A Mosaic of Wings

by Kimberly Duffy

  “I don’t think I can make it.” Nora clutched her foot in her lap.

  “Bitsy, come help me lift her,” Rose shouted.

  Bitsy pointed at something behind them. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  When Nora turned, she saw her classmate Owen Epps sitting in the rowboat, the oar resting over his lap. He pushed his hat back with his forefinger. “Need some help, Phenomenon?”

  Nora wished the water would rise and cover her. Owen Epps was the last person she wanted help from. They’d spent the last three years locked in academic competition. Out of the twenty students in the entomology program, Nora and Owen were the top performers. But where Nora focused on studying, Owen’s good grades seemed to be part and parcel of his charmed life. She’d never seen him express any real seriousness toward his education.

  She looked at him, lounging in his boat with his jaunty straw hat, and clenched her jaw. “No, I don’t.”

  “How’d you end up in the water?”

  “I fell out of the tree.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “What were you doing in the tree?”

  “Climbing it.” She attempted to stand again, but the pain stopped her before she could straighten her knees. “To get a better look at the monarchs. The entire tree was crowded with them.”

  “They’re early this year,” Owen said, watching her from beneath his shaggy blond brows.

  “Yes, I know.” She sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to make it out of the water by herself. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled her pride. “I need help, Owen.”

  He grinned, sprang from the boat, and pulled it aground, splashing toward her a moment later to scoop her against his chest. She held her arms rigid, trying not to touch him any more than necessary.

  “Relax, Nora.” He laughed into her hair. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “I seem to have managed that on my own.”

  Reaching the shore, he asked Rose to shake out the blanket, and then he set Nora down on it.

  “You might want to . . .” His glance skittered to her bottom half then away toward the water.

  Looking down, Nora saw her stockinged legs, the knot in her skirt settled on top of her knees like a lump of coal. “Not one word about it, Owen Epps.” After she yanked at the knot and rearranged her skirts, she tugged her boot laces loose, sighing when the pressure against her ankle eased.

  “Do you need to see a doctor?” Bitsy asked.

  Nora flexed her foot and then stuck her hand down the side of her boot. She prodded the area above her ankle, feeling mild tenderness and some swelling. “I think it’s just sprained. I’ll rest here a few moments, and then we can head home.”

  “Your face is a mess.” Bitsy patted her own smooth cheeks.

  Nora ran her fingers from her cheekbone to her jawline. She definitely had some abrasions, but when she looked at her hand, there was no blood. She couldn’t think how she’d explain her injuries to her mother, though, who thought Nora had stopped climbing trees once she donned long skirts.

  She looked up at Owen, blinking against the sunlight that shaded his face and cast a glow over the tousled hair that escaped from underneath his hat. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Am I being dismissed?”

  “Oh no.” Rose grabbed his arm. “Nora is so grateful. Here . . . sit. Sit.” She tugged him to the blanket and sat across from them once he’d been settled.

  “You may as well join our little party, Bitsy.” Nora scooted to give Bitsy room and bumped into Owen. She cleared her throat and forced a tight smile.

  Bitsy arranged herself on the blanket and lifted her long, tapered fingers to her lips. It was a look Nora knew signified scheming. Bitsy may have been descended from British gentry, but that didn’t preclude her from being manipulative.

  “I believe it would be best if you took Nora back to town, Owen,” Bitsy said. “I’m sure you row your boat much more quickly than we do. And then you can help her home.”

  Nora’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sure we’ll manage just—”

  “I’d be happy to help.” Owen grinned at Nora. “I’ll be your valiant knight.”

  Bitsy’s self-satisfied smile set Nora on edge.

  “I don’t need a knight,” she snapped. When Owen drew back and blinked slowly, regret poured through her, cold and heavy.

  Bitsy shook her head and pursed her lips, then turned away and picked at a patch of clover.

  Rose glanced at Nora, the dimple in her chin deepening, before she turned to Owen. “Were you at the party, Owen?”

  Owen tore his attention from Nora, offering her a reprieve from his judgment and censure, and smiled at Rose. “No. Delta Upsilon helped plan it, but I was sick that night. Did you have fun?”

  Nora had noticed he hadn’t been there. Even behind a mask, she would recognize him—he stood half a foot taller than the other men in her class. More than a foot taller than she herself.

  Rose nodded and blushed, turning a pretty shade that matched her name. “The girls and I decided to make our masks match our majors. I was an elephant, Bitsy a crane—isn’t that perfect for her? They’re so elegant—and Nora—”

  “Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” Owen turned toward Nora. “You were a Blattellidae.”

  Rose frowned in confusion. “No. She was a butterfly. Why would she be a . . .” She shot Nora a look of regret. “Oh.”

  Nora ground her teeth. She hated cockroaches, and Owen knew it. He’d laughed, along with everyone else in the room, her freshman year when she’d jumped onto her chair and tried to shake one from her skirt.

  Ignoring the pain slicing through her ankle, she shifted, turning her back on Owen.

  “Come on, Nora. I’m just teasing. I’m sure you made a lovely butterfly.” His fingers grazed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still upset about that. It happened over two years ago.”

  Nora twisted her head to look at him. “You humiliated me in front of the entire class. In front of Professor Comstock.”

  “I didn’t humiliate you. You were the one jumping around like a Mexican hat dancer. All because of an insect. You study insects and handle them every day.” He waggled his overly expressive eyebrows, and Nora itched to smack down the cowlick standing at attention over his crown. “What was I supposed to do? The entire class was laughing.”

  Nora clambered to her feet, gingerly testing her weight. Her ankle twinged, but she could stand. “I think I’m ready to return.”

  With a sigh, Owen stood and let Rose take his arm. He led her to the boat, then returned for Bitsy and helped her over the rocky ground. When they reached the water, he whispered something in Bitsy’s ear. She patted his arm and climbed in behind Rose, who’d managed to avoid rowing back to town. Owen pushed them into the water.

  Before he could return for her, Nora started toward the second boat with an awkward hop-step.

  “Let me help you,” he said, coming beside her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t be angry with me. I was only teasing you.”

  “I’m not angry.” She stepped away from him, yelping when her ankle gave out beneath her heavy step.

  He bit his lower lip, concern wrinkling his brow, and her heart softened. He hadn’t truly instigated the laughter that day.

  She sighed and took his proffered arm. “I’m the only female entomology major. You have no idea how hard I worked to prove myself in that class, and in one moment of absurdity, I destroyed what it took a year to build. No one took me seriously after that. There were complaints of hysteria-prone women in the sciences, and I had to start all over again, proving I deserved to be there. That I was a serious scientist.”

  “You are a serious scientist. I don’t think anyone could say otherwise. You’ve gotten top marks in every class.”

  “But I still have to work twice as hard for the respect you’re just given.”

  Owen was silent as he helped her into the boat, his hand tightening on her arm when she gasped
at the pain shooting across her ankle. He pushed the boat into deeper water, pebbles scraping the bottom as they slid into the inlet. Then he sat on the opposite bench, facing her. “I didn’t think about all of that. I won’t bring it up again.”

  She sent furtive glances at him as he guided their boat from shore.

  He caught her look and smiled, his straight teeth gleaming. “Forgive me?”

  She nodded. Rose thought Owen was charming. The entire female student body thought Owen was charming. Nora had never really seen it before, but for a moment just now, he seemed almost thoughtful. There was something rather . . . attractive about it. She shook the thought free and waved as they overtook Rose and Bitsy. Rose waved back with her typical enthusiasm, and Bitsy snapped at her to stop shaking the boat.

  “Do you want to come back to school and get your master’s?” Owen asked.

  Nora squinted up at the sky to avoid looking at him and his perfect teeth. “I can’t afford it.”

  As the sun scuttled behind a cloud, she shifted beneath her wet serge skirt. She wanted nothing more than to change into dry clothes and pull out her sketchbook. If she could hold on to the memory of the butterfly-covered tree, she could maybe do the scene justice. It had been glorious. Worth the tumble and embarrassment.

  “My father is a trustee.” Owen didn’t elaborate, and she wondered if that should mean something to her.

  “Yes?”

  He put some force into steering the boat around a muddy bank, and his muscles shifted beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. Nora had to agree with Rose that Owen was good-looking. What a shame such an attractive specimen housed someone with so little motivation, other than to best her in class. She knew he was naturally bright and rarely studied. He didn’t take life seriously, but what could one expect from someone raised in the lap of luxury who had never experienced trial?

  Owen rested the oars over his lap, and the boat meandered forward. “My father told me that one of the trustees has established a scholarship for graduating entomology students. To continue their education.”

  His words drew Nora’s attention. “A scholarship?”

  “Maybe it will be awarded to you, Percipient.” He stuck the oars back in the water and grinned. “Then again, maybe they’ll offer it to me.”

  She frowned. “Why would you need a scholarship? Your father owns the largest publishing house in New York.”

  He leaned into the oars and grunted. The boat lurched and then skimmed over the water toward the dock. “My father is convinced entomology is a waste of time. He wants me either to go to law school or to join him at the company. He’s already said he won’t pay for me to continue my education if I”—he deepened his voice and modulated his tone—“‘insist on pursuing this fool path.’” He smirked. “Those were his exact words. In my father’s opinion, law and publishing are the only two viable career options. I’m lucky he paid for these four years.”

  “Why did you choose entomology? Does someone in your family study it?”

  He shook his head. “No. My older brothers—I have four—all either followed my father into business or pursued law. One’s in politics. My father begrudgingly gave me the option of pursuing a science if I didn’t want to go into law. I think he was hoping I’d choose medicine.” His face took on the expression of a child dipping braids in ink. “He was utterly baffled when I told him I wanted to study entomology. But entomology is interesting enough. And it’s not as difficult as other sciences.”

  Nora considered Mr. Epps and his opinion on insect study. Owen’s father was immeasurably successful. He’d accomplished more in his lifetime than anyone she knew. He had to be a determined man. A hard worker. So unlike his son. What would it be like, being a man used to success and having a child who took everything for granted? A child who showed no more thought for his future than a honeybee did. Actually, a honeybee showed more consideration than Owen Epps. At least the bee worked hard and prepared.

  She primly folded her hands in her lap. “While I disagree with your father’s opinion on entomology, I think your pursuit of it may, indeed, be a fool’s path. You don’t seem to care one bit for the science, other than the fact that it isn’t terribly difficult—a sentiment I wholeheartedly challenge—and you derive joy from confounding your parent and his desire for your life.”

  The boat bounced against the dock, jarring Nora from her seat. She planted her weight against her feet, and pain shot through her injured ankle. A gasp whistled between her teeth. “You could have warned me we were close to docking.”

  “I was so caught up in your assessment of me, I didn’t even notice. And you were looking right at it, Nora. You must have been distracted too.” Owen grinned at her before balancing on steady legs until the rocking stopped. He looped a rope over the post, jumped onto the dock, and held out his hand, which she ignored.

  She stood on legs not quite as seaworthy as his, her ankle throbbing in rebellion. She managed to climb over the side of the boat, but she tripped over her wet skirt as she clambered onto the dock, landing on her knees.

  “Let me help—”

  Her hand shot up, silencing Owen, and she stood. Her face grew warm beneath his gaze, and the scratches on her cheek pulled at her tender skin as she clenched her jaw.

  A shout reached them from the water, and Rose and Bitsy’s boat came into view. Rose waved. “Hello!”

  Nora waggled her fingers at her friends, pulled her skirts away from her legs, and limped down the boardwalk toward the road.

  Owen jogged after her. “Let me help you home.”

  “I’ll wait for my friends. Don’t put yourself out.”

  “You’re probably half right about me anyway.”

  She halted. “I’m rarely only half right.” She squinted up at him. “Have you ever wondered why you spend so much time teasing me, Owen? It’s tiring.”

  He rolled his lips together, but she still saw the beginnings of a smile, and she couldn’t ignore his snort.

  “Why do you want to pursue your master’s anyway?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like you love entomology. Why not do as your father asked and join him in business?”

  Owen shoved his hands deep inside his pants pockets and bowed his head. Surprised by his sudden soberness, Nora felt her breath hitch. Had she hurt his feelings? Her stepfather often told her she spoke with too much boldness. Without enough thought and care.

  She blinked twice when Owen raised his head and his smile tipped to one side. “I’m not ready to work yet. Another two years of taking it easy, and then maybe I’ll let my father talk me into law school.”

  Inside her damp shoes, Nora curled her toes, and her nails dug into the soft skin of her palms. She kept her expression calm, however. Placid. He was teasing again. He had to be. Owen thought the scholarship was his because life came easy to him, but if she could obtain her master’s degree, she’d be able to secure a teaching position. Maybe even at Cornell, though they hadn’t yet hired a female professor.

  She could be the first. And then she’d be following her father’s path. As a teacher and as someone who published the best entomology journal in the country. That would almost make up for the loss Cornell and the scientific community sustained when he died.

  Owen bent toward her, and his caterpillar brows met over the center of his nose. Two golden Halysidota harrisii kissing each other. “What are you thinking in that busy mind of yours?”

  That your brows look like sycamore tussock moth caterpillars behaving a little too friendly for public viewing. “That you shouldn’t become too attached to the idea of that scholarship. I believe my grades are better than yours.”

  Owen straightened and held his thumb and pointer finger an inch apart. “Just a bit. Plus, the scholarship isn’t only based on grades. They’re looking for someone who completes a summer research project and gives a great lecture before the end of next year.” He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and rocked onto his heels. “I just happen to be an excellent public speaker.
And Professor Comstock has offered me the opportunity to work with a team in India. I’m considering it.”

  Nora reared back and stared at him. “But he offered me that project.”

  Owen shrugged. “And you said no.”

  “I might change my mind!” She’d have to reevaluate her hasty rejection if Owen was going. How could she compete with India?

  Rose and Bitsy guided their boat to the dock and tied it off. They were at Nora’s side in a moment, and she hooked her arms through theirs.

  “They’ll see me home,” she said. “I believe I can walk without your help, Owen.”

  He tipped his hat. “Ladies.” He smiled at Nora. “May the best man win.” Tucking his hands back into his pockets, he sauntered away, whistling a jaunty tune.

  “Or the best woman,” Nora called after him.

  Definitely the best woman.

  Chapter

  Four

  Nora ran a dustrag over the gleaming surface of her walnut insect cabinet. Alice did most of the cleaning, but Nora insisted on polishing the cabinet herself. Her father had ordered it from England when Nora was ten. Only a third of the thirty drawers had been filled when he died.

  Mother had been glad to send the cabinet to Nora’s room. With no interest in insects—she preferred they stay outside, dead and alive—she wanted it out of her parlor. Nora had filled another five drawers since then and imagined her father watching her from heaven with approval.

  She pulled out each drawer in turn and wiped the glass tops of the display cases, reciting the orders as the rag passed over the insects within. Lepidoptera, Odonata, Hemiptera, Coleoptera, Embioptera.

  Nora’s mother loved to look through thick books with pictures of animals from around the world. Elephants, camels, and kangaroos. But when compared to the insect world, mammals showed so little variation. So little color and uniqueness. Nora thought nothing could be as lovely as the wings of a Luna moth. Nothing as fascinating to watch as a simple garden spider spinning.