Breathless(24)
Kent threw back his head and laughed. Regan was destined to give some man a run for his money in the future, too. He hoped to be around to watch.
“See you later,” she said before disappearing into the crowd.
Kent made his way to the buffet and thought about what Regan had revealed. He didn’t really understand what she’d meant about Portia being afraid of herself sometimes. He knew about their mother and that she’d mailed her young daughters to Eddy in Virginia City unaccompanied. Admittedly he and his father had locked horns while he was growing up. Having lost his mother during his birth, Kent spent a lot of time being resentful because Oliver’s profession kept him away from home more than he wanted, but he’d never treated Kent as less than his son—nor had he ever sent him away. That Portia’s mother had must have been painful. Was Portia’s cast-iron demeanor something she used to protect her still-fragile feelings? Had she and her sister heard from their mother? Kent found this all very interesting and it further stoked his need to learn more about her. With his plate now filled, he made his way through the pandemonium and headed for the door so he could get some fresh air and find Portia.
Portia was glad to be outside with Eddy and her friends and not in the madness going on inside Mr. Blanchard’s ranch house. Like some of the other people attending they were seated on blankets spread out on the ground beneath a small stand of ponderosa pines. Portia enjoyed her aunt Eddy’s friends because they were all forward-thinking women and did what they could to uplift the race with their volunteer work in the community and their support of women’s suffrage. At the moment they were discussing a women’s convention being held in San Francisco in a few weeks and the prospect of them all attending.
“So are we decided?” Eddy asked.
Everyone nodded except Mamie Cordell, the wife of the African Methodist Episcopal pastor and the mother of Portia’s suitor James. “I’ll have to see if my Bertram will let me go,” she confessed. “You know he’s not a forward-thinking man sometimes.”
Eunice Forth, Mamie’s sister, groaned, “Oh my goodness, Mamie, I told you twenty years ago not to marry that man.”
Julia Lane, said, “So did I.”
“I thought he’d change.”
“Into who, Fred Douglass?” her sister asked. “Even with all his personal scandals, Fred the Great supports women’s suffrage.”
Suffrage for women continued to be one of the most widely discussed topics on the nation’s agenda. More and more women of the race were jumping on the bandwagon even as some White women were doing their best to keep their darker sisters away from their conventions. In response, the Colored women were sponsoring their own conferences and the gathering being held in San Francisco would be one.
Apparently knowing she was losing her battle, Mamie said, “I’m changing the subject. Portia, when are you going to give my son, James, the time of day?”
Portia sighed. Before she could explain to Mrs. Cordell for the two hundredth time why she had no plans to marry, her son or anyone else, Eddy came to her rescue. “Mamie, you know he and Portia would never suit. James is much too shy. He hardly says a word when he’s near her.”
“But marriage may change that.”
Julia laughed. “The same way you marrying Bertram changed him? Leave our Portia alone. As much as I love my husband, Howard, had times then been like they are now, I may have chosen not to marry either.”
Eunice added, “Stick to your guns, Portia. If you don’t wish to marry, don’t. You young women have opportunities we old hens never even imagined having. You’re doctors and teachers. You’re working in banks and writing for newspapers. All we were expected to do was marry and birth children.”
Portia loved them all. They’d been a supportive group of mother hens since she was young. When she and Regan went to Oberlin, the ladies took turns writing to them and occasionally sent little gifts like ear bobs, combs for their hair, and writing tablets and pens to let them know they were thought of and loved.
With the issue of her courting stance tabled, the conversation moved back to the convention and speculation as to who the sponsors might bring in as the main speaker. Portia hoped it would be Frances Watkins Harper the former abolitionist she’d always wanted to hear speak. Portia was about to say that when a harried-looking Missy Landry came over to where they were sitting and asked, “Ladies, can you give me a hand in the kitchen? The girls I hired have to go home and I need to fry more chicken.”
Portia couldn’t believe all the chicken Eddy and her friends supplied was gone but the crowd was a large one. Since it was well-known that she’d be of little assistance, the ladies gathered up their blankets and followed Missy, leaving Portia alone. Before she could get to her feet and make her way back to the house to find Regan, James Cordell walked up and said shyly, “Hello, Miss Portia. How are you?”
She looked up. “Hello, James.” Given the way he kept glancing from her to the blanket, she assumed he was waiting for an invitation to join her. She got to her feet instead, just as Darian Day walked up. Wondering what she’d done to deserve such a boon, the situation went from bad to worse when Edward Salt suddenly appeared. Why he was at the wake was beyond her since she was pretty sure he didn’t even know Mr. Blanchard. The men all began talking at once, but James, apparently intimidated by the blustering Day stood silently while Salt did his best to lord it over Day with pompous boasting about his Howard education and the school he planned to open. Portia felt a headache coming on.