Secret Sisters

by Joy Callaway

  “Nothing. I’m sure it was a ghost,” I said, sobering up.

  “I knew I heard the door open last night,” Lily said, peeling her worn leather gloves from her hands without shifting her gaze from my face.

  “Yes, where’d you go, Beth?” Mary asked.

  “Never mind. You wouldn’t dare,” Lily said.

  “Actually, I think she might.” Mary’s lips turned up and she plucked Lily’s cloak from the desktop and handed it to her. “I was in the library studying for my classical history exam until a little after one this morning—Miss Zephaniah gave me permission. On my way out, I glanced out the window and could have sworn I saw Beth crossing the quad, but figured I was mistaken.”

  “Beth?” Lily’s voice echoed against the stone. I could see her looking at me in my peripheral vision, her fingers working the pin into the fabric of the cloak.

  “I went to see Mr. Richardson,” I said. I tipped my head down in embarrassment, letting the hood fall over my eyes.

  “What?” Lily and Mary said in unison.

  “How did you know it was me anyway, Mary?”

  “Your gait. You sort of bob when you walk.” Her eyes tapered, as though I should have known the answer. I had no idea I did any such thing.

  “Oh. Well. I suppose I should explain.” I sank back against the velvet couch, feeling the cool patches where the fibers had been worn bare. “You might as well sit down.” I pushed my hood back to my forehead and gestured to Lily. She was still staring, as though if she looked hard enough, the answer would come to her without me telling it. Mary stood up abruptly and pulled me into an embrace.

  “I hope you’re not in love with him,” she said. “But, if you are, I’ll stand by you. I’m your sister, first and foremost.”

  “Thank you, but he’s the last person I’d entertain. You know that.” She shrugged, and resumed her place at the desk. Mr. Richardson’s merits and follies had been brought up several times since we’d formed Beta Xi Beta. He could hardly be avoided when discussing fraternities, after all. We’d settled upon the stance that we would tolerate sharing the same space as the man, even though both his father and uncle were staunchly against women’s rights. I should have taken my sisters’ views to heart before I’d gone.

  “I went to ask him a favor,” I said. “For us,” I amended. “It was a mistake.” I rubbed my palm against my arms, feeling the chill of the basement blocks seeping into my bones. “The other day, I crossed campus behind him. He was with one of the board members—Mr. Simon, I believe—and I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. It was something about the vote. Simon was saying that he thought it would be the downfall of our country, but Mr. Richardson disagreed with him. He said that there would be more votes to win, and that anytime there were more votes, parties could establish a new majority, which was a good thing. Simon came around to agreeing with him.”

  “And you took that to mean that Mr. Richardson was for us?” Lily asked.

  “I suppose in part. But mostly, it made me think that he could help establish us. You know he has the influence over the board necessary to do so.”

  The popping of the burning wick was the only noise, until Lily spoke.

  “You told him about us?” Lily’s voice was low and breathy.

  “So, what did you do?” Mary asked. “Sneak into the Iota house? Of course he has the power, but it’s a given that he wouldn’t help. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my mother it’s that most men are unwilling and—”

  "We swore we’d never tell anyone outside this room,” Lily said, cutting Mary off. “You even forbid Mary to tell her mother.”

  “I already said it was a mistake,” I started, “but if we want to extend a bid to the other girls on campus, if we want to secure a charter and offer a voice and camaraderie to other girls at other schools, we need to move forward somehow. If not, we’ll be stuck meeting in this dungeon forever.”

  “That’s better than being forced to disband before we’ve actually begun,” Lily said, “or expelled for meeting at all. Does he know where we gather, who we are?”

  I shook my head.

  “I didn’t get that far.” I knew she was right. Even if Mr. Richardson didn’t know the identities of the women involved, I’d told him that we’d organized. All it would take was his telling President Wilson and I’d be disciplined, if not dismissed from Whitsitt. And then I’d be forced to return to Chicago, to live in the shadow of my stepbrother, the boy my mother hadn’t been able to provide my father, until I chose factory work, secretarial work, or marriage.

  “You should have asked us first, before you decided to go off and talk to him without our knowing,” Mary said. “That being said, was he as handsome in his nightclothes as he is in his suits?”

  “What?”

  “When you snuck up on him? Or, did he know you were coming?”

  “No, he wasn’t expecting me,” I said, trying to hide my flushing. “And all I asked was that he help me petition the board to start a women’s fraternity. I told him that there were already a few of us meeting, but I didn’t mention any names or the location, of course.”

  “And he said what exactly? That he found the idea preposterous? We already knew that’s what he would say.” Lily stood and paced across the room. “Now we have to worry about whether or not he’ll report us.”

  “I asked because I thought he could help us,” I reiterated. “He has power, and his grandfather started Iota Gamma. When I heard that conversation, I thought he’d changed.”

  “People like that never do,” Mary said. “Their ideology is so etched into their being that they can’t escape it. It’s as much a part of them as their heart.” I thought perhaps she was thinking of her mother’s beaus. The first day of classes, I’d noticed Mary wearing a black sapphire ring and she’d told me her mother had given it to her. It was one of the countless gifts from Judith’s would-be suitors, gifts they’d hoped would change her sensibilities. But nothing ever could. Mary’s father was the only man Judith had ever truly loved, a man who’d supported her mission.

  “I suppose,” I said. “He wasn’t overly cruel though. He just said he didn’t see the—”

  A fist slammed into the door, paused, then knocked again, followed by four short knocks and the roll of knuckles. I looked around the room. We were all here. Lily’s eyes widened, and she tugged her hood over her face. I had no doubt she and Mary jumped to the conclusion that I’d actually shared all of our secrets with Mr. Richardson—the location of our meeting room, our knock. All of us remained silent, barely breathing in case whoever was behind that door would sense our presence.

  “Who knocks on the door of Beta Xi Beta?” I started at Mary’s voice, wishing she would’ve remained silent. Whoever it was had likely been following one of us, and I doubted he or she was simply coming to say hello. I cursed under my breath. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have approached Mr. Richardson.

  “Katherine,” a voice drawled from behind the wood. “Katherine Sanderson.” I glanced at Mary, wondering if she’d let our secret slip to her roommate. She looked down and cleared her throat.

  “It was me,” she whispered. “She asked where I went every evening before turn in, and in the moment I couldn’t think of an explanation. I didn’t really think she’d come. I suppose since she’s not a divinity girl we would’ve eventually gotten around to offering her a bid anyway. Regardless, I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’ve got a secret on her as well.”

  I rolled my eyes, recalling Miss Sanderson’s proud face as Professor Fredericks touted her as the ideal woman. She was ill-mannered and shallow, not even close to admirable.

  “Am I the only one to be trusted with our secret? I thought this fraternity was sacred,” Lily hissed.

  “I don’t think she’s right for us,” I whispered, disregarding Lily’s comment.

  Mary snorted.

  “Clearly, but is it because of Will Buchannan or something else?” Her eyes drilled into mine.<
br />
  “You may enter,” I said through my teeth. As much as Miss Sanderson’s impropriety bothered me, Mary was right. Her casual involvement with Will irked me even more. The door screeched open, and she took a cautious step inside, finding me first.

  “Miss Carrington?” she breathed as though my presence were a shock. Had Mary told her about us but not mentioned me? I nodded and forced my lips into a tight smile, supposing the cloaks weren’t the effective disguises Mary assumed they’d be. “Earlier . . . I . . . I’m sorry for earlier. I had no idea why Professor Fredericks asked me that question. I shouldn’t have let him treat you that way. He’s so irritating. He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.”

  I didn’t respond, and silence eclipsed the room, leaving Miss Sanderson no other option but to continue. “I suppose I should explain. You see, I’ve found there’s power in playing into who people think I am.”

  I could feel her eyes on me, waiting for some sign of approval to go on, but I didn’t give it. I didn’t want her here, and though I’d gone behind Mary and Lily’s backs to ask Mr. Richardson for help, I hadn’t gone so far as to invite another woman into our sisterhood without consulting them.

  “We haven’t quite set the rules for recruitment,” I said, ignoring her attempt at enlightening me to her actual character. “So you’ll understand if I ask you to leave and promise to keep this location and these members a secret until we can set things in stone.”

  Mary made a noise in the back of her throat and Lily shifted in her chair.

  “I’m sure we can grant an exception this—” Mary started, but Miss Sanderson cut her off.

  “You dislike me. It wasn’t just this morning, was it? It’s him, W-Mr. Buchannan, isn’t it?” Her voice shook as she addressed me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the candle. “I-I know you two are close. I assure you, Miss Carrington, I didn’t break his heart. In fact . . . never mind. We had an agreement.”

  The vision of the two of them—her fingers woven through his hair, his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin—flashed in my mind, and I met her eyes. Her hands were balled in her gray silk taffeta skirt. I was rarely cruel to anyone, but today, the anger and irritation bubbled within me.

  “I never considered his heart in danger,” I said. “It’s just that I find your actions rather crass.” I stepped toward the desk and edged my way between Mary and the top drawer. The wood screeched as I forced it open and withdrew two rolled sheets, the bylaws we’d drafted only yesterday. “In any case Miss Sanderson, I have to remind my sisters of Rule Fourteen: change in, or addition to membership, or a campaign for formal recruitment must first be mentioned in closed chapter meeting, then voted upon, and finally assessed for a trial period. As you’re probably aware, we haven’t yet breached step one in regard to—”

  Lily grasped my forearm and yanked me down to her level.

  “Rule Twenty-Six,” she said. “All actions designed to further or expand the presence of Beta Xi Beta will be discussed, voted on, and approved by the sisterhood before any action is taken. You’re in violation, too.”

  “This fraternity was my idea.” My words echoed against the stone, and I felt both supremely foolish and immensely annoyed at the same time. I didn’t want Miss Sanderson here, but Mary’s invitation couldn’t be undone without damage. It reminded me of the dinner parties we’d have when my mother was alive, my father insisting we entertain the wives of the copper stamping supply chain managers above his station, women who oftentimes left their plates untouched, clearly disapproving of my mother’s cooking and carefully crafted menus. In spite of my mother’s dislike of them, she’d always been graceful and polite, an example I knew she was trying to set for me. She’d be ashamed of me right now.

  “Don’t worry, Beth, no one will mistake you for humble now,” Mary laughed.

  “Miss Sanderson, I apologize. Of course you can stay,” I said. “I’ve been unnecessarily cruel, and I’m embarrassed. It’s only . . . well . . . I’ve had a horrible day.” Her face relaxed and she smiled, making me feel even worse than I already did.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “And call me Katherine, please. I know how easily this school, these people, can work their way under your skin . . . which is why I so badly want to be a part of this.” She turned to address the others. “It’s hard to stay the course alone. I nearly dropped out last semester because of it. I couldn’t stand the constant talk about me as though I hadn’t a brain.”

  I nodded, choking back the compulsion to point out that her behavior suggested she rather liked the treatment, as did allowing men to treat her poorly.

  “Well and good,” Lily said. “Now that that’s been settled, can we please get on with why we’ve come in the first place? Truth be told, Mary, I’m no good at coming up with lyrics to songs. I’m so terrible at music that I suppose it interferes with my ability to write. Perhaps you could dream it up along with the melody?”

  Mary shrugged. She had wanted us to invent a song, an anthem, for our sisterhood together—the Iota Gammas had several—but neither Lily nor I were skilled at music.

  “If we’re not going to do that today, would it be all right if I excused myself to the library?” Lily asked. “There are additional books I’ve got to check out for the class debate on the Baconian method of classification compared to the Dewey system and I’d rather take my study hour in my room than in the library this evening.”

  She’d been studying the material for weeks, hoping her diligence would reward her with high marks in her Library Economy courses. Though I knew she was concerned about her grades, I’d never seen her so anxious. Something else was bothering her, something besides what was going on in the room. “Plus, I’ve been keen to sneak that copy of The Canterbury Tales off of the shelves for some time,” she continued. “It’ll be my reward when this debate is finished.”

  “Honestly, Lily, I’m in no mood to compose in a hurry. Perhaps we should postpone until next time,” Mary said, passing her hand back and forth above the candle.

  “How’d you find a copy of The Canterbury Tales? I thought they’d all been destroyed in ’73, with the Comstock Law,” Katherine said, disregarding Mary’s comment about the song.

  “Lily has a way of finding all of the most scandalous books. Last semester she found an unabridged copy of The Arabian Nights,” I laughed.

  “It’s called an accident—or rather, fortune, I suppose,” she said with a smile. “There’s a shelf marked ‘discard’ at the very back of Richardson Library. No one ever goes back there, apparently even to empty it. I happened upon it after I’d scoured every other section of the library for a grammar book that I needed that strangely didn’t exist.”

  Katherine huffed.

  “Your classmates thought to trick you?”

  “Of course. Three of them were speaking quite loudly outside the classroom the first day about Professor . . . Professor Helms’s supposed required reading.” Lily stumbled over the words and for a moment, her face paled. “When I heard it, I thought it’d be better for me to feign illness and skip class to find the book, rather than to show up unprepared and be chastised for it the rest of the year.”

  “We’ve all had to learn our lesson around here,” Mary said. “Let’s not ruin our evening by discussing the scum of the college.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “We better go on to lunch before the four of us make our entrance in the middle of Chaplain Blair’s blessing,” Lily said. I rolled my eyes. Miss Zephaniah was always carrying on about tardiness as though it was the gateway to hell.

  * * *

  As it turned out, I was the only one who was late. I’d stayed behind under the guise that I would straighten the room and put our things away. After the way I’d disappointed my sisters, and the way Will had disappointed me, I was in no mood for eating, and if Miss Zephaniah asked after me I’d simply say I’d felt a bit ill—which was the truth.

  I closed our bylaws into the roll-top desk, reveling in the s
ilence. I plucked my damp coat from the chair beside me, put it on, situated my hat, and blew out the candle. The smoke fled toward the ceiling for a moment and I inhaled, recalling the similar scent of birthday candles in years past. This year, no one had remembered my birthday—my father hadn’t even sent a card—so I stood for a moment longer, closed my eyes, and conjured my mother’s smiling face in my mind. Happy Birthday to me.

  By the time I climbed the stairs and emerged on the first floor, the lanterns along the hall had been lit to offset the cloudy day. The flames danced against the medieval-looking iron sconces, sending thin shadows across the walls and on to the mob of silhouetted faces returning to their classes from lunch. I walked quickly toward the door to the courtyard at the end of the hall, hoping that a breath of cold air and a glimpse of new snow would refresh me for my chemistry course. I was exhausted, my wits frayed, and a nap in my modest twin bed seemed as luxurious as a canopy bed at the Palmer House Hotel.

  “Beth.” I heard my name shouted from behind me. Will. I didn’t want to talk to him. Not after what he’d done. He called my name again, closer this time, and I ducked down the hallway leading to the President’s office, hoping to lose him. Footsteps came behind me and I quickened my pace. My breath hitched in my chest as I took in the mingled scent of mildew and crisp cold from an opened window.

  “Beth,” Will said again, and clamped his hand down on my forearm and pulled me to him. At once, I was face-first in the damp of his brown wool Norfolk jacket, breathing his sandalwood cologne.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I said, jerking away, but Will’s grip barely gave. “Let go.” I refused to look at him, staring instead at the worn toes of his boots, currently exhibiting a slathering of mud and snow.

  “We both know I won’t until you hear me out, so you might as well listen,” he said. He was telling the truth. While I preferred space and time to think, I’d had enough conflicts with Will to know that he’d badger me until I agreed to work it through. To be fair, most of our quarrels had been the result of my father’s attempts to push me into the upper middle class world of the Buchannans, forcing invitations to socials and balls to which I hadn’t been invited. It was awkward and clear from the start that I hadn’t belonged—nor had I wanted to—but Will had always insisted I did, a measure that only reminded me of my father’s prodding. It wasn’t that I found the prospect of being attached to Will terrible, but he was my friend—one of my best friends, in fact—and I feared that a romance would only extinguish what we had. My father had only retired his hopes of my marrying Will and becoming a mediocre socialite when I’d convinced Will to invite Henrietta Anderson—a neighbor of his who was smitten with him—to a shared dinner last summer. Her interest and his false attentions had been so extreme that my father thought it clear they’d be engaged by fall, and he gave up his push. At that point, however, he seemed to have stopped caring. I’d already begun Whitsitt and his attentions had shifted to grooming Lucas for presumed greatness. I felt sorry for Lucas, too. It was clear that deep down Father had always desired acclaim and wealth, and since he hadn’t been able to achieve it himself, he decided to project his dreams onto our generation.