He grinned at her. “So can you imagine how cool it must be, to see so many hatchings at once? All of them coming to life at one time, like it was planned.”
“It must be incredible.”
“Do you want to come along on Beltane night? Saturday, I guess that would be. I know it’s probably just a myth, but if it really does happen…”
She was surprised at how much she regretted having to tell him, “I can’t. The dance is that night.”
“Oh.” He thought for a second. “Could you leave early?”
“I don’t think my boyfriend would be too happy if I ditched him to go butterfly watching with you.”
“You’ve got that right,” said a deep voice, and Gail was startled to find Darryl leaning against the railing of her front steps. He had wavy dark hair with a forelock like a ’50s greaser, and a grin with a touch of devilry about it. He was handsome but didn’t act like he knew it, which was one of the nice things about him. She wondered how long he’d been waiting for her, and feeling guilty she went over to be kissed hello. He slung an arm around her and regarded Jim. “So you’re what was holding Gail up.”
He said it mildly enough, but Jim said quickly, “I didn’t mean to. We were just—”
“Never mind. If it was anything to do with the Sumners, I’m not surprised. Thanks to them I have to actually schedule time with my girlfriend.”
The last thing she wanted was for him to start harping on that again. “Darryl, this is Jim,” she said hastily. “He’s studying butterflies and moths.”
Darryl jerked his head in greeting. “You at Murphy too, then?”
“Young Harris,” said Jim diffidently. “It’s my first year.”
“Uh huh.” Darryl was no longer listening. “Listen,” he said to her, “why don’t you go ahead and get changed? Unless you’re planning to go into town looking like Katharine Hepburn.”
She wished she’d had time to change out of her gardening jeans and sneakers before he’d arrived. He always commented when she looked messy. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks burning.
Jim blinked at her. “Sorry for looking like Katharine Hepburn? She was a babe.”
“Dressed like a bag lady, though,” said Darryl. “Baggy khakis and tennis shoes… d’you need me to pick something out for you?”
“No, I can manage. Nice meeting you,” she said quickly to Jim, and his “You too” trailed after her as she darted up the front steps and into the house, wondering whether her madras sundress would satisfy Darryl or if she’d need to iron the linen one.
* * *
“That’s its head coming out now. Then bloop, all of a sudden its body will follow—there it goes.”
“Why’s it just hanging there?” asked Joy. “Why isn’t it flying away?”
Jim smiled at her impatience. To him the process took place with astonishing speed, but he could imagine how slow it must seem to a seven-year-old. “It’s not ready to fly quite yet,” he told her. “See how small its wings are compared to the mounted butterfly we looked at? It’s going to hang out there for a little while as the liquid from its body pumps into its wings and makes them bigger and stronger.”
The classroom in the Young Harris science building was deserted that Saturday afternoon except for the three of them. When he’d noticed one of the monarchs was about to hatch, he’d called the Sumner house and had been lucky enough to get Gail. She brought Joy over at once so the little girl could watch the amazing process.
Now Joy stood at eye level with the pale green monarch chrysalis, which was suspended, along with at least a dozen others, from the top of a cardboard box from which the side had been cut so that they could be observed. Joy’s face was so close that her breath stirred the hanging case, and Gail gently drew her back a few inches without looking away from what was happening in the box. Jim had brought his camera intending to take pictures, but he hadn’t taken a single one yet, just as absorbed as Joy in the birth of the butterfly… and watching Gail.
She was wearing a coral sundress and sandals today, and her long brown hair hung in a glossy braid down her back. Little gold hoops twinkled distractingly at her earlobes. Maybe she was trying to fend off more jabs about Katharine Hepburn.
He couldn’t believe what a jerk Darryl was, criticizing his girlfriend like that in front of a stranger. But it hadn’t seemed to offend Gail. And Darryl’s comparison was right in one way, at least: Gail’s slim toned legs, revealed by the short skirt of her sundress, were just as nice as Hepburn’s. Was she a runner, maybe?
“It’s taking so long,” Joy objected, bringing his wandering thoughts back to the matter at hand. With its slender spidery legs the monarch butterfly found a foothold on the chrysalis it had shed and hung there suspended. Ripples moved through its thorax, pushing liquid into its wings.
“Being born tends to take a while,” said Gail, giving her an affectionate look. It was obvious how attached to Joy she was. She had even picked out butterfly-shaped barrettes for Joy’s sandy hair in honor of the occasion.
Her answer didn’t satisfy Joy, though. “Can we help it go faster? We could squeeze its tummy.”
“Ooh, that’s not a good idea,” Gail said hastily. “It would be really easy to hurt him. Wouldn’t it, Jim?”
“Definitely. We’re so much stronger. In nature it’s pretty much always better to let things happen on their own without interfering; there’s a big risk of doing more harm than good.”
Joy nodded thoughtfully, accepting this. But Gail looked troubled—far more troubled than could be explained by a butterfly hatching. “What if there’s a creature that really needs help?” she asked slowly. “What if it needs to be protected—like now, when it’s vulnerable and can’t fly away?”
Instantly he realized she was thinking of Joy. To have lost her mother so young… no wonder Gail was so protective of her. Even now, apparently unconsciously, she’d wrapped her arms around Joy’s shoulders as if to shield her.
But Joy wouldn’t always have her there. At some point she’d need to be able to cope without her babysitter.
He chose his words carefully. “Sometimes an insect or an animal does need protecting. When it’s really young, say, if it’s lost its—” He caught himself before he could say parents. “If it’s on its own,” he said instead. “But eventually everything in nature has to be able to stand on its own. Even rescued animals have to be able to return to the wild.”
“Not all of them do, though,” Gail insisted. “Some of them can’t fend for themselves and have to be kept safe.” Her soft brown eyes were distressed, and he wanted to smooth out with his fingertip the worry crease that had appeared between her eyebrows. And then let that fingertip travel along the adorable curve of her nose and down to her full, blush-colored lips.
He gave himself a mental shake. Focus, Brody. He wouldn’t be any help to her if all he could think about was how cute she was. “Yeah, some never return to their natural habitat,” he said. “But what kind of existence is that for a creature that was born to be free? If they can’t leave their shelter, they’re not going to experience a full life.”
He didn’t dare make it any plainer. It wasn’t his place to tell Gail what to do, and he knew she wouldn’t accept any answer she didn’t arrive at herself.
Unless it was something Darryl told her. He was the type of guy that girls always seemed to fawn on—the type that made Jim feel inadequate. Good-looking, confident, never at a loss for words—Jim frequently felt at a loss for words with girls, having spent so little time around girls his own age during all the years he was homeschooled. Especially ones as pretty as Gail. But at least he didn’t get tongue-tied talking about insects, so he didn’t come off as completely inarticulate.
Yeah, that’d win her over. Dump your studly boyfriend and go out with me! I may be an awkward four-eyed dork, but I can name all the body parts of a moth. Real smooth, Romeo. He’d just embarrass both of them if he made a play for her—not that there was any chance in the world th
at she’d even be interested.
Joy squeaked with excitement, pointing. “Look at that other cocoon! I think it’s going to hatch too!”
He followed her pointing finger and observed the crack that had appeared in one of the other dangling pupal cases. “He must have decided to show off for you. This is actually what we call a chrysalis, though; that’s what most butterflies have. Cocoons are almost always made by moths.”
“So there’s actually a difference?” asked Gail. “They aren’t moths by default if they’re nocturnal?”
Amazingly, she really sounded interested. “It has to do with their antennae and wing structure. Here, I’ll show you.” He flipped through his textbook until he found a diagram, then pointed out the differences. By the time he was done, the first butterfly was flexing its newly magnificent wings, almost at their full size.
Gail’s eyes were resting on him thoughtfully when he finally put the book aside. “You’d be a good teacher,” she said.
The realization that she’d been thinking about him gave him a rush, but at the same time it made him feel self-conscious. “It’s nice of you to say so,” he said awkwardly. “I really wanted to teach, until I found out I’m not suited for it.”
“Not suited? That’s ridiculous. Who told you that?”
Her certainty was flattering, but he couldn’t let it go to his head. “One of my professors,” he said, not adding that it had been the department head. “I asked him about jobs in the field, and he set me straight. My voice won’t carry enough for a class to hear me, for one thing.”
“But there are exercises you can do for that,” she said instantly. “To use your diaphragm to project your voice, and stuff. Darryl knows all about it—it’s one of the first things you learn when you’re an actor. He could teach you.”
Yeah, right. I’m sure he’d love to. “It’s more than that. It’s… well, my whole bearing, apparently. So much of teaching is about discipline and keeping order. I’m not a strong enough personality to keep a bunch of rowdy students on task.”
She folded her arms. “That sounds like someone else talking,” she said. “Was that your professor again? Why’s he working so hard to discourage you?”
He almost wished he hadn’t brought it up. “My parents,” he said reluctantly. “I think they’re afraid I’ll end up scraping by in a teaching job and barely supporting myself. It’s too bad, because I’ve really enjoyed helping homeschool my little brothers.”
“You shouldn’t let them talk you out of it,” she told him. “Plenty of people support themselves just fine on a teacher’s pay. Dr. Sumner, for one.” Her eyes weren’t soft now but bright with purpose. Her cheeks had gone pink, and she looked ready to lead French revolutionaries into battle. And this was all for him. Imagine what it would be like—no. Don’t imagine. Don’t let yourself think about it; it’s impossible.
“And I think you’re a really good teacher,” Joy chimed in unexpectedly, and the moment passed. He laughed in relief and rumpled her hair.
“Thanks,” he said. “Maybe you can write me a letter of recommendation.”
* * *
As Jim walked them back to the visitor parking lot, Joy went skipping ahead, arms outstretched like wings. “Don’t go too far,” Gail called out of habit. But at the same time she was glad of the chance to talk to Jim alone. “Have you found out anything more about the legend?” she asked. “The big butterfly birthing at Ash Grove?”
He shook his head. “Not a lot. And the accounts tend to be really vague about important details, like where on the grounds this is supposed to happen.”
“Don’t butterflies usually look for a certain kind of place to make their chrysalis… es?”
He smiled at her attempt at the plural, and she felt a momentary breathlessness that she tried to quell. It was ridiculous to be getting all swoony over the guy. Sure, he was nice… and smart… and had an amazing smile… but Darryl was all those things too. She was perfectly happy as Darryl’s girlfriend.
Suddenly, though, she found herself thinking of all the hours she’d spent listening to Darryl dissect an actor’s performance after watching a movie and thought how much nicer it was to actually be learning things. Meaningful things, not stuff like how many pounds Christian Bale had lost for a role and how Daniel Day-Lewis got into character.
“So much depends on the particular type,” Jim said, unaware of how far her thoughts had traveled. “And I don’t know a thing about these guys—even whether they’re butterflies or moths. Or something in between.”
“Like… boths? Or motherflies?”
She was ridiculously pleased when that made him laugh. “Something like that. The scientific terms aren’t as catchy as yours.” He watched as Joy pretend-flew around a bicycle rack, arms fluttering. The sound of her singing to herself carried back to them. In a lower voice he asked, “What was Joy’s mother like?”
Gail felt the laughter ebb away. “She was great,” she said slowly. “Everyone said how brilliant she was—she was this really talented musician, even had a couple of CDs out—but to me she was just nice. She was funny, and cool in a kind of granola way.”
“Does Joy take after her?”
“Not in looks. It’s a shame, because Anna was gorgeous. She had this fairytale-princess hair, all long and curly… it sounds silly, but I really envied her that. When I said so once she just laughed and said I was lucky I could use a blow drier without turning into a Chia pet.”
That made him smile. “You miss her.”
“Yeah.” She had to clear her throat. “She was so easy to talk to. Maybe because she was so much younger than my parents. She would have known what I should do about—” She bit off the words. About UCLA, and Darryl—and you, she had almost said.
What would Anna have advised her? Maybe not to hurry in making a decision. But that was the thing: time was running out. She needed to commit to a plan—and a college. And as for Jim… Gail didn’t even know if he was available, let alone attracted to her. Sure, he was friendly, and he’d invited her and Joy here to watch the butterfly hatch, but that was just sharing his favorite subject and doing something nice for a lonely little kid. It wasn’t about any interest in Gail.
Because guys just didn’t tend to be that interested in her. She wasn’t bubbly and vivacious, or drop-dead beautiful, or built like a bombshell. That was why it had seemed like such a miracle when gorgeous, popular Darryl had singled her out. He’d been hanging out with a group of Ash Grove students at the mall—Gail had recognized them from their expensive clothes and the fact that all of them were good-looking. And then the best-looking one had detached from the group and ambled up to Gail with a smile that made her knees buckle.
“I’m Darryl,” he’d said, and took her hand. Just like that, as if they were already dating. “We’re having an impressions contest. I need you to tell everyone that my Nicolas Cage is the best.”
“Okay,” she’d said, and that was the beginning of everything. All these months later, she still couldn’t believe how lucky she was that Darryl was into her. But more and more she caught herself wondering if that was a good enough reason to take such a big step with him.
They had reached Gail’s car, a battered old Ford Escort with the driver’s-side window permanently at half mast. She was relieved when Jim didn’t comment on how ramshackle it looked, as Darryl always did. Joy was still flitting around the parking lot, being a butterfly, and Gail hesitated to call a halt to her play. She kind of envied Joy, even. How nice to not have all the questions weighing her down, to just be a little kid again.
Beside her, Jim cleared his throat. When she looked at him, she found that a red flush had crept over his cheeks. He really did have wonderful cheekbones. If he chose to become a teacher after all, he wouldn’t have any trouble holding the attention of female students, that was for sure.
“Gail,” he said, “would you like—I mean, would you ever—”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. Have a goo
d time at the dance.” He dropped his eyes and prodded a rock with the toe of his sneaker, and she felt a dart of disappointment so sharp that it startled her. She should have known better than to think even for a second that a college guy would be interested in her, let alone one as cute and smart as Jim.
Not that she wanted him to be interested in her. She already had a boyfriend, after all.
Unless, thought a part of her brain, he goes off to California and I don’t go with him…
But now wasn’t the time to think about that. She needed to get home and start the long, laborious process of getting ready for the dance.
“Joy, time to go,” she called, and the little girl came running up, breathless and beaming. Once they’d both gotten into the car and Gail had made sure Joy’s seatbelt was secure, she looked up at Jim. “Good luck tonight,” she said. “I hope you find your motherflies.”
“Can I go with you?” came the unexpected question from Joy. Her big blue eyes were fixed beseechingly on Jim.
He shook his head, with a smile to soften the refusal. “I’m afraid it’ll be way past your bedtime, Joy. And probably I’ll just end up stumbling around in the dark without finding anything.”
The forlorn expression on Joy’s freckled face gave Gail a pang. “Jim will take pictures if he does find anything,” she said to cheer her up. “He can show them to you tomorrow. Right, Jim?”
“Absolutely. If there’s anything there worth seeing, believe me, I’ll grab it.” His eyes happened to meet Gail’s then, and to her mortification she could feel a blush spreading over her face.
He didn’t mean you. Hastily she averted her eyes and put the car in gear. “See you later,” she mumbled, and drove off a little too quickly, so that the breeze coming in the half-open window would cool the blush on her cheeks.
* * *
“I still think Darryl should be picking you up.”
On Shadowed Wings (An Ash Grove Short Story) Page 2
