Secret Sisters

by Joy Callaway

  A sharp wind whipped over us, teetering the red bird wings atop my head. I took a breath of the crisp winter air tinged with wood smoke and sighed.

  “Saying that he enjoys your company doesn’t sound like he’s feeling sorry for you,” I said. In truth, I wouldn’t know how he felt. He’d been friendly but distant since the day of the board meeting, the day we’d embraced in the hall.

  “I know,” she said. “I suppose I was just hoping that I’d find something more . . . not necessarily with Will. I’m not even sure that I fancy him at all beyond friendship.” She shrugged. “At the ball . . . well, I’d never been asked to accompany a man to anything, and so I suppose I was enraptured with the possibility. I’ve made him into something he’s not. His sporadic, reckless manner would drive me insane. Though I could see it working for the two of you.”

  “Please stop saying that,” I said, slinging my arm through hers. “Will and I are friends, and I quite enjoy Grant’s company, though I know he’s not everyone’s favorite.”

  “Everyone or Mary? She’s the only one who disapproves, but even she doesn’t object entirely. I’ve never said I dislike Mr. Richardson. In fact, he’s done some very valiant things on our behalf, and if anyone has the power to influence him to alter his views, it’s you.”

  I knew I was holding him at a bit of a distance for that reason. Even though he was trying to understand my beliefs, I doubted that he’d ever accept them as his own, and I didn’t know if I could attach myself to a man who didn’t agree with my ambitions—even if he wouldn’t try to stop them.

  “I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to convince him to our side,” I said. “But I’m sure you’ll find someone perfect, my dear.”

  “Or, I’ll simply do without. I already have a family now,” she said, gesturing to Mary and Katherine and lightly knocking into me, “and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She flattened a few wayward black feathers across her stomach. “Do I look like an imbecile or what?”

  I surveyed her bald eagle costume, from the pluming white feathers on her head to the dark tufts along her skirt.

  “No. Quite the opposite. You look lovely.”

  As we passed under the arch, I noticed that Mary and Katherine had disappeared in front of us, likely already dissolved into the madness of the Iota house. “And the eagle quite suits you both. You’re both spirited and horribly infuriating when it comes to your pursuit of personal freedom,” I continued.

  Lily laughed and squeezed my hand.

  “Don’t act as though stubbornness is such a foreign trait, my dear,” she said. “Lean over here. Your wings are lopsided.”

  * * *

  Two things were clear from the moment the door opened: that this wasn’t a faculty-attended party and that the Iota Gammas had spent a pretty penny on a decorator.

  “How are we supposed to find them?” Lily yelled. I could barely hear her over the roar of voices and the blast of horns coming from somewhere close by, though there was no way to tell what the band was actually playing over the noise. The great room was lined with human-sized nests of all shapes and sizes, all of them equipped to hold seats for a brother and his date. Partygoers were jammed into the middle of the room under several silk garlands hanging from the ceiling. Each strand held a massive bouquet of red roses in the center, permeating the air with a sweet fragrance that masked the familiar stench of old tobacco and manly sweat.

  “Let’s start looking,” I said, taking Lily’s hand and pulling her into the mass of pluming hats and feathered dresses, scanning the men for a streak of red. All of the brothers wore full masks with beaks—a potential problem if you weren’t familiar with other distinct qualities of your escort, since there were several varieties of each color.

  “Remove your hands from me this instant!” A woman’s voice cut through the racket as we passed a shallow straw nest with two armchairs perched atop it. I looked toward it in time to see Anne Rilk smack the brown mask from Mr. Stephens’s face. His eyes were glazed, and he was clearly intoxicated. I thought back to Mr. Sanderson at Mr. Everett’s house, the way he’d allowed liquor to compromise his behavior. Mary had done the same. Why did they assume that the rules of etiquette didn’t apply to them? Excess drink only led to foolishness.

  “You’re embarrassing yourself. You’ve had too much punch. I told you that I wouldn’t allow you to touch me that way until we’re at the very least engaged, and I meant it,” Anne went on, not bothering to lower her voice.

  “Would you like a chocolate—” A waiter in a plain black beak and tails started to ask, before a large man careened into him. He slammed into us, silver tray soaring out of his hands. Lily caught the waiter by the arm. “Thank you,” he muttered. Lifting his beak from his face, he stared at Lily for a moment before he composed himself. “I beg your pardon. Miss Johnston, correct?”

  I nudged Lily.

  “Oh. Yes. That’s me,” she said.

  “You’re in Professor Helms’s grammar class with me. Or, I suppose you were until he disappeared,” the man said, plucking the coated chocolate eggs from the floor and situating them back on the tray as though he still planned to serve them.

  Lily only nodded, doubtless unnerved at the mention of the professor’s sudden departure.

  The desserts mostly revived to their earlier placement, the waiter stilled and leaned toward my friend. “Miss Johnston, I’ve had just enough of the Iota’s famous hummingbird punch to tell you that I find you breathtaking . . . both in beauty and resilience. It cannot be easy enduring the jeering of fifty-three men.”

  “I remember you,” she said. “The day that they told me I couldn’t take the test . . . that I’d missed it when I was ill. You told me that they were only joking and that I hadn’t missed a thing.”

  He smiled, two dimples appearing at the sides of his mouth.

  “David Langley,” he said, extending his hand.

  At that moment, I glimpsed a streak of red out of the corner of my eye and grabbed the red-jacketed arm.

  “Grant!” I shouted.

  The owner of the red jacket swiveled toward me.

  “I wish I was,” an unfamiliar voice called back. “I’d love to have a girl like you on my arm.” Two beady orbs peered down my low round neckline from the eyeholes in his mask, and I clasped my hands across my chest. “He’s back there,” the man said, flinging a limp hand behind himself. “In the most extravagant nest, of course, right next to the fireplace. You can’t miss him.”

  I glanced around, found Lily still speaking to Mr. Langley, and pushed my way through the crowd.

  I passed the band, which had been set up behind the open pocket doors in the sitting room. The brass instruments blared four short notes, followed in quick succession by the deep tones of a cello. A short middle-aged man with a silver beak and an extraordinary moustache bellowed the first words to “Golden Slippers.”

  “Oh, my golden slippers am laid away, ’cause I don’t ’spect to wear them ’til my wedding day,” he sang, as lively as if he were in a tavern. I suppose it was close enough.

  “And my long tailed coat, that I love so well, I will wear up in the chariot in the morn.” I hummed along until the singer’s voice faded, absorbed by the shouts and laughter coming from the rest of the room. I snaked around a small nest made to look like it was being held up by a green stem, and stopped in my tracks.

  The man was right. I couldn’t miss Grant’s nest. He’d had the deep straw structure painted gold, and the flames from the adjacent fireplace reflected along the bottom of it and danced upward, like a beacon to the high rim where Grant was leaning. He grinned when he saw me and lifted the vibrant red beak from his face. He spread his arms out, no doubt asking what I thought of the nest, and then his gaze trailed down my dress. I could feel my body tense. He was extraordinarily handsome. This wasn’t a new revelation to me, but tonight the candlelight made him look as though he’d been painted, the red feathers sewn to his suit brought out the tan olive of his skin, an
d the glittering gleam from the nest below his hands flashed light into his dark eyes.

  “Oyster, miss?” A waiter tapped me on the shoulder, shaking my focus from Grant’s gaze.

  “Oh . . . um . . . no thank you,” I said, thoroughly discombobulated.

  “You’re here . . . finally,” Grant said, stepping into an opening where a small stool waited. I eyed the wooden legs at the base of the nest, wondering if it was sturdy enough to hold both of us. “Come on.” Grant’s voice was soft, but I somehow heard him over a chant being yelled.

  “Brothers eternal, kings of the world! Proud and valiant, honorable and free. Iota Gamma forever to thee!”

  “This is incredible. I’m so glad to be here,” I said.

  “Join me,” Grant said. “Take my hand. I’ve been waiting all night to look at you.” My fingers found his and his arm constricted, practically pulling me up the step and into his chest. I breathed him in, smelling the coconut and palm in his hair over the bouquets of roses and the heady stench of someone smoking a cigar nearby. “Your wings are as sharp as daggers,” Grant said, laughing. He pulled away a few inches to rub at a small abrasion beneath his chin left by my wings.

  “If we’re to walk home in the dark, at least I’ll have a weapon to guard us,” I said with a smile.

  Before I could stop him, his hands lifted to my hair and he unpinned the wings, tossing them across the nest, onto a far corner of the red velvet lining.

  “Those were—” I started to say expensive, but stopped myself. I’d ordered the headpiece from a store in Chicago last week for five dollars—more than I’d spent on the entire dress.

  “I’m sorry. If I’ve ruined it, I’ll buy you another,” he said. His thumb swept my cheek and then he pulled away abruptly. “Sir!” he shouted, flagging down a waiter balancing a tray of champagne flutes. The waiter hurried over, and while Grant retrieved two glasses, I looked around the room for my sisters. Instead, my eyes landed on Will’s across the room. He turned away quickly, but before he did, I saw his expression–brows pinched together, eyes narrowed. Why had he been glaring at me?

  “Thank you,” I said as Grant handed me the glass.

  “Hummingbird punch,” he said. “Champagne and strawberry juice.”

  I hesitated, wondering if I should refuse the drink, but I was thirsty, and I was only going to have one. He took my hand again and as we sat down, he pulled me to his side. At once, we were alone, shielded from sight by the nest’s high sides. The roar of the room subsided in the cocoon of twigs, straw, and velvet. He took a sip from his glass and set it down to take my other hand.

  I suddenly remembered the words he’d written on my valentine and my chest constricted. Despite my attraction, my admiration, I didn’t know if I loved him back. I was wholly confused and flustered. I wanted to be certain about my feelings, but I wasn’t, and the last thing I wanted to do was lead him on.

  “Beth, I—”

  “Did Rumpelstiltskin build this nest?” I interjected quickly, referring to the gold-painted straw, hoping to stop him from any sort of declaration. If I knew there was a chance that his opinions couldn’t be changed, what was I doing with him? I suppose I was having fun, giving in to my feelings. But perhaps I wasn’t being fair to either of us if our end could only be heartbreak.

  “No. It’s a little-known fact, but cardinals are the original spinners of gold.” Grant winked at me and his thumb grazed over my knuckles. I pushed my reservations to the back of my mind. I could face them later when he wasn’t touching me, making my heart beat fast. “I know this isn’t you,” he said, gesturing at the extravagance around us, “and I knew before I did it that you were going to poke fun at me for it, but I wanted you to have the loveliest nest of all.” He looked down at our hands, and I watched him flush. He was going to say it, to tell me he loved me.

  Before I could think of another way to stall, he leaned over and kissed me. His mouth moved slowly on mine, the sweet taste of strawberry on our tongues. I gripped his lapel and pulled him closer, immediately surprised at the way I’d responded, feeling the light pricks of the feather tips along his jacket in sharp contrast to his soft kiss. The thought that someone could come up the steps and find us flitted through my mind, but as his touch blazed through me, I prayed they wouldn’t.

  “It’s time!” A trumpet rang out and Grant leaned away from our embrace.

  “Damn,” he said. “Beth, I-I’m sorry.” He grinned, licked his fingertips, and ran a hand through his hair before leaning down to kiss me again. “It’s the pledge announcement.”

  “I’m pleased to introduce our fearless leader, President Grant Richardson.” Grant clutched the rim of the nest and hoisted himself up, waving to the room. I pinned an unruly strand of hair back to the top of my head, wondering what had come over me. I thought of the way I’d judged Katherine for her passionate kissing with Will. I shouldn’t have. I’d never known how difficult it would be to push a man away while your heart was pounding and everything inside wanted him to keep kissing you. Grant leaned down, plucked my hand from my side, and squeezed it.

  “This will only take a few moments.” He disappeared down the steps and I stood on my tiptoes to look over the edge of the nest, watching his broad frame edge though the crowd to where the band stood on a short stage in the drawing room. The singer extended his hand and Grant took it, materializing over the rest of the partygoers. The room slowly quieted.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he yelled. Someone whooped somewhere, a noise that sounded half-owl, half-lion, prompting a spattering of the same sound from at least a dozen others. Grant lifted his hands to his mouth and answered, calling out the same way.

  “I call to order an open meeting of Iota Gamma,” he shouted, after the clapping and whooping died down. He pinched a red feather that had come loose from his jacket and tossed it to the ground before turning his attention back to the room. “As most of you know, it’s an Iota tradition to introduce our new pledges in a public forum. That way, if anyone—a brother or otherwise—observes them acting in a manner uncharacteristic of the Iota way, he or she can report the prospective brother to me.”

  Grant leaned back and said something to the singer behind him. He smiled at the crowd, and I wished he’d get on with it and come back to me. I felt the burn of eyes on my face. Will was standing by himself, staring at me. He shifted his mask to the top of his forehead, and I started to wave, but his gaze shifted back to Grant and he spun his thumb around the rim of his empty champagne flute. Where was Lily? I looked over the crowd in front of me and spotted her in the exact place I’d left her, still talking to Mr. Langley. I hadn’t seen Mary or Katherine since we’d arrived and hoped they weren’t getting into trouble, though I doubted it.

  “The ten men I’m about to announce have been noticed for their gentlemanly manner, their intelligence, and their natural charisma—the three common characteristics found in every leader of this great nation and every brother in this fraternity. When I call your name, please join me in the front.” Grant withdrew a sheet of paper from his pocket and announced, “Mr. James Sanderson.”

  There was a small ado from the other side of the room and an orange beak appeared, followed immediately by another. Mr. Sanderson straightened his beak and yanked his black feather-lined tuxedo jacket down as he snaked through the crowd. “Mr. Sanderson is a freshman, a legal studies major hailing from Kentucky. We’ve decided to overlook the fact that he’s a rebel by blood, so long as he promises that he’s for the right side should a fight break out again.”

  “Hear, hear!” someone yelled. Mr. Sanderson’s lips pursed and his eyes began to roll as he accepted Grant’s hand up to the stage, before he remembered that he had to appear amiable.

  “As you can see, I assigned Mr. Sanderson the blackbird, a symbol of a higher way of living—of enlightened ideas and thoughts. He was nominated by my grand-little brother, Mr. Samuel Stephens, because of his quick wit and intellect in the classroom, though there’s more to M
r. Sanderson than intelligence. He carries himself with a sense of mystery, as though what’s seen is not nearly all that there is to this man. I look forward to finding out what that is.” Grant thumped Katherine’s brother a little too hard on the back. Through his smile, I could tell that something had made him suspicious. Mr. Sanderson nodded at Grant, but as he pivoted toward the crowd, his eyes fixed on a spot between Will’s nest and mine. I turned to follow his gaze, finding Katherine standing alone, her face pale. Mr. Sanderson didn’t like the insinuation that Grant would be studying him closely, and Katherine didn’t either.

  The introduction of the pledges lasted for nearly an hour, much longer than Grant had promised, and by the end, my feet were pinched in my boots from standing on the uneven nest for that long. After going through the same process with each of the Iota Gamma men, Grant walked down the line of pledges, whispering something to each of them. The strings began to play a lovely meandering introduction and then, in one collective breath, the brothers started to sing.

  “Fierce and brave, mighty and strong, we’ll lead like lions into the throng.” A hush fell over the festivities, the united baritone voices filled the room. “Tender and loyal, honest and right, we’ll carry the silver rose into the light. A Fortiori, from the stronger we’ve come, to pass the Iota Gamma sword to our sons.” The final note rang out over the silence, and then a brother whooped once again.

  “I am pleased to announce the ’Eighty-one Iota Gamma pledge class,” Grant yelled. The pledges shook each other’s hands and walked off of the stage. The crowd began to roar once more, but a shrill whistle silenced it.

  “There’s one more thing I’d like to do,” he said with a glance at me. “You see, when a cardinal decides that he’s found his mate, he feeds her. I’ve already done that tonight, thanks to the spectacular catering, but that’s not my point.”

  His eyes didn’t break from mine. I couldn’t look away, but my head began to spin. What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t going to propose right here, in front of everyone. Someone clapped nearby, but the sound was muted in my ears. My face felt hot and I lifted my hand to my flushed cheeks.