Secret Sisters

by Joy Callaway

  I exhaled, waiting for the repercussions of breaking two of Whitsitt’s rules.

  President Wilson’s brows rose.

  “Would you like me to reconsider? Get to class, Miss Carrington.”

  “Thank . . . thank you, sir,” I stuttered. I started unsteadily toward the door, not gambling another millisecond by waiting for Mary, Katherine, or Grant to catch up with me. As angry as President Wilson had been, it seemed quite strange that he hadn’t given me some sort of punishment beyond a metaphorical smack on the wrist, but I wasn’t complaining. I found my way out of the door, and paced down the empty hallway, realizing only after I’d made my way to the stairwell that I was shaking.

  13

  The halls were vacant as I climbed to the general science hall on the third floor. The flood of students transitioning to their next classes had dispersed with the clock’s shift to eleven-thirty. My chest still ached with the echo of my heart thumping. I’d almost lost everything. We’d been too hasty in approaching the board, our passion for immediate recognition fueled by Professor Helms’s disgusting overtures and the atrocities dealt us in the classroom. But now that we’d been found out, it could happen again, and I doubted President Wilson would be as quick to dismiss it the next time.

  The heady stink of formaldehyde forced its way into my nostrils as I reached the third floor landing. I coughed, my mind conjuring its source—the dozens of bloated frog corpses floating in jars at the front of the biology laboratory—and felt thankful that I wouldn’t have to participate in another dissection course until next year. Last semester, I’d gone to the laboratory every evening and each time I’d been confronted with the lifeless forms, I’d been reminded of the vision of my mother’s body, swollen and pale in our living room. The lid of the oak coffin had been propped open, sprays of flowers arranged around her soulless shell like the brightly colored lanterns in front of a freak show—attracting people to a sight so sadly unfair it would stay with them for years to come.

  As my mother came into mind, I realized what I had to do. I had to dissolve Beta Xi Beta. It wasn’t worth the risk. We’d given it a valiant effort, but we’d failed. I couldn’t let the fraternity ruin my future or my friends’. If I was expelled, my life could mimic my mother’s, and that kind of legacy wouldn’t honor her. President Wilson was right: a women’s fraternity would be a revolution, and I hadn’t come to Whitsitt to start one. I’d come here to become a physician.

  I took a breath through my mouth and made my way toward the physics classroom at the end of the hall. I spotted Will shuffling lackadaisically down the corridor in front of me in an indigo wool coat, as though he wanted to be later to his test than he already was.

  “Will,” I whispered. He stopped and turned to face me. “We were found out. One of the aides found out about . . . about us. President Wilson excused the offense this time, but—”

  “What?”

  I reached him in a few strides, realizing that in the seconds it had taken me to get to him, his attention had been drawn over my head. I could smell ginger candy on his breath. It was the only way he could make it through a test without vomiting, an antidote he’d discovered last year after he’d regurgitated his breakfast during the freshman seminar final. Examinations had always unnerved him, and though he insisted his lack of preparation had nothing to do with it, I begged to differ.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked, but he didn’t. His face paled. I heard a door slam, watched Will’s shoulders twitch, and turned to find Kate Cable, the only woman Will had ever loved, standing alone in the middle of the hall. She was looking the other way, toying with a stray auburn strand that had come free of her loose bun as though she hadn’t any idea which way to go. Miss Cable revolved toward us, and before I could comprehend what her presence meant, a strong arm swept across my back, jerking me into an embrace, and a hand wrapped around the nape of my neck. His lips fell on my forehead before I could stop him, and then in an instant, he released me. Neither of us moved, as though if we did, the crack that Will had just scored down the glass castle of our friendship would shatter.

  “Yes,” he whispered, answering a question I’d forgotten I’d asked. “Are you all right? I’m sorry. I should’ve been there.”

  “Mr. Buchannan. How nice to see you,” Miss Cable said beside us. I stepped farther from Will, thinking that if I walked away now, while they were still staring at each other, I could spare myself the possibility that Miss Cable would bring up the embrace she’d just witnessed.

  “And . . . and you, Kate . . . Miss Cable,” he said. She’d flustered him—as she always had. I could still recall the blush on his face the night he met her. He’d been coming back to Whitsitt after Christmas, and had stopped his coach upon noticing hers had careened off the snowy road to campus. They’d got on instantly, and were barely separated after—until her departure. I’d asked him if he’d had any clue of why she hadn’t responded to the confession that he loved her, why she hadn’t said goodbye after graduation, but he’d had none. He still didn’t. He thought they’d been in love.

  “Miss Carrington,” she said, tipping her head at me. I nodded, surprised she recalled my name. I wasn’t going to act as though I liked her. She’d broken my best friend’s heart. “I just knew the two of you would eventually find each other.” Neither of us said anything. Will was still staring at her. I wished he would snap out of his shock and return to normal. Miss Cable pursed her rosebud lips.

  “Well then. I suppose I’ll be going. I’ve just come to retrieve something I left behind last year.” She lifted her gloved hand to clutch Will’s arm.

  “What? What did you leave?” His question came out in a hoarse whisper, no doubt thinking what I was: that she’d come back for him. Miss Cable threw her head back and laughed. She’d known exactly what she was doing baiting him that way, knowing that he’d think she was referring to him, that he was what she’d left behind. I wanted to speak up, to tell her how little I thought of her, but that would only humiliate Will.

  “My briefcase of course, I—”

  “Apologize.” Grant’s voice boomed down the hall and my heart lurched in my chest. “I said, apologize to her, Buchannan. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. They weren’t.” I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him. How long had he been standing behind me? Apparently long enough to see Will pull me against him. Will blinked, gaze blank over my shoulder.

  “I should go,” Miss Cable said, but I barely heard her.

  “You’ll apologize to Beth,” Grant said. Grant pushed a hand through his black hair and waited for Will to say something, but was met with silence. Suddenly, Grant lurched forward, snatching Will’s lapels.

  “You’ll do as I say.” Grant snarled the words, but Will didn’t seem to register, eyes still focused on the empty space where Miss Cable had stood moments earlier. “Apologize,” Grant said again, jerking Will toward him. At once, the haze cleared from Will’s eyes and he laughed.

  “Unhand me, Richardson,” he said, attempting in vain to back away from Grant. “I wasn’t trying to steal your sweetheart. I was trying to show a certain woman what she’d lost.”

  “You’re a cad,” Grant said. “It wouldn’t matter if you were trying to entice Beth. She wouldn’t choose you.”

  He let Will go, and I backed away from them.

  “Are you all right?” Grant asked. His eyes creased with worry. I nodded. I didn’t know why Grant seemed so concerned, unless he was more perceptive than I thought.

  “It was just an embrace.” Will said, shrugging as though his kissing my forehead were a habit, as though he hadn’t altered our friendship with one gesture. He rolled his eyes at Grant and then looked at me. “I’m sorry, Beth.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Good luck on your test.”

  “I’ll need it.” He walked away. I watched him go, running his fingers down the wall as he went. He was selfish. He wasn’t my friend. He’d used me and sacrificed the purity of our relationship in turn.
r />   Grant clutched my arm.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t get here in time to stop him. I followed you up here to make sure you were all right after what happened with the board. I came up the stairs at the far end of the hall,” he said, tipping his head to a spot over my shoulder. “I saw a man grab someone, but I couldn’t tell it was you and Buchannan until I got closer. I’m nearsighted, but I rarely wear glasses. Even given his . . . his tendency for escapades, I didn’t think he’d be so crass.”

  I couldn’t read his face, whether it betrayed either jealousy or anger. Whatever it was, he was trying hard to disguise it.

  “Will loved her . . . Miss Cable,” I said, stunned that even in my anger I’d defend him. “He didn’t think before he did it. He panicked. When he let me go, he looked as though he’d seen a ghost. In any case, I was much more disturbed by my near expulsion, but your reasoning with President Wilson saved me.”

  Grant nodded and then he smiled. I leaned toward him and took his hand, remaining close as I took in the notes of coconut and palm oil in his hair.

  “Without you, I’d be on a train back to Chicago by sundown.”

  “Thank goodness I could think of a way to help. I couldn’t bear the thought of you gone,” he said. “And I’m sorry about the fraternity. Even though I was never for it, I know how passionately you loved it.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “It meant a lot to me, but my studies mean more.” I studied the detail on the row of brass buttons along his wool coat in an attempt to distract myself from the sadness I felt at the loss of our sisterhood. “And as much as I want to, I can’t risk trying to convince him again. Perhaps someday, after I’ve graduated, I could petition the board to start one for the women after me . . . if there are any left.”

  Grant laughed.

  “The women will still be here,” he said. “Patrick Everett made sure of that, and Whitsitt can’t survive without his money . . . well, without his money and mine.”

  The church tower rang in the distance, signaling half past twelve.

  “I’ve got to get to class,” I said, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  Grant lifted my hand to his mouth, kissed it, and let it go.

  “I’ll see you later, Miss Carrington,” he said. “And, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps, when you come back to this school as a regarded female physician, they’ll actually listen.”

  * * *

  Professor Stallings barely acknowledged me when I walked into my physics class. The room was windowless, lit only by four oil lamps spread along a desk at the front. He squinted at the door, gestured for me to sit with the small rod he always carried, as if it didn’t bother him that I was late, and turned back to a representation of waves on one side of the board and tiny dots on the other. I sank into a chair at the back, thankful that the rest of the students were mostly gathered in the front half of the room. As hard as I tried to concentrate, Professor Stallings’s voice was only a hum somewhere on the periphery of my thoughts.

  “Mr. Goldin, tell me about A.J. Fresnel’s Wave Theory.”

  “I . . . I’m not sure sir.”

  My attention snapped back to the lecture. He never called on anyone. If he called on me next, I was unprepared to respond.

  The classroom erupted in laughter as Professor Stallings attempted a joke about a particle traveling light, but despite my effort, I could barely remain present. Instead, I felt the echo of tension in my chest as President Wilson had extracted our bylaws from his desk, felt Will’s lips on my forehead, and saw the genuine concern on Grant’s face when he’d asked if I was all right.

  Grant had saved me yet again, calmed my heart for the third time. I was thankful for his momentary stability because as angry as I was at Will, I was also concerned for him. From the moment Miss Cable had broken his heart last year, I’d worried about him—and rightly so. He’d careened into debauchery with such ease, acting as though nothing had the capacity to hurt him, but it was easy to see that that was only an act. His heart had been severed anew when he’d seen Miss Cable today. Unlike Grant, who masked his pain in an arrogant façade so practiced that the only way you’d get through was if he chose to let you, Will’s wounds were always visible. They were so easily detected that Miss Cable had known exactly the right place to prod her knife to see if she still had an effect on him. Her callousness made me sick.

  “Augustin-Jean Fresnel was so confident in his findings that it’s said he found greater pleasure in being right than he did in receiving compliments from his critics,” Professor Stallings said before pausing to examine the room. He leaned toward us. “You must understand. When you’re long graduated and finished with studying physics or anatomy or biology, you must find pride in yourself, you must believe that you possess the power to restore health. Your patients will feel your confidence, and they’ll be at ease in your presence.”

  Professor Stallings turned back to the board to continue his lecture. He drew his rod along the waves, emitting a terrible screeching noise that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

  “With all due respect, Professor, what does any of this have to do with diagnosing and treating patients?” The question came from someone behind me, interrupting Professor Stallings’s lecture. Professor Stallings laughed.

  “Believe it or not, Mr. Alcott, you’re not the first student to ask. But, the truth is that the study of physics is the basis of everything you’ll do. It’s the study of matter, the very particles of the body. If you don’t understand the way matter reacts, you’ll never understand how the body works. I’ll give you an example,” Professor Stallings said, tapping the top of his desk. “I trust you’ve secured your summer apprenticeship, Mr. Alcott. What will you be doing?”

  My heart sank at the mention of an apprenticeship. Will had said only a few weeks before that I was ahead of everyone else in my search. Perhaps I’d only been more aggressive than him.

  “My father specializes in optics,” the student responded with a sigh.

  “Ha!” Professor Stallings responded, thrusting his finger toward Mr. Alcott. “Fresnel’s Wave Theory will have a direct impact on your practice. You see, his hypothesis was a breakthrough in magnification. As of now, it’s only being used in lighthouses, but it’s rumored that with a bit of time, the same technique can be utilized in eyeglasses.”

  The professor paused, clearly expecting some type of wonderment from Mr. Alcott.

  “Oh,” he said.

  Stallings shook his head and glanced around the room.

  “This is a deviation from the syllabus, but . . . if you’ve secured an apprenticeship, please raise your hand.”

  Papers shuffled as nearly every student abandoned their notes to raise their hands. Urgency raced through my veins, and I tried to quash the notion that if I hadn’t found a position yet, I never would.

  “Thank you,” Professor Stallings said, and the hands lowered. “Mr. Washburn. Your apprenticeship will be?”

  “I’ll be working with my family’s physician in Connecticut, sir.”

  I stared at Mr. Washburn’s back, at his red curly hair and stick-straight posture, wondering if his bedside manner would be as rigid as he was.

  “You’ll be responsible for quite a lot,” Professor Stallings said. “I imagine you’ll do a fair amount of hernia repairs. In 1646, a man named Blaise Pascal inserted a tube into a barrel filled with water. He then poured water into the tube and the barrel burst.”

  The professor stopped for a moment and drew a rudimentary depiction of the experiment on the blackboard. “The notion that the change in pressure at any point in an enclosed fluid at rest is transmitted undiminished to all points in the fluid will be important to remember because it’ll help you reduce cut-through. The thickness of the suture will determine the tissue reaction.”

  Stallings dusted the chalk from his hands as his eyes settled on me.

  “Miss Carrington, what will you be working on this summer?”

  My mouth opened, but nothing
came out. Surely he’d noticed that I hadn’t raised my hand.

  “Miss Carrington?” I waited for him to go on, to make an example of the only female medical student, a student without an apprenticeship, but he didn’t.

  “I’m . . . I’m afraid I don’t know yet,” I said. “But I’ve applied to several hospitals. I’d like to work with acute and terminal cases.”

  “Interesting,” he said, his tone even. “I imagine most hospitals are still living under an archaic system. It will be rather difficult to secure an apprenticeship as a female, I fear.”

  Voices and laughter rose in response to his words and my jaw pinched shut.

  “Silence!” he shouted. I’d had no idea that Professor Stallings was so progressive. “If you can’t secure a vocation close to home, I recommend you try the New England Hospital for Women and Children, if you haven’t already, or any of the larger institutions in New York City. They seem to be a bit more enlightened.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  “In any case, you’ll see mostly diseased organs and tissue as a hospital physician dealing with acute illnesses. That line of work will demand that you have a solid understanding of the body at an atomic level, because that’s where disease begins and spreads. Most of the time, patients requiring acute care will need to be dealt with swiftly—if they are to live at all. Are you certain that you want to subject yourself to the heartache, Miss Carrington?”

  I nodded, hearing the faraway sound of my mother’s screams as they’d cut into her chest.

  I’d been on the other side of the wall, in reception, when they’d decided to see if her lungs had been restricted by mucus. They’d given her ether, but not enough. They said she’d gone into shock after, that her lungs hadn’t been able to keep up with her hysteria. Whatever the actual reason, she’d died three days later.

  “Very well, my dear,” Professor Stallings said. His voice sounded tunneled and hollow to me, far away from the memories at the forefront of my mind. “You’re much stronger than I.” He glanced at his watch. “It seems that we’re out of time, class. We’ll continue with the wave theory first thing next week.”