The Cure for Dreaming(9)

“The protest turned somewhat volatile.” Percy removed his top hat. “My father yelled out the window for them to all go home before he set the police on them.”

“I don’t blame him. That must have been appalling.” Father darted another quick glance my way, which turned my stomach into a flip-flopping jumble of nerves.

He knows I was there.

“Well”—Father cleared his throat—“that sort of behavior is inexcusable for a woman. If my own daughter ever dared to throw a tantrum like that on the courthouse steps, I’d pull her out of school and send her straight to a convent.” Father snorted. “And I’m not even Catholic.”

Percy laughed as if he had just heard the wittiest joke ever uttered, perhaps to humor Father, but he straightened his posture and sobered when he caught my unsmiling reaction. “Oh, I doubt Olivia has ever done anything wrong in her entire life, sir. There’s no need to worry about her. In fact, the entire city just witnessed her strict obedience this evening.”

Father stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“She was hypnotized. That hypnotist fellow we went to see—Henri Revelry—”

“Reverie,” I corrected Percy.

“He called her up to the stage and put her under his spell. She did everything he asked of her.”

Father spun toward me. “You were hypnotized tonight, Olivia?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“And you did everything asked of you?”

“Apparently so.”

“Well, g-g-good. Good girl.” He slipped his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead again. “That’s my Olivia. An exemplary model of fine manners and strict obedience.”

“And she was positively breathtaking,” added Percy. “If I may be so bold, sir, I’d say tonight on that stage your daughter was the loveliest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Really?” Father cocked his head, sounding a little too skeptical that I could have been that lovely.

Percy fussed with the brim of his hat. “May I ask you a question, sir?”

“Of course,” said Father.

“I was wondering if I might take Olivia with me to an event Friday night. Sadie Eiderling invited me to her birthday supper.”

“Sadie Eiderling?” Father’s eyes expanded at the mention of the local beer baron’s daughter, and I swear I could see the glow of rich golden ale sloshing about in his dazed irises. “You want to take Olivia to a party at the Eiderling mansion?”

“I realize you don’t necessarily know me well enough for me to escort your daughter to such an event, but I’m a respectful young man with a reputation for impeccable behavior.”

Father rubbed his lips and seemed to weigh his decision with great care.

“If you need to think about the proposal before answering,” said Percy, “I’d understand . . .”

“Yes, let me get back to you before I extend such a privilege to Olivia. I’ll send a note over to your house tomorrow evening.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your considering the offer.” Percy planted his hat back on his head, and I could feel the enchantment of the evening dissolving into the ether. “Well, I hate to scuttle off so quickly, but I need to go home so Mother doesn’t worry. Thank you for letting me drive you home, Olivia. Good night, Dr. Mead.”

“Good night, Percy,” I said.

“Good night, son.” Father closed the door and allowed Percy to dart back into the rain and the darkness.

I lunged for the staircase behind me.

“Wait.”

I turned and braced myself against the banister. “Yes?”

“After you left for the theater this evening”—Father shoved his handkerchief into his breast pocket—“I received a telephone call from one of my most prestigious patients, Mr. Underhill.”

“Mr. Underhill?”

“He owns one of Portland’s largest shipping firms.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“He was at the courthouse this afternoon.”

I gulped and turned my attention to the toes of the rain-freckled shoes peeking out from beneath my skirt.

“Olivia,” said my father, “look me in the eye.”

I did as he asked, raising my chin to bolster my confidence.

He lifted his chin as well. “Why did you humiliate yourself by standing in that crowd of hysterical women? Mr. Underhill said men pelted you with rotten eggs.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Why were you there?”

“A friend’s sister is a member of the Oregon State Equal Suffrage Association, and I decided to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Mr. Underhill said you were chanting with the women.”

“That is correct.”

“Why?”

“Because I would like to vote for president when I’m older.”

Father pinched his lips into a scowl that turned his face lobster red, and his entire body quaked, as if blasts of lava were about to spew from the top of his skull. “Olivia Gertrude Mead, my hope for you since the day your mother left was that you would grow up to be a rational, respectable, dignified young woman who understands her place in the world.”