Dorothy Clark - An Unlikely Love

“If you wouldn’t mind sharing your bench for a brief spell, my dear? The woman smiled and leaned on an ebony walking stick. “I’m afraid this hill is a little too much for me to manage in one try. I find I must pause and let my breath catch up to me every so often.”

“It is a bit steep in places. I’m sure that’s the reason for these strategically placed benches.” She moved toward the end of the wood bench and pulled her skirt close. “Please sit down and rest yourself.”

Mrs. Austin sat, leaned back and sighed. “My weary body and sore feet thank you.” She gestured toward the paper with the knob of her walking stick. “I’m sorry to disturb your reading, Miss Bradley. Do go on with it. I shall remain silent.”

“No please, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Austin. I will be glad of your company.” She folded the paper, looked up and smiled. “I have been studying these lecture notes all day. A break from them will be very welcome, I assure you.”

The woman nodded, leaned her walking stick against her knees and reached up to adjust the pin in her flower-bedecked hat. “There is keen interest in your lecture tomorrow afternoon, Miss Bradley. Temperance is an issue that touches us all. And people have strong opinions about it—both for and against.”

And have no trouble expressing them. “That’s certainly true.” She straightened, stared at the woman. “If I may ask, how did you know I am lecturing on temperance, Mrs. Austin? The lecturers’ names are not printed on the schedules.”

“I recognized your name when you introduced yourself to me yesterday. My daughter attended a lecture you gave in Dunkirk. She wrote me all about you. She’s here with me.” Mrs. Austin’s blue-gray eyes focused a kindly gaze on her. “As we learned during the teachers’ meeting, debate is to be encouraged after a lecture is concluded. Are you prepared for that, my dear? Your speaking engagements thus far have been to small welcoming women’s church groups. That will not be the case here. These lectures are open to all, men and women. And temperance is such a volatile subject.”

“Yes...” What if the debate got out of hand? What if she couldn’t handle it? She drew a breath, opened the drawstring on her purse and slipped her notes inside.

Mrs. Austin reached over and rested her gloved hand on hers. “It was not my intent to discomfort you when I proposed your name to John as a worthy speaker on temperance, my dear. But now, since I’ve met you, well...you look so young, close to my daughter’s age. Please forgive this meddlesome old woman for putting you in a position that may be...upsetting.”

So it was Mrs. Austin who had recommended her. “There’s no need, Mrs. Austin.” She tamped down her nerves and pulled up a smile. “I thank you for telling Dr. Austin about me—for gaining me the opportunity to spread the temperance message to so many people. And I appreciate your thoughtfulness in warning me of possible unpleasantness during a debate. But I have faced irate saloon owners and their equally angry patrons and survived. I am sure I will survive the lectures and debates here at Chautauqua, as well.” And the protest she was to lead?

“Here you are, Mother. I despaired of finding you. It’s time you returned to our tent for supper.”

Marissa turned her head, looked at a young woman who stood at the edge of the clearing, her back to the people walking on the path behind her. She took in the young woman’s cowed posture, the shawl draped around her thin shoulders though the day was warm, the downward cast of her eyes. She looked closer, gripped her hands together.

Mrs. Austin stirred beside her. “I’m coming, Rose. I’ve been resting here with Miss Bradley. You remember her from—”

“Yes, of course I do, Mother.”

The young woman gave her a polite nod and a shy smile but made no effort to come closer. It wouldn’t have mattered. She could see the fading bruise beneath Rose’s blue-gray eyes so like Mrs. Austin’s—except for the shadow of fear in them. Her heart squeezed. She smiled and nodded a return greeting, remained seated despite her desire to go and put her arms about the young woman. It was obvious Rose was uncomfortable and only wanted to leave. How well she understood Rose’s need to hide. She reached up and touched her mother’s pendant watch, closed her fingers around it.

“I will be praying for you, Miss Bradley.” Mrs. Austin gripped her walking stick, rose and looked down at her. The older woman’s face was taut, her eyes overbright. “May the Lord bless you for what you are doing on behalf of women everywhere, Miss Bradley. And may He give you courage and strength as you carry on.”

Her throat swelled. Her chest tightened. “Thank you, Mrs. Austin.” She smiled and rose to her feet. “I hope we meet again before the Chautauqua classes are over and we all go our separate ways.”

“Oh, you may rely on that, Miss Bradley.” The older woman’s eyes flashed, her mouth firmed. “Rose and I will both be attending your lectures. And taking part in the after debates. A woman can stay silent only so long! Good evening.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Austin.” She resumed her seat on the bench and waited while Mrs. Austin and her daughter joined the flow of people going up the hill.

Debate is to be encouraged after a lecture is concluded...temperance is such a volatile subject...

Her stomach knotted. She took a breath and straightened, ran her fingers over the smooth enamel of her mother’s watch. Her mother had eyes like Rose’s—except they were green. Once they had sparkled with laughter; now they were shadowed with grief and fear.

Don’t go to Chautauqua, Marissa. Please don’t go. Stop this insane traveling around to strange towns to speak about temperance. You cannot bring Lincoln back, and you may be hurt!

The memory of her mother’s plea brought the answer she hadn’t given bursting forth in a furious whisper. “What does it matter if I am made uncomfortable, or even injured, Mother? It is far less than you and other women like you suffer! And if it helps to stop young men like Lincoln from wasting or losing their lives—” Her voice broke on a sob. She spun about so those walking on the path couldn’t see, covered her face with her hands and waited for the pain to ease.

Muted chatter and laughter came from the people on the path. Birds twittered. A chipmunk rustled through the dry fallen leaves looking for provender. She drank in the peace, absorbed the strength of it into her heart. The tears on her cheeks dried. She clasped her hands in her lap and closed her eyes.

“Lord, please help me when I speak tomorrow evening and the days following. Please don’t let me disappoint Mrs. Austin and Rose and all of the other women who are ashamed or afraid and need someone to speak for them. Please let these lectures bring them comfort and strength in the knowledge that they are not alone. And please let them steer young men like Lincoln away from paths of destruction. Amen.”

Fresh dedication to the temperance cause erased her fears and strengthened her determination. She opened her eyes and glanced up at the sky. The light was beginning to fade. But there was still time to go to the tent and freshen up before going to the hotel to meet Grant Winston.

She rose and shook out the skirt of her plum gown, closing her mind to the question of why freshening her appearance should matter when she was only going to tell Grant goodbye.

* * *

Grant’s strides ate up the distance to the hotel. The science class had been interesting, but disappointing as far as information about improving crops was concerned. So far he had learned nothing with which to counter his father’s continued assertions that he was wasting his time coming to the Chautauqua classes.