Free Marry Me by Heidi Wessman Kneale

heart.
    “Scream,” the heart declared.
    She gave him a wry look but he was pencilling another message on another heart.
    “Scream!” the second heart declared.
    “I…don’t know.”
    He jabbed his pencil hard at the third heart. When he held it up between his fingers, it shouted out as loud as its candy-ness could, so dark were its pencil lines. “SCREAM!”
    By gum, why not?
    Millie drew in a deep breath and let out an ear-piercing scream, long and loud and full of frustration.
    At first Raymond jumped, so mighty was her scream. He didn’t stop her. All he did was listen.
    When her breath ran out and her heart pumped hard, only then did she stop. The fire in her belly reignited.
    Oh that felt good!
    “I say,” called out an alarmed voice.
    Millie and Raymond turned to see another couple dashing toward them.
    “Are you all right?” the man asked. His lady friend clung to his arm, her hat somewhat askew.
    Millie huffed a deeper breath. “I,” she hesitated until she saw Raymond’s warm green eyes as he popped a candy heart into his mouth. “I’m fine.” She stood her ground. “Justice demands an end to poverty.” If she had their attention, she would tell them what she wanted them to hear. “The poor need our help.”
    The couple hesitated. The woman still looked worried. “If you’re all right…”
    Millie felt Raymond’s reassuring squeeze on her arm. “I am. I need to be heard.” She smiled at Raymond, who returned the sentiment. “You’re right. I need to do that more often.”
    Millie spread her arms and let her newfound freedom spread through her limbs. “Education for women!” she shouted. “Votes for women!” she added.
    The man stiffened. He dragged his companion away with, “Nothing to see here.”
    As Millie watched them retreat, the lady looked over her shoulder, giving Mille a cautious, shy smile. Someone had listened.
    “D-do you f-f-f-eel better?”
    Millie did. “Will I be heard even if I don’t scream?”
    “I-I’ll l-lis-s-ten.”
    A playful smile teased her lips. “No matter how softly I speak”
    He nodded.
    “May I have a heart and your pencil?”
    He gave them to her. On the back of the heart she pencilled a brief note. A she pressed the heart into Raymond’s hand, she whispered, “That.” Then she held a finger over her lips.
    When he opened his hand and read the message on the heart, he beamed and put a hand over his heart.
    It said, simply, “I love you”.
    ****
    On Saturday night Millie dressed in her finest evening gown, an off-the-shoulder pink satin with a delightfully light overdress of blue mousseline that shifted and shimmered as she moved. An array of silk roses garnished her bosom. Her hair had been pouffed up so big Gibson would be proud.
    The Chandlers had arrived promptly at six o’clock in a most splendid landau carriage with driver. Millie watched in delight as Raymond Wilson, resplendent in a fine tuxedo, knocked on the front door.
    Her mother, disgruntled at Millie’s choice of escort, nevertheless insisted everything be done properly. Millie was not allowed to answer the door, but had to wait for the maid.
    “I wish you had worn Mr. Elliott’s bracelet. I haven’t seen you wear it once,” Mrs. Moore murmured in Millie’s ear.
    Millie whispered, “Nor will I. I have no intention of accepting Mr. Elliott’s suit. To wear his bracelet would be to give him false hope.” She blushed deeply. The proper thing would be to give the bracelet back.
    Oops.
    “If you’d just wait five more minutes…”
    Millie looked to her mother. “Wait? For what?”
    Mrs. Moore fidgeted. “Maybe Mr. Elliott would like to escort you to the gala.”
    She blinked. “Mr. Elliott is not a member of the club.” In fact, Millie doubted very much Mr. Elliott had gone to university. “Why would he go?”
    The maid stepped into the parlor. “Mr. Wilson is come to take Miss Moore.”
    Her mother said nothing and looked away.
    Her heart lifted as Raymond