Stories From Suffragette City by M. J. Rose & Fiona Davis & Kristin Hannah

Author:M. J. Rose & Fiona Davis & Kristin Hannah [Rose, M. J. & Davis, Fiona & Hannah, Kristin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Feminism, Anthologies, Politics
ISBN: 9781250241320
Goodreads: 49672320
Publisher: Henry Holt & Company
Published: 2020-10-27T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

It was a crisp October afternoon. The trees on the avenue rustled in the wind. The side streets were quiet, drained of people. After running several blocks, Kira stepped into a vestibule to catch her breath. She’d kept expecting to hear the matron’s shout, or a policeman’s whistle, but no one was behind her. She knew she was conspicuous in her coarse orphanage coat, carrying the brown valise, so she tied her coat around the waist of her dress and tucked the valise in a corner of the vestibule; if she could, she’d come back for it later. Spying an errant sash with purple and green stripes in the gutter, she put it on. Votes for Women. Now she looked like any parade-goer.

She hurried toward the noise, which surged to a roar as she got closer. Crowds twenty deep lined both sides of Fifth Avenue, many wearing sashes and pins. She slipped through the throng, all the way to the front, and peered down the street.

She’d never seen so many women in one place. All shapes and sizes, young and old. Row after row of them marching in formation, unsmiling, wearing floor-length white dresses, multicolored sashes, and large hats. Old women hobbled along with canes; young mothers carried children or pushed them in carriages. Some marched with American flags that flapped in the wind. Others carried placards from states all over the country: GOVERNMENT LEAGUE OF MARYLAND, WOMEN OF OHIO, NEW YORK CITY WOMEN HAVE NO VOTE AT ALL …

A lively brass band passed by, trumpets and trombones blaring. Then five women hoisting a large banner: NEW YORK STATE DENIES THE VOTE TO CRIMINALS, LUNATICS, IDIOTS & WOMEN. A group on horseback clip-clopped along, the horses wreathed with garlands of white flowers, the women wearing matching flowers on their hats. A group of four carried ballot boxes on a stretcher; men wearing white jackets and boater hats marched by, sporting orange-and-black buttons in solidarity.

As Kira stood on the sidewalk, taking it all in, she heard a whimper beside her. She looked down to see a young girl with ringleted auburn hair, wearing a white dress and coat and a satin sash that spelled out Miss Suffragette City. She carried a large brown box.

Kira stepped back a little. This girl was not her problem. But when the girl looked up, her face was streaked with tears and her bottom lip trembled.

Kira sighed. “Are you all right?”

The girl shook her head.

“Where’re your parents?”

“I’m … I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.”

“Ah.”

For a moment they stood silently, watching the parade. Then the girl blurted, “I’m lost. I was with my aunt and my uncle, but I turned to take a picture of a woman on a horse, and when I turned back, they were gone.”

“D’ye know your address?”

She sniffed. “I’m staying with my relatives. They have a chauffeur. I never paid attention.”

“What’s a chauffeur?”

The girl smiled a little. “A man who drives you around.”

Kira looked at her, noticing the mother-of-pearl buttons on her creamy dress and the fine stitching on her bodice.

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