emerged, the tray in his hands rattling with crowded porcelain coffee cups. The rich aroma of roasted coffee mingled with the bright scent of Mor’s lemon breakfast cake.

“Robert, you shouldn’t have,” he drawled.

Robert rolled his eyes. “They made me.”

Emil glanced over his shoulder as the screen door banged open once more. Anna and Beata poured through, chattering and cooing over the bundle in Beata’s arms.

“I guess they both had the baby,” he whispered to Olive. “We should have known.”

“Jonathan has the best grandmothers he could ever ask for,” she said loudly, and Emil chuckled when both women flushed and preened.

Beata lowered the baby into Olive’s arms. “He’s all washed for his lilla mor. You should have heard the little coos he was making in the bath. Looks like we have another water baby in the family!”

Emil smiled at his son, who stared up at his mother with her exact eyes.

He waved his little fists in the air and gurgled.

Olive bundled him close and nuzzled her nose against him, murmuring something low and silly that made the baby squeal.

He gripped a handful of her hair and pulled with surprising strength, and she only laughed, brushing his cheek with the back of her finger.

It took Emil a moment to realize his mother was talking.

“After breakfast, we’ll be heading to the shops for a few more nappies,” she said. “And last time I was there, I saw the most precious set of wooden blocks. Our Johnny will love them.”

“The baby doesn’t need blocks yet, Mor.”

His mother gasped with dismay and clutched Anna’s arm. “Did you ever hear such blasphemy?”

“It a grandmother’s duty to spoil her grandchild,” Anna insisted.

Emil was going to argue, but Olive nudged his thigh with hers. He glanced down at her, and she shook her head slightly. “He’ll grow into it, darling. And a few more nappies won’t hurt.”

Anna let out a hurrah, then busied herself slathering jam across a piece of cake.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“She’s going to town,” Olive whispered back, her eyes watering. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Wonderful and miraculous. It was almost hard to believe the kind, effusive woman had once been unable to rise from bed.

She still struggled some days, but she was happy again.

She didn’t cry as often, and she looked forward to the future.

Olive had worked tirelessly to get her mother the help she needed.

She’d found doctors willing to make house calls, and she’d hired a nurse who understood what it meant to be truly afraid of leaving home.

It was a long road full of tonics and rest, but also conversation, walking when possible, and a structure to the days that gave her mother something to hold onto.

And through it all, Olive had been at her side.

“It is wonderful,” he agreed. “Like you.”

She smiled and tilted her face toward his for a kiss.

“Ugh, can you two stop doing that when I’m around?” Robert complained, leaning over to pick up another piece of cake. “It’s disgust—”

His words morphed into a squeal as Emil sprang to his feet.

Before he could run, Emil’s bare foot found its mark square in the middle of his brother-in-law’s backside.

Robert pitched off the dock and into the lake with a terrific splash that sent a sheet of water arcing into the air.

He surfaced a moment later, spluttering.

“Now you don’t have to watch,” Emil said sweetly.

Laughter rang across the deck as Robert hauled himself onto the deck, hair plastered across his forehead, clothes dripping.

“I deserved that,” he admitted. “Kiss all you want.”

“Thanks,” Emil replied, then gave Olive a smacking kiss to the cheek.

Anna giggled again. “Into the bath with you, young man. Then you can accompany us into town.”

Robert trudged inside, muttering under his breath.

“Speaking of,” Beata began with a sly look. “Has Seán had his swim yet?”

Anna’s cheeks went red. “I don’t think so.”

Beata latched onto Anna’s arm and drew her toward the side of the deck, sending Emil a wink as they passed. “Why don’t we check? If we’re lucky…”

Their voices faded as they rounded the corner, and Emil chuckled under his breath. If the two women wanted to have a peek at a wrinkly behind, who was he to stop them? Seán didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he’d invited them all to join him, which had caused quite a bit of chaos.

“How long do you think it’ll be before Seán invites your mother over for dinner?”

“Shouldn’t be too long,” she replied, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “They’ve been dancing around each other for months. It’s terribly sweet.”

Jonathan fussed at that moment, and Olive adjusted her bodice to give him her breast. They fell silent, listening as the baby suckled hungrily.

Olive’s expression was one Emil had come to recognize and love—a blend of mild bewilderment and utter adoration, like she couldn’t quite believe this small person had come from her.

It mirrored exactly how Emil felt, every single day.

He eased back onto the bench beside her, careful not to jostle them, and slid an arm around her shoulders.

With his other hand, he reached down to brush his fingers over Jonathan’s downy head, amazed again by how impossibly soft it was.

The baby gave a little sigh and kept feeding, one tiny hand pressed flat against Olive’s chest.

After a while, Olive let her head rest against Emil’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed.

The three of them sat in a quiet that felt almost sacred, the kind of stillness that didn’t need filling.

Nearby, a seagull called, and an engine hummed to life somewhere in the distance.

But on the porch, time slowed to a gentle drift.

The only thing that mattered was this moment—this little circle of warmth and breath and love.

Emil let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

Correction: Heaven was spending a warm summer morning with his family in his arms.

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