The Davenports(96)

“What’s the matter, sweet?” he asked. He tilted her head to catch her eyes. She looked at her father, the newer wrinkles lining his brows and the proud nose they shared.

“Nothing,” she said. “This is nice.”

“We should do it more often.”

The song ended and Helen escorted him to where he’d propped his cane.

“When you see your sister, send her my way. I’d like to dance with all my girls tonight.” He kissed her gently on her cheek. When he stood back, Helen’s mouth was still parted with Olivia’s alibi out of reach. “Helen,” he said sternly.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said quickly. She looked at the entrance to the hall.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing! I think Livy went to bed—she wasn’t feeling well.” Helen slipped her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see her pick at her nails.

“She’s been quite unwell lately. Perhaps I should check on her.”

“No!” she said. Helen stepped into his path. At least you’re closer to the door. “I can check on her and report back to you.” She fumbled for what to say next. She usually wasn’t this clumsy in talking her way out a mess. Her etiquette lessons had jumbled her mind! She was sure, in this moment, they had honed all the wrong skills. Mrs. Milford would be proud, but now she was on her way to disappointing her sister. Olivia would be devastated.

“Olivia is there,” he said. The statement was as much a surprise to her as it was to her father’s delight. Along the far wall where her mother and other matrons relaxed on couches, her sister floated like a vision in white.

“I’ll go tell her you’re looking for her.” Helen didn’t wait for her father to answer. She weaved through the crowd and dodged Greenfield, keen as he was to ask her to do a picnic or something equally dull.

“Livy.”

Her sister turned at the sound of her name. “Helen, you and Daddy made quite the pair.” Though her tone was bright, Helen heard the shakiness in her voice. Mrs. Davenport eyed her daughters from her perch on the couch.

“I thought you were ill,” Helen said.

“I feel much better now. I just needed to rest for a while.” Olivia smiled tightly at Helen. Something was wrong, so very wrong.

“Fantastic. May I speak to you?” She said, threading her arm through her sister’s and dragging her in her wake.

In the privacy of the library, she demanded an answer. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “I was standing on the platform when Hetty’s cousin found me. He told me she’d been arrested—”

“Hetty was arrested?”

“I went to the station to get her. She’s with Jessie and Ethel now.”

“You went like that?” she asked, looking at her sister’s gown.

Olivia’s laugh was hollow. “You should have seen the officer’s face.” Her chin quivered and she sank into the nearest chair and placed her face in her hands.

Helen sighed. “What are you going to do, Livy?”

She shrugged. Helen had never seen her sister so unsure of herself.

“Mama caught me before I left. She told me how she and Daddy tried living the life of activists and how little impact it made. Did you know they did that?” When Helen shook her head, Olivia said, “I barely made it to the station on time and all I could think about was that they tried.” Quieter, she added, “And then I realized there is so much left to be done, including seeing this campaign through, how can I think of leaving now?” She stopped short. “I saw him looking for me, and when he found me, I couldn’t move. That’s when Hetty’s cousin came up to me.” Olivia cleared her throat. “I’m going to keep working here. Just because he moved on doesn’t mean I have to.” Olivia hugged herself. “What happened with Mr. Lawrence?”

The sound of his name felt like the reopening of a wound barely on the mend. Tears began to fall.

“Helen.” Olivia rushed to her side and smoothed her hair away from her face, making her feel young and small again. Helen fell onto her shoulder, and told Olivia all of it. By the time she was done, Helen’s face felt tight and puffy. She should have just gone to the garage, stayed there. But as her sister rocked her and whispered soothing words she was too upset to understand, Helen knew that this moment was priceless.





CHAPTER 45


    Amy-Rose



The first tears began to fall as Amy-Rose passed through the kitchen’s swinging door. One look at her face, and Jessie set the rolling pin to the side. Amy-Rose rounded the table and embraced the cook. Jessie wordlessly held her while she sobbed. “I’m just a maid,” Amy-Rose said into Jessie’s shoulder. “I’ll always be a maid.”

Jessie took Amy-Rose’s face in her hands and took a step back. The small gesture silenced Amy-Rose, who couldn’t believe she had any more tears to shed.

“Ain’t nobody just anything. Especially you. And you don’t need any man to make your dream come true. I expect that’s what this is about.”

Amy-Rose took a deep breath, though it hurt. She remembered her mother and how she found a way. So would she. The weight of the notebook in her apron grounded her. Jessie was right; she could do it. But she couldn’t do it here at Freeport Manor . . .