“I still have time to decide.” The party was still the better part of a week away.
Her mother pointed at the books and shook her head. “You’re wasting your time.”
Mattie stared heavenward. “So is fussing over what to wear for a dinner party I don’t wish to attend.”
“Not when your appearance can entice a potential husband.” Her mother frowned. “Instead of hugging sacks of grain, you should be improving yourself.”
“I am improving myself. I’m growing stronger.”
Her mother’s frown turned into a scowl. “Where will that get you? A potential husband and his family will be more impressed by your proficiency at needlepoint, drawing, dancing, and music than by your physical strength.” Which were coincidentally all the subjects her mother had hired a tutor to teach her, with the addition of literature. Unfortunately, only literature had been of interest, and Mattie’s stubbornness had driven away said tutor.
Her mother didn’t understand. “I am attempting to impress a potential husband,” Mattie mumbled.
“What did you say?”
Mattie crossed her arms over her chest, her frustration mounting. “You aren’t proficient in any of the accomplishments you’ve listed, yet you married a fine man.”
“Maybe so, but you have an opportunity to better your position in society, an opportunity I never had,” her mother argued.
Did her mother not see what was truly important? “Is your life really so miserable? You’re married to a man you love. You never go hungry, and you have a solid roof over your head.”
“Don’t talk back to me,” her mother ground out.
If only her mother would listen instead of always pressing her views. “I have no interest in learning needlepoint or drawing. I want to make a difference in the world.”
“Ah yes, by giving women the right to vote.”
The sarcasm in her mother’s tone tested her patience to the utmost. “I don’t understand how you could possibly oppose getting the right to vote.”
Her mother planted her fists on her hips. “Why do I need that right? How will voting change my role as a mother and wife?”
“Voters have power. Politicians have no choice but to listen to what voters want if they wish to be elected.” She looked her mother in the eye. “Only if we get the right to cast our ballots can women achieve equity with men.”
“Equity with men,” her mother scoffed. “In what way do we want equity?”
“In all ways. We should be able to work the same jobs, be given the same educational opportunities—”
“To what end? Do you not want to marry and raise a family?”
Was that the only path in life a woman could take? “If a man can have a career and a family, why can’t a woman?”
The exasperation on her mother’s face wasn’t a surprise.
“If a woman chooses to work, who will manage the household and care for the children?” her mother pressed.
“You work, and you’ve managed a household and cared for your children.”
“I didn’t have a choice, and it hasn’t been easy. I would have gladly devoted all my time to you and your sister.”
The sincerity in her mother’s tone rang true, and she had every right to desire an entirely domestic life. In all honesty, someday Mattie did want a family, but women should have the opportunity to have so much more. “You wish to see me marry a rich man. Those with wealth have governesses and staff to rear the children and manage the house.”
“Even so, what man would want a woman who aims to compete with him on every level? Besides, there’s no need. Women have influence over their husbands and sons. Even without the vote, we have our own form of power.”
Arguing any further would come to naught. “How is it our views are so wildly different?”
“How indeed,” her mother groused. “Do you really believe the world will magically change because you can cast a ballot when those on that ballot are all men? What’s more, politics is fraught with corruption. Why would women want to get caught up in that nasty business?”
Her mother had a point. Getting the right to vote wouldn’t solve all the country’s problems. It only served as a first step. “That’s why we need to have influence as to who is running for office. I believe, eventually, we’ll see women on the ballots too.”
Her mother heaved a breath. “Perhaps the future you envision might be all fine and good. I simply wish you would spend more time focusing on what’s truly important to your immediate future.”
“What is going on down here?” her father asked from the top of the stairs.
“Walter, come talk some sense into your daughter.”
Her father clomped down the stairs, a wary expression on his bearded face. He’d had to mediate arguments between mother and daughter too many times to count. “What is your complaint, my dear?”
“Your daughter is down here dragging sacks of grain across the floor. Tell her to stop and … listen to her mother!”
“Mattie, stop and listen to your mother,” her father said, his tone flat.
“Walter,” her mother warned.
Mattie turned to her father. “Who am I hurting when I tote crates and sacks around in order to improve my strength? I’ve committed myself to completing the training required of a firefighter, but my physical strength is lacking, for now.”
“She should be focusing on her future rather than wasting her time on a whim,” her mother insisted.
Perhaps she had decided to become a firefighter on a whim, but she was also planning her future, a future with Jack. “I have to live my life according to my conscience.” Before her mother could chastise her more, she added, “I have agreed to meet the Cogswell’s nephew at the dinner party. I am acceding to your wishes to a degree. But I also have my own ideas, my own plans, and I won’t give them up.”
Her mother pinned Father with a pointed look. “Walter.”
Her father shrugged. “Mattie is a good girl. She does what you request of her. Isn’t that what’s important?”
“I don’t know why I expected you might chastise her. You coddle her too much.” Her mother let out a huff and marched up the stairs. “We want her to have a better life than we have.”
“She will,” her father called up the stairs as her mother escaped their view. His kind gaze came to rest on Mattie. “I trust that she will.”
Sometimes it seemed her father knew her best. She wasn’t like her sister, whose views aligned well with Mother’s. With two daughters, perhaps her father saw her more like the son he never had. Whatever his reasons for being indulgent toward her, she would be forever grateful.
Her father crossed the room toward a stack of crates in the corner. “It would be in your best interests to avoid arguing with your mother.”
“What am I to do? It seems all my actions and decisions disturb Mother.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Let’s begin by having you come up from the cellar.”
She scowled but snatched up her books. She hadn’t planned to quit yet, but perhaps she could give her mother some sense of victory.