Love, Come to Me(22)

“We’ve talked about this before, Lucy. I am working very hard in order to make our wedding take place that much sooner. You’ve told me so often that you want to be married as soon as possible, but that can’t be if I interrupt important work in order to go to dances and parties all of the time. I can’t spend the days working and the weekends socializing without finding time to rest. A man needs sleep every now and then!”

“I know that. I do,” she said, her eyes shining with tears. “I’m so very selfish sometimes, but it’s just that I care for you so much—”

“Don’t cry, Lucy. You cry too easily. Only children . . . Lucy, don’t.”

He broke the clasp of their hands to fish in his pockets for a handkerchief, and she put her palms to her eyes, biting her lip. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, heaving a great sigh. Daniel finally found the handkerchief, handed it to her, and winced as Lucy blew her nose with unladylike vigor. “I’ll die if I ever hurt you again,” she said in a muffled voice. “I just wish I had your strength and your patience.”

“I understand. Women just aren’t very patient creatures,” Daniel said, patting her back and then rubbing her shoulders gently. “It’s not in their nature.”

Lucy smiled a little into her handkerchief, making a wry face. But instead of arguing the point, she blew her nose again. “Well, it’s certainly not in my nature,” she said. “But I’m going to work at it. From now on I’m going to be the most perfect—”

“You’re already perfect,” Daniel interrupted, pulling her into his arms and laying his cheek on her hair. “You’re perfect for me.”

She snuggled closer to him, sighing in relief. Only with Daniel did she feel this safe and secure. “I don’t know why you put up with me sometimes,” she said, hugging him more tightly.

“I have for years. I’m not about to stop now.”

After having known him for so long, Lucy couldn’t imagine turning to anyone else for love and comfort, for peace and protection. Tenderly she pressed her face against his chest.

“I’ve adored you my whole life,” she whispered, with all the ardent emotion of youth. “Ever since I was born.”

“Lucy.” His arms tightened, and she felt him kiss her hair. “I can’t hold out against you any longer. All right. We’ll make the wedding in September. We’ll get married this fall.”

Since nearly every family in Concord kept at least one small boat at the old or the new stone bridge, paddling up and down the river was the most popular warm-weather activity. It was impossible to row along the Sudbury branch of the river, which paralleled Main Street, without passing several friends along the way. On this particular day, the Fourth of July, the river was especially congested with traffic. Lucy laughed and called out to many of her friends as Daniel rowed her past the boathouses that flanked the riverbanks. She and Daniel were in the middle of a large group of canoes and boats that drifted lazily in the direction of the Old North Bridge.

“How lovely this is,” Lucy said, trailing the finger of one hand in the cool water while using the other to maintain a grip on the ivory handle of her frothy parasol. The day was hot and humid, putting everyone in a mood of idle contentment. They had all heard the Fourth of July speeches at the town hall and were heading to numerous spots on the river for picnics. Tonight there would be a carnival, in which specially decorated boats would float down the river while fireworks burst in the air overhead.

“Someday I want a portrait done of you in that hat,” Daniel remarked, and she smiled at him. Her hat was small and perched on the front of her head flirtatiously. A spray of coral-colored flowers curled over its plaited straw brim, reaching down to her temple and mingling with her chestnut curls.

“Why, you told me when I bought it that you thought this was a silly hat.”

“Did I? Well, not very practical . . . but charming nonetheless.”

“Me or the hat?”

“You know which one I mean,” Daniel said, looking out over the water as he pulled on the oars.

Lucy wished that he would have taken the trouble to give her reassurance. She took her hand out of the water and shook the droplets from it; a tiny frown drew her dark brows closer together. Lately she had become aware of things that she had never taken serious notice of before, including the fact that Daniel often treated her as if she were a difficult child. In his own words, “not practical but very charming.” She suspected that like many men, he tended to think that a woman’s head was mainly used for holding up a hat. There were certain subjects that he refused to discuss with her in anything but a superficial sense. Politics, for example, was something they never talked about. And when she approached him with ideas or questions, he listened with only half an ear and a complete lack of flexibility, as he had when they had been talking about the recent election of Elizabeth Cady Stanton as the president of the National Woman Suffrage Association. “The whole issue is a waste of time,” he had said flatly, as if that was supposed to end the discussion then and there.

“But I don’t think it’s a waste of time for people to talk about it and listen to others’ opinions on it,” Lucy had persisted. “There’s a lecture about it next week that I’d—”

“Women will never be allowed to vote. In the first place, they don’t need it. They belong in the home, taking care of their husbands and children, making the home a comfortable and restful haven. And in the second place, when a man votes he speaks not only for himself but for his whole family, so women are well represented in the voting booth.”