The Golden Sparrow

by Samantha Latshaw

  His voice was rich as velvet and when he glanced at me, briefly appraising me as if daring me to speak against him, I felt a shiver run down my spine. I didn’t like the cold look in his eyes. And I recognized him from the last time, though I was certain he had been with another woman.

  I saw a look pass between them, Mimi asking him something without speaking and he nodded slightly. Mimi lifted her head slightly then looked to me. her dark eyes were sparkling with delight and I knew I didn’t have it in me to stop her from having fun. Even if it wasn’t with me.

  I waved her off, desperate to get the man away from me though not entirely willing to let her go with him. I would just have to keep an eye on them. “Oh, go on then,” I said.

  Mimi promptly took the man’s hand and the two immediately slipped between dancing couples, causing me to lose sight of them completely.

  Annoyed, I decided to get another drink, if only to scan the crowds for them. But when I got to my feet, I swayed, my head swimming, and I had to grip the back of my chair to keep myself upright until the spinning stopped.

  When the world leveled out again, I took an unsteady step forward… and then another and another, until I was at the bar.

  “What’s your poison, darlin’?” the man behind the counter asked as he dried a glass with a slightly stained rag.

  “A sidecar.” I was aware of how slurred my speech was and prayed he wouldn’t prevent me from getting another one.

  He eyed me closely and I knew he wasn’t fooled. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I shook my head, an action I instantly regretted when the spinning returned, and said, “No, but I want one.”

  The man seemed to consider me for a moment longer before shrugging and setting aside the dried glass and cloth to make me a sidecar.

  Turning back around, I scanned the crowds for Mimi and saw only a few people I recognized, none of which were Mimi or that man.

  Mrs. Welling, who often joined my mother for lunch and gossip, was sitting at a table across from the bar with several of her friends. Congressman Chanler was with a young lady who was most certainly not his wife nearby and I saw Mr. Long, who had been at school with my father, ogling a pass group of young women.

  When my eyes slid onto John Townsend, I started then stared, unable to believe that I was seeing him. I prayed he wouldn’t notice me, either. I couldn’t handle the idea of him spotting me in a speakeasy or be able to live with the knowledge that he knew I came to them. I knew that, somehow, it get back to Mama and it would all be because of him.

  “Here you are.”

  Twisting back around, I picked up the freshly made cocktail and simultaneously dropped the money on the counter, which the man snatched up immediately.

  I was almost back to the table when I was waylaid by John Townsend, who seemed surprised yet amused to see me standing with a cocktail in my hand.

  “I didn’t think this was your idea of fun,” he remarked, eyebrows raised in query. “Don’t you have a recital or something you’ve got to practice for?”

  “It’s a concert,” I corrected automatically then cleared my throat, anxious as I scanned the crowds in hopes of spotting Mimi returning. “And you don’t know me in the least, Mr. Townsend. Just because we’re thrown together at the dinner parties and balls doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

  John Townsend laughed loudly. “Goodness me, I seem to have offended you.” He made a mock bow and I huffed in annoyance. “Begging your pardon, but I didn’t think it was illegal to ask questions.”

  “And you may ask questions,” I replied lightly as I set my drink down, “but I most likely will not answer them. Now if you please, I’d like to enjoy this in peace.”

  He laughed again but left me alone just as Mimi appeared at the edge of the crowd, the man steadfast at her side.

  I eyed them closely and thought I saw her leaning away from him. but then I blinked and was surprised to see her grab his hand briefly before releasing it.

  “I didn’t want to keep you too long,” the man was saying as they approached. Mimi’s cheeks were flushed with pleasure and her eyes were bright enough to illuminate the whole club.

  He raised her hand to his lips, causing her cheeks to burn red, then released her and slipped away.

  Mimi dropped into her seat and fanned herself, looking thoroughly pleased.

  “Golly, what a night,” she exclaimed, still fanning herself as I sipped slowly on my drink.

  “Who was that?” I asked her, setting my drink down. I was beginning to feel lightheaded again and that I was losing control of my senses. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. “He certainly seemed to like you an awful lot.”

  Mimi flashed a grin and I felt a sharp bite of jealousy when I thought of the two of them sitting in a dark corner, wrapped around one another.

  “Just a fellow I met a couple of weeks ago,” she answered vaguely. “He’s terrible nice and such a wonderful dance. I would introduce you, but”—she shrugged, looking strangely distant—“I would prefer to keep him to myself for now.”

  My eyebrows rose at how protective she was over the man she seemed to be, but instead of saying anything, I instead lifted the glass back to my lips and sipped again.

  Mimi’s smile slid slightly when she caught of my expression and asked, “What?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I lied.

  “Hazel,” she said, her tone warning. “What is it?”

  Instead of answering, I got to my feet, swaying a little before I said, “I think I’m going home. I’ve had far too much to drink.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said, getting to her feet as well.

  I was curiously angry at her proposition and, before I could check my tongue, heard myself say, “Oh no. I wouldn’t want to spoil the evening for you. You’re having far too much fun and I wouldn’t want to interfere.”

  My tone was cold and I could hear the bitterness clear as day. I suspected the alcohol had a hand in the matter, but I didn’t feel sorry for it even when I saw the hurt cross her face.

  “Hazel, what—?”

  I turned away from her, feeling real fury threaten to consume me as I pushed roughly through the crowds towards the door.

  Why would Mimi bother to bring me to the club if she was going to ignore me and spend the entire evening with someone else? What was the point? Surely I was good enough company.

  I heard her calling after me, but I ignored. She clearly hadn’t been spending her nights alone in the speakeasy as she had previously claimed she was.

  John Townsend stood near the door and, as I approached, his eyes met mine as the man at the door helped me into my coat. I didn’t spare him a second glance. If he ended telling my mother that I was here, then he would tell her. And so what if he did? I was nearly eighteen. I was old enough to make my own choices and do whatever I pleased. No one could stop me.

  To my surprise, however, he offered me a genuine smile before I was stepping out into the cold night, glad of the chill that was helping my alcohol-soaked brain focus on the sidewalk before me.

  When I was finally back home, rather going to bed immediately, I stood by the rattling radiator under my window and let the warmth creep back into me before finally turning off the lights and crawling under the covers.

  The spinning, to my dismay, did not stop even after I laid down and closed my eyes. And when I awoke the next morning, it was to the sensation that someone had taken a hammer and was pounding it hard into my head.

  Danielle burst into my room not a moment later and promptly crossed the room and threw open my curtains, blinding me.

  “Shut them!” I cried out, wrenching the blankets over my face to block out the sunlight.

  When I heard them close, I slowly pulled the covers back down to find Danielle staring down at me, looking utterly perplexed.

  “What oan earth is the matter?” she wondered.

  My stomach was roiling and a cold sweat had erupted over my skin.

&
nbsp; “I think I’m going to be sick,” I mumbled and Danielle was immediately in action a second later, disappearing briefly and returning within seconds with an old wash basin in hand, which she promptly shoved under me just in time.

  When my stomach was emptied and my retching had finally stopped, I slumped back into my pillows while Danielle pressed her hand to my clammy forehead.

  “Aye, yer unwell,” she said, though I was certain alcohol was leaking out of my pores and making the air rank with it. “I dinna think it’d be a guid idea for ye tae get up, ye ken. Best stay in bed today.”

  I groaned in response and rolled over, which only made my stomach clench painfully at the sudden movement.

  “I’ll bring ye some toast tae help clam yer stomach,” she went on though I wasn’t really listening. “The basin’s on the floor in case ye need it again.”

  I groaned again, this time in acknowledgement of her words, and she left me alone for a few minutes.

  My stomach had calmed down somewhat by the time she came back, toast and water in hand.

  Nibbling cautiously on the toast, I said, “Is Mrs. MacClare here?”

  Danielle shook her head and picked up the basin. She scrunched her nose slightly but looked otherwise unperturbed by its contents.

  “She left about twenty minutes ago,” Danielle told me. “She’d been worried about ye, as it’s so late in the morning. But now that I ken yer ill, I know why.” She eyed me slyly. “And gettin’ home late probably dinna help, did it, Miss MacClare?”

  I made a face and pushed the toast away. My stomach couldn’t take it and I was worried I would wretch again.

  Danielle must have had the same fears because she immediately shoved the basin back under me, but after dry heaving for what felt like hours, I sagged back into my pillows, drenched with sweat and trembling as I took the back of my hand and dragged it across my mouth.

  “I did get back late,” I gasped out, wiping uselessly at my brow. “And I regret every bit of it.”

  Danielle settled down on the end of my bed, looking both concerned and curious.

  “I dinna suppose ye’ll humor an old bat like me and tell me why ye were out until one in the morning?”

  My eyes widened. One?

  I hadn’t bothered to look at the clock by the stairs on my way back in. I was far too concerned with getting into bed and going to sleep to pay much attention to anything else.

  “Mimi and I lost track of time.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. I would have preferred to tell Danielle the truth, but that was impossible. There was no telling what my mother would say if she found out I had gone to speakeasies. Telling her was a risk I wasn’t willing to make. Anything at all that could jeopardize my chances with Carnegie Hall would have to be kept to myself. But then John Townsend smirking at me the night before flashed before my eyes and I swallowed anxiously. What if he told?

  Though she looked as though she didn’t believe me, Danielle got to her feet and told me to rest before leaving me in peace.

  I listened to her fading footsteps before rolling over onto my side to stare at the tiny sliver of sunlight streaming into my room through a gap in my curtains.

  Tomorrow, I would renew my efforts with the cursed Hammerklavier, I told myself. Even though I was beginning to question my sanity at having chosen such a difficult song, I knew I had to master it. I didn’t want anyone to think I had gotten that concert simply by being in New York City’s society columns. Even if took me until the day before the concert to learn it, I would do it.

  I had finally managed to get at least a halfway through the second movement before my hands gave way to my ineptitude and fumbled across the keys.

  For the hundredth time that day, I slammed my elbows down onto the ivory keys, causing a cacophony of noise to erupt from the offended piano, and put my face into my hands as I let out a cry of frustration.

  “Perhaps you need a break,” Mama suggested, lifting her head from the book she had been reading for the last half hour. “It’s a beautiful day outside. Why don’t we take a walk and enjoy it?”

  “Fine.” Glowering, I pushed myself to my feet and stomped out to the foyer where I pulled my coat off the stand and tugged it on.

  Mama joined me just as I stuffed my hat onto my head and began pulling on my gloves.

  Her eyebrows were raised in surprise but she said nothing, shrugging it off as she got into her coat.

  As she put on her straw hat, I was struck with just how very I was to her. we had been told often when I was younger that we looked very similar to one another, but now that I was older my the roundness from childhood was slowly disappearing from my face, I could really see it.

  Our hair was the same dark shade, though hers curled where mine was straight. Our brown eyes were the same shape and framed thickly. Our facial structures were even almost identical, though Mama’s cheekbones were higher than mine, giving my face a rounder appearance. And she was shorter than I was, though not by much. I certainly didn’t tower over her as I remembered Papa had.

  As we stepped out onto the street, Mama said, “I saw Florence yesterday at a coffee shop. She told me you two had a disagreement the last time you two spoke.”

  “It wasn’t a disagreement,” I said, kicking angrily at a rock and sending it ricocheting off the steps of a neighbor’s stairs. “She’s getting married.”

  “And do you not like him?” Mama probed.

  I shook my head and sighed, annoyed now. I had hoped for a nice, peaceful walk to give me a break from the piano. Apparently it had all been a ploy.

  “That isn’t the case at all,” I assured her, stuffing my hands deep in my coat pocket and staring straight ahead at the crowded street beyond. The sun was warm over us, but a chilly breeze made me wish for warmer summer days. “She thinks I am being too careless with my life. She thinks that I shouldn’t rely on music to support me and that I should find myself a husband at the next social gathering so I don’t wind up living as an old maid. She sounded like you,” I added crossly and Mama had the sense not to laugh.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t think that,” Mama said in an effort to reassure me. She even made to put her hand on my arm to comfort me, but I stepped out of her reach.

  Ignoring the look of hurt that crossed her features, I said, “She did. She tried to say that she just wanted me to be happy, but I can’t see that being the case, since she so obviously disapproves of Carnegie Hall.”

  Now Mama sighed in annoyance.

  “The Florence I know would never say such things,” she said and I just barely managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes at her words.

  People change, I wanted to say. Every day, people changed. No one was the same person they were when they woke up that morning. Of course Florence would change her opinions about a great deal of things in the weeks since Mama had last seen her.

  But instead, I held my tongue and listened.

  “I don’t want you to think that I want you to give up on this music venture of yours,” Mama said, “but I do want you to think of a more… stable future outside of playing at concerts, something that music cannot give you.”

  “Were you certain of having a stable future with Papa?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “I did,” she replied.

  “And did you think we would go to war only ten years later?” The color leeched from Mama’s face and so I quickly went on. “I’m not saying this to upset you, but even you have to admit that life is never certain. I could marry John Townsend next week and he could die in a car crash next year. Why not let me do what I love while I still can? I’m not hurting anyone.”

  I tried to smile at her, but Mama wasn’t having it.

  “I know the world is changing,” she said quietly as we wove our way through slow walkers. “I know that it isn’t the most important thing anymore, but I still think that marrying will give a security you otherwise wouldn’t have.”

  “Well, you got used to cars and telephones, didn’t you?” I a
sked, smirking a little. “I’m sure you can get used to me playing in concert halls.”

  “Perhaps,” Mama mused then her expression turned serious. “But if I ever see you come home with that ridiculous hairstyle I see so many girls sporting, I may have to reconsider keeping you as my daughter.”

  “Mama!” I cried, laughing though I felt anxiety tearing through me. “The hairstyles aren’t that bad. And it grows back. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in world.”

  Mama sighed. “No,” she said, “I suppose not. But I still wouldn’t be happy with you.”

  “It’s just hair,” I said again, still grinning.

  “You’ve been with Mimi too long,” she said and my smile slipped away. “Next thing, I’ll read your name in the papers that you’ve been arrested at some speakeasy that got raided.”

  Now my heart sputtered as fear overtook anxiety. She couldn’t know. John Townsend would be giving himself away by saying he saw me at that club. But that didn’t stop me from fearing the worst.

  “That’ll never happen,” I assured her though my mouth felt dry at my lie. If I was ever caught, if that owner didn’t have as good relations in the police force as Mimi claimed he did, then I would most likely be out on the streets in a trice. “I think I would sooner marry John than go to a speakeasy.”

  “Oh.” Mama stopped in her tracks and I pulled her off to the side amidst angry remarks from passersby. “That reminds me. We’ve got another dinner with the Townsend’s tonight. Others are invited, but they’ll be there.”

  “Oh no.” I held my hands up, shaking my head. “No. I told you to never invite them over again, Mama. I meant that!”

  “Susan heard me telling Rose Capland the other day,” Mama said, looking flustered. “I had no choice, Hazel. She would’ve been offended if I hadn’t invited her and her family as well.”

  “Do you know what? I actually have plans with Mimi tonight. Have fun.”

  And with that, I whirled away, down towards East Seventy-Fifth Street and to Mimi’s house where she, her mother and sister had moved after their father died and their old house had become too expensive for them. It had surprised me to find that Mr. Waters’ had left them practically nothing upon his death, but I also didn’t know the particulars of their finances. Perhaps my suspicions of Mr. Waters’ leaving them in financial ruin But when I arrived and knocked on the door, I received no answer.