The Davenports(69)

Mr. Davenport leaned back in his chair, watching his elder daughter. There was a small smile on his face that made the lines there deepen. He stood and embraced Olivia. “You’ve been spending a lot of time on the South Side. I’m sure they appreciate the help.”

Olivia’s hand knocked over a teacup. She quickly righted it while her father laughed. Her own smile was stiff. Helen had nearly caught her twice coming back home, and Jessie was beginning to wonder why she couldn’t keep the pantry stocked. The community center was as close to a perfect excuse as she could muster. Plus, it served as a meeting place where volunteers for the Tremaine campaign and activists overlapped and worked together. Her presence there as her mother’s proxy or as a close friend of the Tremaine family was not unusual. Hiding in plain sight.

“Will Mr. Lawrence be meeting you there?” Mrs. Davenport asked.

Olivia paused. She looked at her mother then. Mrs. Davenport’s eyes were shrewd; she knew something was amiss. Olivia hated deceiving her parents. She’d convinced herself she wasn’t quite lying. What she, Mr. DeWight, and the others were doing was in the service of their people, if not exactly charity. But each time she stepped out of the house, her stomach tied up in knots.

All the knots loosened, though, each time she saw Washington DeWight, whether onstage or in the street, encouraging the activists to keep hope alive in their struggle for equality.

“Mr. Lawrence will not be there today.”

“Olivia, I don’t like the idea of you traveling by yourself.”

“I won’t be alone,” Olivia said. “Tommy will drive me. There will be a host of other people where I’m going, and Tommy will wait for me outside until I’m ready to leave. I’ll be late for dinner, though. I may stay to serve in the soup kitchen. They’ve been so short-staffed these past few weeks.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Mrs. Davenport said.

“No!” Olivia smiled brightly. “I appreciate the offer, but I think we’ll manage. It is only a possibility I may need to stay.” She tucked the last sandwich away, picked up her skirts, hoisted the basket, and walked away before they could hold her any longer.

She had nearly made it to the stable when Helen stepped into her path. “Where are you going, Livy?”

Olivia started. “The community center,” she replied. Tommy was waiting for her out front and she didn’t want to keep Mr. DeWight wondering where she was.

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “You spend a lot of time there. Are you trying to atone for some scandalous transgression?” Olivia froze. “Ha! You should see your face,” said Helen, laughing.

“I’m glad you’re amused, Helen.” Olivia shouldered past, heart racing. She spent the carriage ride with the echo of her sister’s laugh ringing in her ears and thoughts of the various narrow escapes she’d made over the past few weeks. Until now, she’d been able to avoid suspicion, but she could tell time was running out. Her parents made the expectation of Mr. Lawrence’s official, and preferably public, proposal very clear. Mrs. Davenport was set on a ceremony in autumn now, to give them more time. To everyone on the outside, the pieces were finally falling into place.

Olivia worried about more practical things. Like where they would live. Was she meant to move to England? Mr. Lawrence’s family was in Europe, where he was set to inherit a business of his own. And what would he think of her involvement with the protestors and activists? She would be of no use to the people in Chicago when she was married and out of the country.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt in front of the community center.

“I’ll be here, in this spot, in two hours,” Tommy said.

“Two hours? That isn’t enough time.”

“It is if all you’re doing is bringing food to day laborers.”

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. He was right. “I’ll need you to stall. Please? I need more time.”

“Miss, I do not think this is a good idea, and I reckon we’ll both be in a sorry mess if you get caught. I admire what you’re doing. It’s why I agree to help, but you’re tempting fate.”

Olivia knew word would get back to her parents eventually, but she wasn’t doing anything wrong. And what was the worst that could happen? They continue to hide the ugliest of the truth and shelter her? It was far too late for that. “I’ll try to make it back in time.”

Tommy nodded and drove away. Olivia walked into the community center. The energy inside was magnetic. She was a regular now, and recognized many of the faces around her. It filled her up to have a purpose outside of her household, and one that mattered, a place where she’d become more than her last name. In the small classroom used for adult education, she found Washington DeWight hunched over a table with two gentlemen reading a paper. She enjoyed watching him work from a distance and the effect he had on people. He’d removed his jacket, and his shirtsleeves were pushed up above his elbows. The man to his right tracked his fingers along the page, mouth moving with each word. Mr. DeWight stood quietly, patiently, as the man read.

“Olivia, we weren’t expecting you today,” said Mrs. Woodard.

Olivia handed her the basket. “I brought sandwiches. Clarence said they spent three days in a jail without bread or water last time.”

Mrs. Woodard placed a hand on her arm, “They’ll appreciate this. The papers that came reported more lynching over the weekend. We’re to march. We’ll need full bellies, especially if trouble starts. The sign you made is against the wall.”