The Davenports(46)

Mr. DeWight cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was gentler. “Well, I’m glad you made it.” He rubbed his chin and glanced around the room.

Olivia felt some of her uncertainty fade. “I’d hoped to learn more,” she said. “Is it over? No one seems to be leaving.”

“It will be like this for a while,” he said. “Exchanging ideas and stories.” Mr. DeWight led her to a small table of refreshments. He pointed out the prominent leaders in the group. They lived varied lives, served as conductors in the Underground Railroad, fought in the Union Army, and marched on state capitals.

They had all come here because they believed that Chicago was a city full of opportunity and diversity, where the promise of a new start was achievable. They were right. She only had to think of her father and Mr. Tremaine. Now they had to protect it and grow it. Feeling inspired, she realized Chicago was as much a hub of turmoil and change as any place in the country.

“Miss Davenport?” A woman a few years older than her, skin a deep, rich brown, clutched a sleeping infant to her chest. “Oh, it is you.”

Olivia smiled politely, glancing quickly around to see if anyone had heard her name. “Olivia, please. Have we met before?”

“Not formally,” the woman answered. “They told us that your family donated to the children’s library, that you delivered some of the books yourself. I just wanted to say, my other little one really enjoys them.” She hitched the child higher on her shoulder. “People like you and Mr. Tremaine are truly selfless.”

Olivia froze. “Mr. Tremaine?” Her mouth went dry. She searched the faces in the crowd. In all her schemes to escape the house unnoticed, she had forgotten she could be discovered at any one of these political meetings.

“Yes, my husband is working on his campaign until he can find work.”

Olivia took in the woman’s grateful smile. “Lovely,” she managed to say. How could she have been so careless? The small basement seemed to shrink and the voices grew louder. She scanned the faces for Mr. Tremaine, or anyone for that matter, who could report her presence to her parents.

“It’s too bad he didn’t stay longer. It was nice meeting you,” the woman said over her shoulder as she walked away.

Relief flooded Olivia’s system. She felt dizzy. Mr. DeWight, as if sensing something off, turned for the exit and asked, “Walk with me?”

She nodded and let him lead her to the door. Outside, the summer air was refreshing after the press of bodies in the basement. It smelled like charcoal smoke. They passed a couple pressed close in an alley. Olivia’s ears burned. Washington DeWight was practically a stranger. And no one but Hetty knew she’d even left the house.

“What did you hope to learn tonight, Olivia?” he asked.

They’d stopped under a lamppost outside a diner. The soft clink of silverware punctuated the chatter wafting through the swinging door.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “There is so much I don’t know, or understand.”

“I find myself learning something new every day.” Washington DeWight stuck his hands in his pockets. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

She huffed. “I should leave that to you, Washington?” she asked, eyebrows arched.

“That’s fair,” he said, smiling. “This work is as difficult as it is rewarding.”

Olivia watched him look back the way they had come. His gaze seemed to be registering something she couldn’t see.

“How did you get involved?” she asked.

“My parents were activists. My father was a lawyer and my mother a teacher. I was always surrounded by fighters, people working toward change for the better.”

“So, you always wanted to be a lawyer?”

“No, I wanted to play the saxophone in a jazz band.”

Olivia laughed. When he didn’t join her, she asked, “Wait, are you serious?”

Mr. DeWight, with a wistful expression, shrugged. “I was very good. Determined. But with parents like mine, school won out.”

“I guess living up to expectations is the rule, no matter where you grow up.”

“I suppose so. I don’t regret it, though. Being part of something bigger than me makes me feel closer to them, to my community and every person I meet.” He stood inches away. Olivia stayed still, letting his nearness linger. He was irritating, yes, but interesting. “What would you be, if you could choose?” he asked.

Olivia’s eyes snapped up to his. Her heart raced as she tried to come up with an answer. She stuttered, settling on the truth. “I never really thought about it.” A sudden coldness hit her. “Um, I never . . .” She trailed off at the realization that no one had ever asked what she wanted for her future. Not even herself. “I—Excuse me,” she said.

She brushed past Mr. DeWight. Her feet carried her away from him, from the building full of people so clear in their purpose and passion. She had no idea what she would do with her time if it was not scheduled for her by her mother, society, some days even Ruby. Have I truly been so thoughtless?

“Hey,” he whispered in her ear. He held her gently at her elbow and she turned back to face him. “It’s okay,” he said. His voice was kind. “Good news, there’s always time to decide who you want to be.”