Chapter Six: Sparrow

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Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's will.
But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.
Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Matthew 10:29-31

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Leah

There was screaming all around me.

Or was there? Wait… It was me! I was screaming? But why?

And where was I?

I found my self bolt upright in bed, clutching a linen sheet to my chest. As my vision cleared, I realized where I was. The Opera House! Of course.

But still, the nagging question of my screaming. I must have had a nightmare, because it certainly wasn't morning. The sun had just barely nudged its head out from under the warm blanket of night. It cast a weak red luminescence on everything in the room. The white towel on the washstand had turned a cheerful shade of pink. The utilitarian navy blue of the comforters seemed almost purple as they embraced the sleeping forms of my roommates.

It was only then that I realized I wasn't the only one up.

There was a small movement beside me in the bed, and a sleepy groan. A small face ventured out of the blankets.

She was so adorable! I had never had a little sister, but after the events of last night, I felt an odd bond with the lump in the blankets beside me.

I had not expected to spend my first night here working in a kitchen. I was glad none of my family had been there! Abuela would have had a coronary attack.

At first, I had only felt shame and humiliation. When I had dreamed of coming to the Opera House, I knew that it would cost me dearly. The ballet corps was not exactly a refined finishing school. Far from it. They were reputed to be more of a brothel. After my brief conversations with a small section of the troupe, I understood why.

I knew that my chances at a respectable marriage were all but dead. It had not been easy to come here knowing what I would give up. Wedding an eligible man and raising a family was the only respectable profession for an aristocratic young woman. I had lowered my social standings forever, and I would always be a blemish on my family's name. But I had made my choice.

I would be married to my dancing.

But cooking dinner? Like a common servant? At first Beth's question had stirred up emotions of outrage in my breast. And yet, she seemed so innocent about asking. And why shouldn't she? I had decided earlier to avoid the complications that would inevitably come from being too free with my full name. She couldn't know what a degrading task she was asking of me. I couldn't refuse something so innocently requested of me.

I had to admit to myself that I no longer had the right to think of myself as anything more important than any of the other dancers here. It took so much more effort than I had ever thought possible just to reply with a simple "yes". With that one word, my whole world changed.

And as much as I hated to admit it to myself, part of me began to enjoy the demeaning exercise. Beth had set me to mincing up some kind of herb. The green, leafy stuff had a beautiful foreign sounding name that rolled off of my tongue like a light sigh. As I chopped methodically, I fell into an odd rhythm with Beth as she kneaded the dough for the crusty bread. I began to enjoy the colors and smells that surrounded me: The way Beth had tucked her hair behind her ear with a floury hand, and our young companion, always full of childish jokes and foolishness.

She howled with laughter when I had been the first to taste the sauce, for Beth must have added to much spice. One taste was enough to kill several taste buds. It was terribly spicy, and my face had turned bright red while Meg had positively howled with glee.

But I heard no laughter from her now.

Little Meg was a mess, her bond hair tousled at odd angles. Her groggy eyes were only thin slits as she stared at me, scrunching up her tiny forehead as though I were a complicated riddle. I couldn't help a small giggle. Already flustered at being awakened, Meg's mood was not improved by my ridicule.

Seeking support from someone who had more experience with being a big sister, I glanced over to Beth's slightly smaller bed. To my surprise, the lump I had thought to be a sleeping body was only a pile of blankets. Turning to Meg, I couldn't contain my concern.

"Where's Beth?"

"Mrmf … go back to bed Hannah … it's Sunday, we don't have to be up yet …"

I shook the child firmly, loosing patience in my worry.

"Meg, where's your sister? She's not here!"

Growing more aware of her surroundings, she shot me a glare of pure exasperation. Pulling the blue comforter closer around herself, she mumbled to me under her breath before rolling over, taking the blankets with her.

"Erg … Leah, she's just on the roof. Go back to bed!"

"WHAT?"

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It had taken several minutes longer to rouse Meg enough to get directions to the roof. I gave up trying to discover why Beth was high above the city, for the child kept shooting me glares that could have rivaled any of Satan's minions. Only her eyes and nose had resurfaced from the deep blue sea of our quilt, muffling her reply.

Perhaps that was for the best, as some of our little chat was, shall we say, less than Christian.

Meg was obviously not a morning person.

I steeled my resolve and stepped out of the covers, despite my body's insistence against the chilly air. I immediately regretted having done so.

"Good gracious!" I thought. Robed only in my thin cream shift and pantalets, I shivered uncontrollably. Sleeveless and edged in Venetian lace, the delicate undergarment was far too light to be traipsing about in though all the empty halls of the Opera House. I snatched up a brown throw from Beth's bed and tossed it over my shoulders. With another rude grunt, Meg flipped the covers back over her head and turned to her other side.

Leaving her to her blissful dreams, I hoped that I had wakened her enough to get an accurate bearing on the direction of the roof. Three lefts, next stair on your right, …

At the top of three flights of stairs, I found my hard earned prize. Cold morning air seeped under the bottom of an old door at the end of a damp, musky corridor. Upon closer inspection, the knob was rusted, and the red paint was chipped and peeling. From somewhere beyond the door came a faint sound. Tiptoeing closer still, I pressed an ear to the splintered wood.

Singing.

The melody was sweet and low. It was remarkably different from my Abuela's light voice, yet still pleasantly comforting. A bittersweet pang of homesickness stuck in the back of my throat at the smarting memory of my grandmother's soaring coloratura. A tear came to the corner of my eye, but I bit it back, remembering my some of my mother's parting words…

"Stop your crying bebé, I will see you again soon. Besides, crying is a sign of weakness. You are too strong for that."

Breaking the peaceful reverie of my eavesdropping, I decided it was time to find out just precisely what Beth was doing up here.

I stood up and examined the door once again, wondering how hard it would be to open it.

Expecting resistance from the questionable hinges, I threw my bony shoulder into the door.

In the split seconds before I hit the grey tiles of the rooftop, I reflected that perhaps I shouldn't have questioned those hinges with so much force. And my meditations were proved true upon impact. I glanced up, bleary eyed by the sudden burst of light. I turned my head to see an amazing sight. As I lay on my back, I could only gape in wonder.

It was a scene I could only imagine in the confines of the bible, or a storyteller's web.

The noise of my entrance had startled a vast flock of songbirds into flight. Each was outlined in contrast as I looked directly into the rising sun. Doves, sparrows, larks, every bird I could imagine, taking flight in a great swirling cloud that spiraled to the pastel heavens.

Completing the heavenly scene, Beth stood before me, her disheveled hair moving gently in the morning breeze. I could not make out the details of her person, for she appeared as a dark flat shape while the rising sun bloomed into a bright halo behind her.

Beth leaned down to take my hand.

I hastily catalogued the image away in my mind for later. What a painting that would be! If only I could get it to come out right. The way the birds dotted the sky. The dappled light of the sun rising in the east. Beth's auburn hair blowing out behind her in a halo.

But I couldn't focus on the painting I was planning. My insatiable curiosity was near exploding and the words just tumbled out without a thought as to what I was saying.

"What on earth are you doing up here?"

I wanted to strike myself. It had sounded like I was accusing her of a crime.

Thankfully, Beth chose to ignore my tone and continued helping me up. Then I caught a glimpse of the mischievous smile she was wearing. As I stood up, I could hear a quiet giggle escape her.

The familiar feelings of indignation and anger rose up inside me. Didn't she know who she was laughing at? How dare she laugh at…

I just barely caught myself before I let loose.

Nearly biting my tongue, I slowly calmed myself, trying to be objective.

"You aren't anything special anymore. You're no better than anyone else." I told myself firmly.

It took all my strength to keep that reality fixed in my mind. She didn't know who I was, and I wasn't that person anymore to begin with. So what was so funny?

I had to admit, my entrance had been less than graceful. I couldn't help the laughter I felt bubbling up in my throat. I snorted at the thought of what a sight I must have been. Beth joined me, and neither of us could stop for several minutes. Our laughter filled the chilly air, sending more disgruntled birds to join their companions in the sky.

When we ran out of breath at last, Beth took me by the hand and led me to the other side of the peak in the roof. She had laid out a small blanket on the cool slate shingles to soak up the dew. She quickly shifted the blanket's only occupants, a small stack of books, to one side and gestured for me to sit down with her. Idly fingering the spine of one of her books, I repeated my question. This time I made sure to watch my tone.

"So what are you doing up here? And what time is it anyway?"

She leaned back and pondered my questions for a minute before responding.

"Well, I came up here at about five o'clock. I'm not sure exactly how long I've been up here though. As for the other thing, I've been reading."

I rifled through the short pile beside me.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens,

Pride and Prejudice…

"Do you come up here every morning?"

"Mmh." She answered to the affirmative, reaching over me for a thicker, leather bound volume. She flipped through it until she found a small paper bookmarker.

Then she turned to me and asked, "Do you mind if I keep reading?"

"Not at all! Would you rather I went back downstairs?"

"Not if you don't want to." She replied nonchalantly and began to pursue the next passage.

I pondered getting up for a moment, but decided against it leaning all the way back onto the blanket and rearranging the throw I had brought up so that it covered my cold feet. I laid back and quietly watched the sparse clouds grow brighter in the sky as the sun continued to rise. After a few minutes, I became rather restless and turned to watch Beth as she read.

She seemed oblivious to the outside world, completely immersed in her book. There was a faint smile on the edge of her lips and at the corners of her gray-green eyes. My curiosity was sparked, and I broke the pleasant silence before I had the time to think.

"What're you reading?"

She looked up, a bit dazed at being interrupted. I instantly regretted having spoken. Then she smiled sweetly at my inquisitiveness.

"Would you like to see?"

She scooted near to me and began to read.

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's will.
But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.
Fear not, therefore;
You are of more value than many sparrows."

Well! That certainly wasn't Charles Dickens.

Beth

"The Bible?"

Leah looked up with such a childish kind of interest that I found myself smiling. Though she was only a year younger than me, right now she gave me a strong impression of Meg. "Odd," I mused silently, "how easy it is to shed the years instantaneously"

Or gain them.

Last night I had seen Leah perform that miracle as well.

Most of the evening had been filled with jokes and laughter. My smile widened a tad at the memory of Leah's face when she had sampled my sauce. I had thought her eyes were going to escape their sockets.

That still puzzled me. I couldn't remember having added any pepper. It was still quite humorous, regardless of the whys and hows.

But the night had latter turned to topics of a more meaningful nature. She had been curious about our family, and Meg was more than willing to share. When I had returned the question though, she had drawn in, strangely silent.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she had hugged them close to her body, closing her eyes. As she opened them again, it seemed that I watched her age a hundred years in a few seconds. Her gray irises looked cold, older than the earth.

Like something dead since the beginning of time.

Just then, Meg had burst out shouting. The crazy kid had tried some more of the sauce. By the time I turned back to Leah, she had pulled herself back to the real world, looking no older than her youthful fifteen.

As she did now.

Back in the here and now, Leah was scrutinizing my facial expressions, trying to discover why I had fallen silent in response to her question. She cocked her eyebrow at the movement of my head, wordlessly repeating her original question.

"Oui, the Bible. Do you understand what the passage means?"

"Um…yes?"

"Is that an answer or a question?" I laughed.

"Well, I suppose I should know what it means. My ab … my grandmother has been dragging me to church every Sunday since before I could remember."

"Don't you like church?" I asked inquisitively. Church had always been a refuge for me. A place where it was easy to feel near to God. I was difficult to think of his house as a boring place, although I suppose there had been more than a few instances where I had fallen asleep during services.

"Not really. I know I'm ought to enjoy being in the house of the Lord, but it's just kind of boring. I think everyone just goes because it's what you're supposed to do, not because they want to be there. Do you understand what I mean?

"Mmm, I suppose so."

"Do you mean to say that you enjoy going to church?" She asked, a bit disbelieving.

"Yes, most of the time at least. I feel very near to God there. I'm not sure how to explain it. We've had some of our best conversations there."

"Conversations? We?"

"Me and God."

There was that cocked eyebrow again.

"You talk to God? As in you hear voices or some such? Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, perfectly fine!" I giggled at the thought. "That didn't come out quite the way I intended. Perhaps I should call it prayer."

Leah
"Prayer?" I queried, still rather confused. "Prayer is just memorizing passages from a prayer book. How is that talking to God? Isn't God just some bright light off in the far corners of the sky somewhere? And if He is so powerful, why would he even want to talk to us?"

Beth tilted her head to the side and gazed into the pale clouds thoughtfully before answering. It seemed that she was choosing her words carefully.

"I suppose I've always thought of God as a very good friend."

What was she talking about? A friend? What friend would be so deaf to all my years of praying?

And yet … she seemed so very convicted. Though I wanted to block out her words, I was compelled to listen.

"I talk to him the same way that I am talking to you right now." The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly as she contemplated the idea fondly. "I tell him what's on my mind. The highlights of my day, the difficulties. I ask him to help me when I need it, and thank him when he does."

"And what about when he doesn't?" I wondered. I managed not to say it out loud. I just couldn't. Beth seemed so utterly convinced that what she was saying was true. I had to admit, it did sound rather comforting. She fell silent, and now it was I who chose my words carefully. I didn't want to be indelicate about something so important to my new friend.

"But how is that a conversation? Don't you need two people for that? I suppose you could do it with one, but people tend to think you a tad insane if you start talking to people who aren't there. Do you hear voices?"

"No, I don't hear the voice of God, silly! Although it is possible. No, God does speak to me, just not audibly. This is how." She hefted her worn Bible…

Beth spent the rest of the morning explaining her philosophies to me, but the clarifications merely served to confuse me further.

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Authoress's Notes: Wow, the language in this chapter still really sucks, even after my vain attempts to edit it. Please don't hate me for this terribly written update, I swear that they get better eventually! And review, dearies, review! I give cheesecake… (she waves a slice of fresh cheesecake seductively under her reader's communal noses)