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Lucky's Way

By Gina Hooten Popp

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ANTONIA

The year was 1918. War hung heavy in the air.


Its oppressive force haunted me daily because I lived near the hub of the military—where the country was run—where life and death decisions were made every hour of every day of every month.


I lived in Washington, D.C. A place lonely soldiers drifted through as they maneuvered back and forth from their hometowns to the battlefield. Sometimes their serious faces and starched uniforms gave me a sense of security. Other times I was frightened by their heavy presence. Mostly, they reminded me of my William—his strong jawline and serious dark eyes. How handsome he was in uniform.


But I shook off my sadness. I had a mission and there was no time to grieve. 


The women of D.C. were staging a small war of our own. Right here at home. I’d need to walk faster if I was to be on the front lines. 


“Antonia,” a voice called from behind me. “Wait.”


It was Elaine. She had decided to come after all. 


Slowing my pace, I turned and motioned to her. “Hurry, I want to be front and center.”


She made an effort to move faster, but her fashionable skirts hindered her every step. As always, my dear friend Elaine felt it was more important to be stylish than comfortable. A good portion of her trust fund went to purchasing clothes every month.


Gasping, she said, “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”


“No,” I said, knowing she’d never catch up in those shoes. Besides, the closer we came to headquarters, the more I realized we were never going to be front and center. Stopping, I waited patiently for Elaine. 


“Sorry, I know what this march means to you,” Elaine whispered as she gave my stomach a little pat. “I can’t believe you’re so far along and only just now starting to show. You look great in that new dress.”


“Elaine, how can you think a mourning dress looks great?”


“Black becomes you, Antonia. The fit’s fabulous. You don’t look like you’re with child. How lucky you are to be so tall and thin. Even six months pregnant, you’ve hardly changed a bit.”


She was right. Though I was not large, I did walk somewhat differently because of the pregnancy. I was off balance and incredibly lightheaded at times. Just the other day I had two nosebleeds. Of course, as a trained military nurse, I had not dealt with pregnancy or childbirth and I had been very concerned. Thankfully, my neighbor lady, who reminded me of my own mother back in Italy, told me these problems were common.


I wanted to be back in Italy with my mother. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to marry a U.S. soldier?


Again, I shoved my thoughts aside as we took our places for the march.


“Here, let’s stand on the edge of the lineup so I can get out quickly if I need to…”


Casting a worried glance at my stomach, Elaine said, “Are you sure the little one’s up for the long walk? Let’s just watch from the sidelines.”


“No, I need to march. I have to be a part of the fight.”


“Very well. We’ll stay on the edge.”


The band stopped tuning their instruments and a woman at the front cupped her hands and yelled into the air. “Ladies unite!” Pausing for effect, she continued. “Follow me into a new age.”


The band began to play “March of the Suffragettes” signaling the start of the parade. My heart swelled as we began to move forward. How proud I felt to be part of this group fighting for women’s rights. 


When Elaine took my hand, I felt hers tremble. “Are you afraid?” she asked.


“Yes, I heard there might be violence,” I said loudly, trying to speak above the tuba’s pulsing beats.


Elaine put her hand to her ear. “What?”


“Violence.” I yelled. “It might get violent.”


Then, the first tomato hit me. In horror, I watched a streak of red tumble down the front of my new dress. I didn’t have money to buy another. In truth, I’d hardly had the money to buy that one. 


As the fighting broke out around us, I lost track of Elaine.


A horse reared up on its hind legs. I jumped out of the way just in time, almost tripping over a policeman who’d fallen to the ground, dazed, but very much alive. Quickly, I bent down and picked up the billy club he’d dropped and swung it this way and that above my head. The mob before me miraculously parted, making me think of Moses and the Red Sea. In the melee, I did what I could to ensure the heavy wooden club did not make contact with anyone.


Soon, I found myself in an open area near a train platform. 


An officer positioned across the street shouted, “Give me that billy club!” before he started to give chase.


Without a moment’s hesitation, I boarded one of the train cars, hoping to blend with the other passengers. However, once inside, I discovered only one man—a boy really—wearing a uniform. His handsome face looked up nonchalantly at my approach. The gaze of his steel-blue eyes stunned me. 


Feeling the policeman gaining on me, I dove under the wooden bench where the soldier was seated. To my surprise, he didn’t hesitate to hide me from the officer by spreading his military coat over the bench. 


The train floor was hard and uncomfortable and I felt the pulse of the engine through it. A burst of acrid smoke filled my lungs. Holding my hand to my mouth, I tried not to cough. 


Shifting on the bench above me, the soldier-boy pushed his travel satchel slightly to the left, which obscured my face from the policeman’s view. Soft, well-worn leather touched my cheek, its scent made me heady. I smiled to myself. Once again I had found a hiding place in a room where there was no place to hide.

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