Laura placed her hand in her mother’s. "Mom, trust me. I’m enjoying myself now. For the first time in my life I have two boyfriends, and I don’t know what harm there is in that. Who knows what will happen, but one thing I know is that I won’t hurt Joe. He’s been my big brother too long."

The doorbell rang, and Laura squeezed her mother’s hand. "Speaking of big brothers, there’s Joe now."

"Have a good time," Maude Mitchell said, "and tell Joe about Shawn."

She didn’t look back as she hurried downstairs. She knew what her mother meant. Joe knew about Shawn, but he didn’t know how her heart raced when she was with him. Why did she have to tell Joe? She was comfortable the way things were. She wanted their easy relationship to continue without the complication of Shawn O’Brien’s image hovering between them. If there was an opening in the conversation, she promised herself, she’d tell Joe. Otherwise she’d wait.

Relaxing because of her decision, she greeted Joe with unusual warmth. Joe, responding to her effusiveness, kissed her. It was a brotherly kiss, she assured herself.

Later, as they sat under three oaks on a grassy knoll overlooking the Potomac, which wound below them like a green water snake, she nibbled on a chicken leg. As she licked her fingers she frowned. Should she tell Joe now? She looked up to see Joe watching her.

He grinned, white teeth flashing against olive skin. His thick black brows arched as he flipped a shiny penny. "I’ll give you this for what you’re thinking."

"Hmmm, just something Mother and I were discussing." She gazed out at the field of primroses and bluebells. "Mother and Sarah are good at giving advice." She felt mean talking about them this way… they both wanted only her happiness, and she was belittling their conversation.

"Their advice wasn’t about your love life, was it?" Joe asked teasingly, pouring out two glasses of cold lemonade.

"You’ll never know, Joe Menotti," she answered smartly. Too late she realized that this was the opportunity she needed to confess how much she was seeing Shawn and to give Joe warning that he shouldn’t take her for granted.

Although she knew Joe’s feelings were no longer like those of a big brother, taking his little sister for an excursion, still and all she didn’t want their outings to end. She enjoyed his company too much.

"You look very summery in your pink dress," he said.

"Thank you," she murmured, seeing herself reflected in his dancing liquid eyes.

"You’re a remarkable girl. What new adventure have you been up to?"

"Well, next week the suffragists are parading down Pennsylvania Avenue and having a rally afterward." She hesitated. "I’m leading the parade on a white charger, dressed in armor."

"You’re wearing a suit of armor?" Joe asked incredulously.

"Yes," she said in a low voice. "I represent Joan of Arc." She hadn’t mentioned her role before, for fear Joe would laugh at her, but she should have known better than that by now. Joe took her too seriously to poke fun at anything she decided to do.

"Joan of Arc! You’ll be the champion of women’s rights. I can see you now on your white horse with your hair flying and banner waving. That’s what I call dedication." He gave her a warm, admiring look. "What a sight. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!"

She smiled then. Joe always supported her. She loved Joe. She loved Shawn. Which was the right one for her? She cast a probing glance at Joe and felt her heart stir. Then she remembered what Shawn did to her heart, causing it to pound with excitement. She had to admit that Shawn left her breathless with his persuasive love.

He reached over and took her hand. "I have something to tell you."

She looked down at his long, slender fingers, which were gently tracing a circle on her wrist. A delightful tremor tingled through her. Joe had the delicate, sensitive touch of a surgeon’s fingers. She kept her eyes fastened on his tanned hand, hoping he wouldn’t tell her he loved her. Yet when she looked up into his dark eyes, she didn’t know why she was afraid. Hadn’t she loved Joe Menotti since she’d been nine years old? She’d always love him but not like Shawn.

"What is it?" she asked. "If you’re going to give me bad news, save it until later. Why spoil such a perfect day?"

"It’s not such bad news." He sat up and draped one arm over his bent knee, reaching for a blade of grass, and ran it through his fingers. "It’s just that I’m to be inducted into the Army Medical Corps." He glanced at her to see her reaction. Then his eyes shadowed. "Laura, please don’t look so stricken."

She sat up straight. "When?" was all she could utter in a choked, dry voice.

"September first."

"That’s less than six weeks. Oh, Joe. I’ll miss you."

"I won’t be far away," he said wryly. "I’ll be trained right here at Fort Myer. I thought you’d be pleased."

She bent her head. "I’m not. What will I do without you?" And she meant it, too. How she would miss him! Joe’s love was dependable and sure, and it felt wonderful to be in the warm protection of his strong arms. If only the war would end and he could stay here.

"Look," he said matter-of-factly, "I got tired of seeing the poster all over town. On Which Side of the Window Are You? Remember?"

She nodded. The poster was everywhere and showed a young man in a suit gazing out his living room window at a regiment of marching soldiers.

"I want to do my part. Besides" — he laughed — "I know you like uniforms. Now, maybe I’ll be able to give Shawn O’Brien a little competition."

Her eyes widened. She didn’t need to tell Joe about Shawn. He knew.

Chapter Twenty

On July twenty-first, walking to headquarters, Laura thought all week about Joe’s enlistment. He would be a superb army medic, but it was a shame he couldn’t finish his schooling. How many of the men she loved was this war going to destroy? Frank was already dead, Michael was at the front, Shawn might be sent overseas, and so might Joe. What would happen to them? The morning newspaper reported that the Germans were pushing into the Allied lines at Amiens, Château-Thierry, and Saint-Mihiel. Never had she studied a map of France so closely. Marshal Foch admitted that the Allies' position was desperate, and he was depending on American troops to hold the line. Where was Michael in these vast troop movements? Was he still in a trench near Cantigny? Was he on the march? She prayed he would come home safe.

Well, she thought as she strode purposefully through the double doors, she had her own battle to fight today. This parade was drawing the battle lines between the suffragists and the President of the United States.

"Laura," Lucy Burns called out to her, "are you ready to be our lady in shining armor?"

"I’m ready," she called back cheerfully. "I’ve polished the armor until it will dazzle old Senator Shields."

"Three cheers!" Lucy exclaimed, holding up a clenched fist. "We’ll show them that we won’t give up!"

Laura hurried to the dressing room, for the parade would begin in an hour. Groups of women were holding banners, tuning band instruments, arranging flowers in each other’s hair, and lining up their placards.

Catching the excitement, Laura strapped on her leg armor, but before she could pick up the breastplate, Cassie hurried to her side.

"Let me help you, Laura." As Cassie moved toward her she adjusted the yellow sash across the chest of her white voile dress, looking slender and elegant as usual.

"I can use some help. This is heavy!" Together they lifted the armor over her head, and Cassie fastened the side straps.

"I hope I won’t embarrass anyone by falling off my horse," Laura said nervously. She straightened the armor. The metal would be hot on such a sunny July day, and she had to hold the purple, gold, and white banner high, plus sit on her horse straight and tall. "I haven’t been on a horse for two years, Cassie. I don’t know how I’ll handle the charger."

"You haven’t ridden since your father died, right?" Cassie asked softly, handing her the mail gauntlets.

Laura nodded, finding it difficult to speak. Her weekend horseback rides with her father were among her fondest memories. "Dad used to take me to the stables every Sunday." Then she stopped, not being able to speak of the painful memory of their Sunday canters through the park. She remembered that glorious September morning, she on her chestnut mare, and her dad on his bay gelding. It was after that last ride when her father dismounted at the stables that he had complained of chest pains. Later that night he suffered his fatal heart attack.

"I’d better go out and try mounting the horse," she said in a tight voice. She didn’t look at Cassie, only grasped her rolled banner and headed outside.

"Good luck," Cassie called after her.

"Thanks, Cassie, I’ll need it."

Her great white stallion, although beautiful and pawing the ground, was fortunately gentle. She mounted and unfurled her banner, which, unlike Joan of Arc’s standard with the dauphin’s royal emblem, bore only three words: EQUALITY FOR WOMEN.

Starting at the Capitol with trumpets blaring, the dazzling parade began. A contingent of women dressed in white with yellow sashes each carried a purple banner. A long line of yellow taxicabs, the suffragist color, had signs on the doors proclaiming: VOTES FOR WOMEN. A band played "America, America" with Laura leading the procession. Her heart was beating faster than the drum’s tempo. The great white horse pranced and bobbed his head in a stately gait, and she found that her old riding skills were not forgotten.