A thread of empathy twisted around Nora’s heart, and she hurried over. “What’s going on?”
Pallavi stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms. The child looked up at Nora with brown eyes so wide and deep that Nora felt unable to keep from sinking beneath the despair she recognized in them.
“I am Sita.” The girl spoke perfect English.
Owen crouched. “You seem to have made an enemy of our cook.”
Sita sent a scornful glance at Pallavi. “She is my aunt. My father’s sister.”
Nora’s eyes widened. “Why would your aunt treat you so abominably?”
Sita lifted a slim shoulder and scratched at her scalp.
Nora pursed her lips and looked at Pallavi, whose fingers reached for Sita’s bare arm. “Pallavi?”
“She needs to stay away!” Pallavi punctuated her words with a ringing clap. “She’s very bad. Stubborn.”
Sita’s chin trembled and her nose wrinkled, turning her expressive mouth into a sneer—a look of defiance Nora well knew covered a broken heart.
Nora pulled the girl to her side and rested her hand against Sita’s shoulder. “It sounds like we have much in common.”
Sita turned her face upward. “I only wanted to see the foreign lady scientist everyone speaks of, Akka.”
“That doesn’t sound like it deserves punishment, Pallavi.” Owen touched the small of Nora’s back. She shivered, which seemed an odd response to the heat pouring through her shirtwaist.
She forced herself to ignore the pressure of Owen’s touch and put her attention back on their cook just as Pallavi grabbed Sita’s arm, her bony fingers biting into the girl’s soft flesh.
“I won’t let her come. I said no. I will lose my work and have no money!”
Sita wriggled from Pallavi’s grip, and Nora imitated her mother, using as soothing a voice as possible. “Pallavi, you’re not going to lose your position because Sita wanted to meet me. I’m quite flattered by her—”
“What is that beastly child doing in my camp?” Mr. Alford’s strident voice cut through their conversation. Sita dropped her chin to her chest and began to spin the gold bracelets circling her wrist.
“I told her not to come.” Pallavi jerked her arms heavenward, palms out.
When Mr. Alford huffed and approached them, Owen stepped to the right, blocking him from reaching Sita. Nora stared at his broad back, his shoulders pulling at his shirt’s seams when he held up his arms. Why had she never noticed how good Owen was?
“What’s the problem with her visiting?” Owen asked. “She’s just a child.”
Mr. Alford tried to sidestep Owen, but Sita slithered around Nora’s legs, wrapped her arms around Nora’s midsection, and buried her head into the small of her back.
“That child managed to undo a week of work the last time she was here. Emptied all of our insect boxes and used their parts to create a portrait of one of their idols.”
“I didn’t!” Sita’s arms tightened, crushing Nora’s hips.
She extricated herself. “You didn’t destroy the insects?”
Sita’s eyes filled before she blinked away the tears, and her lips flattened. So stubborn. And rebellious. This child, this girl with the silver stud in her nose and the mischievous glint in her eyes, captivated Nora.
She bent and whispered in Sita’s ear, “Tell me what happened.”
The little girl’s jaw tightened and worked. Her eyes skittered between Owen, Pallavi, and Mr. Alford before landing on Nora, lighting up when they paused on her brooch. Sita touched it with a fingertip. “It’s beautiful.” She tipped her head. “It’s a cilvantu.” She squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her brow. “A cicada?”
A smile tugged at Nora’s lips. “It is. What a smart girl you are.”
Mr. Alford sighed. “Just get her out of camp as soon as you can.” As he walked past, he shook a long finger at Sita. “And don’t get into anything.”
Pallavi muttered beneath her breath and shoved at the always-burning fire with a stick. It sent sparks through the air, and Nora pulled Sita farther from the flames toward the grouping of camp chairs.
“Come and sit with me.” She shook her head at Owen when he started to follow them and shooed him away. Some things were better left to feminine pursuit.
“Look,” she said after they’d sat down. She removed her gold and jade brooch and nestled it in Sita’s palm.
Sita stroked the scarab-embossed stones studding the cicada.
“My father gave it to me,” Nora said. “It’s very special.”
Sita smiled and gave it back to Nora. “Thank you for letting me hold it. It’s beautiful. I’d like to draw it sometime.”
“Do you like art?”
Sita nodded. She glanced at the cabin Mr. Alford had disappeared into, and her shoulders slumped. “I did take apart the insects. They were so nice, and I saw what they could be if I put them all together.”
“Why did you say you didn’t?”
She leaned close, a wide grin flashing and swallowing her face for a moment. “I meant I didn’t make a picture of an idol.”
“What did you make a picture of?”
Sita’s eyes shuttered.
Nora could see her pulling away. Closing a door. “Please tell me. I will keep it secret, if you want.” She didn’t know why she wanted to know this little girl. Why did she want to understand her? Hear her story?
Sita nodded once, and her nostrils flared with a quick intake of breath. “They showed us a picture of him at school, but I wanted him to look like me, so I used the black wings for his hair and beard. It took three white and tan butterflies to give me enough tan for his skin, but I pieced it together. And there was one butterfly with soft brown wings that I shaped into his eyes.”
She didn’t look guilty for having destroyed so many specimens. Nora thought she looked . . . radiant.
“Who were you making?”
The girl peered around Nora, then put her mouth to Nora’s ear. “Jesus.”
Nora pulled back. “Why is that a secret?”
Sita slumped against her chair and hugged her legs to her chest, the embroidered edge of her tunic fanning out around her square feet. “I am dedicated to Yellamma.” She sat upright and grasped Nora’s hands, squeezing them until they tingled. “You cannot tell my aunt that I am a Christian. What would my father say? A servant of the goddess who has placed all of her trust in a foreign god.”
She released Nora’s hands and stroked them, her calloused fingertips rubbing small circles over Nora’s smooth knuckles. She bowed her head, and Nora felt an urge to hug the child. She ignored it and spoke logic instead.
“Why does that bother you? You don’t have to believe what your father tells you to.”
Sita raised her face, despair written in the premature lines between her softly arched brows. “Because after I bleed, I will be sent to the temple to work. I cannot serve Yellamma, and if I don’t, my father will turn me out.”
Chapter
Twelve
Nora sat hunched over the detested table that held her work. Elbow resting on the splintered wood, chin in her palm, she tapped her fingers against her cheek and watched as Mr. Alford prepared to leave camp without her yet again.
She’d hardly done anything but paint pretty watercolors and sketch diagrammed butterflies since arriving in India a month earlier. The monotony was broken only by Sita’s almost daily visits. After the men left in the morning, she’d come into camp, avoiding her aunt’s pinching fingers and glares, and watch Nora work. Then they would run into the shola, Nora’s rucksack bouncing against her hip.
Nora had never been so grateful for a friend, even though that friend was much younger than she was. She’d always appreciated time spent alone, but here, loneliness stalked her, peering from the fringe of forest and waiting until her defenses were down to overtake her at the strangest moments. Even when surrounded by the others, she couldn’t shake the sense of not belonging. Mr. Alford had made no secr
et of the fact that she didn’t.
But with Sita, Nora had found purpose that extended past the need to produce illustrations of other people’s discoveries. With Sita, Nora found relief from the loneliness and isolation.
Sita had told Nora the day before that she wouldn’t be visiting today, and Nora found herself missing the young girl. It had taken nearly half a year to develop the kind of friendship with Bitsy and Rose that most women seemed to take for granted, but when Sita stumbled into her life, she’d bypassed all of that and found Nora’s heart. The thought set Nora on edge, making her wonder if they’d become too close, too quickly. Good relationships took time, and this one seemed to have exploded into being.
Thankfully, Mr. Taylor and William were staying in camp today, distracting her from uncomfortable thoughts. Mr. Taylor because he wanted to dedicate a little time to his own project—studying the habits of leeches—and William because he’d been banished from Mr. Alford’s presence after accidently shattering a collection jar and losing a specimen.
Because of that mishap, Nora had nothing at all to keep her busy today. She’d taken some time before anyone awoke to write to her mother and Anna. She tidied up her tent, gathering the items Pallavi would wash later that day and folding her lightweight blanket into a perfect rectangle. She trimmed her nails with a small pair of scissors.
William had brought the table outside for no reason other than it had become his habit, and she now sat at it for the same reason. There were no boxes of butterflies or tray of paints on the table. Only a paper fan she’d bought the last time she’d been to town.
Pallavi slid a plate of papaya slices onto the table, and Nora sighed. She loved the fruit, but eating it without a fork was a messy process. “I’m going to get a napkin.”
When Nora returned to the table, a handkerchief tucked into her sleeve, the plate was gone. Her jaw stiffened when she saw Mr. Steed holding the empty plate, a sticky grin the only evidence of his crime.
“That was mine.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. She’d grown up never once wishing for a sibling, and now that she felt as though she lived with a troop of brothers, she knew she’d been right.
He shrugged. “You weren’t there.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to eat it.”
He burst into one of his interminable operettas, his eyes flashing with mischief that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the face of a child. Her fingers itched with the urge to slap him. Instead she yanked the fan from the table and flapped it at her face. The heat made her impatient and waspish.
“Enough, Jeffrey,” Mr. Alford interrupted, and for once Nora was glad for his shrill voice. “Let’s get going. Owen, you take the supply bag William usually carries.”
With that, the three men set off, Owen sending Nora a small smile that held no joy, only contrition and guilt.
Mr. Taylor dumped the remaining bit of his tea into the grass and handed the cup to Pallavi. He disappeared into his tent, and Nora watched the flap with interest. A moment later, he reappeared wearing cotton duck gaiters above his boots and carrying a stuffed rucksack over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Collecting leeches. There’s a swamp I believe will yield a bounty about half a mile from here.”
She sat up straight and worked to keep the eagerness from her voice. “Can I join you?”
“No.”
She slumped back down, and he patted her shoulder.
“I prefer to work alone, Miss Shipley, and I rarely get the chance to enjoy my own company. If you have no work, you might consider doing the same.”
“Mr. Alford said there are tigers in the area.”
“There are, but not this close to camp. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t go too far into the forest.” He checked his jacket pockets and the clasp on his rucksack, then jerked his chin at something behind Nora. “Why don’t you go with William there? He’s near useless most of the time, but he’ll make a good distraction if you’re confronted by a big cat.” With a small smile breaking his stoic expression, he left.
“I heard that,” William called after him. He turned to Nora and grinned. “Do you want to do some exploring? Don’t worry about Frederic’s warning about tigers. I’ve been here for months, and I’ve not seen evidence of even one. The scariest animal about this area is the gaur, but they tend to run the opposite direction if they hear you coming. Oh, and the snakes. There are elephants too, and they aren’t afraid of anything, so you have to steer clear of them. And—” He pasted a bright smile on his face. “You know what, let’s just go. Everything will be fine.”
Nora’s eyes had widened during this speech, and her stomach clenched. When she’d been left in Kodaikanal by herself and walked back to camp, she hadn’t known the forest had been full of deadly animals. She’d thrilled in her lonely exploration, happy in her oblivion. She had no wish to be trampled by an elephant or bitten by a snake. But she also had no wish to return home having made no discoveries or done anything of importance.
She eyed William’s lanky frame. He was tall but not broad. And likely not able to protect her from anything with teeth or claws. But she had no choice. She stiffened her spine and willed her heart and stomach to settle. She’d stay to the perimeter of the forest, near the wide grasslands that quilted the hilly landscape. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to rely on William’s questionable bravery and strength to stay alive.
They gathered their supplies, each of them stuffing a rucksack with kill jars, field examination kits, and tweezers. Nora pulled a water-filled canteen over her head, then secured her broad-brimmed hat with pins.
Laden down, she nodded at William, who wore an eager grin and his own hat, a monstrous one that promised to shade a small village. “Ready?”
Setting off, their feet crushing the overgrowth, Nora felt a loosening in her chest. The thick, moist air that had clotted her lungs released, and she drew a deep, purging breath. Sometimes she felt she could hardly breathe in India. She didn’t know if it was the weather or the stifling atmosphere Mr. Alford created, but here, stepping beneath the canopy where ferns as tall as trees closed them off from the open grassland and shaded them from the sun, her body relaxed.
“What are we looking for?” William asked, already covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
“Anything.”
“It’d be easier to find it if you narrowed your prospects. Lepidoptera? Hemiptera? Araneae? Odonata?” He slapped away an overhanging branch. “Or are you more interested in insect ecology? The relationship between insects and diseases? If that’s it, you’d be better served going to one of the bigger cities like Calcutta or Madras.”
Nora trailed him through the brush and brambles. She stared at his narrow shoulders swimming in an oversized linen jacket. “I didn’t realize you knew anything about entomology.”
He threw a glance at her. “Then why do you think I’m here?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Mr. Steed said you’re only here because your father knows people. I just assumed you wanted an adventure.”
“I was born and raised in India. This isn’t an adventure for me.” He held out his arm and welcomed her beside him when the path widened. “I want to go to school in England and work in the field. My mother hasn’t been able to release me, though. My brother died last year, and she’s holding the rest of us closely. My father thought this would be a good way to ease both of us into the separation.”
“And your parents are missionaries?”
“Yes. In Bangalore.” He pointed out a bee-eater fluffing its vibrant yellow and green feathers in a nearby tree. “I don’t think the birds in England come in those colors.”
“From what I’ve heard, the only thing in England that isn’t gray are the ladies’ gowns.” She shrugged. “Those are black.”
He laughed, and they pushed forward until the trees thinned, the ground grew steep, and their breathing labored, and they crossed into open grassland
. Ahead of them, something brown flashed, and a powerfully built deer galloped toward the woods.
“It’s really beautiful here. There’s so much diversity in the topography, flora, and fauna. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many species of insects in one place.” Nora looked out over the tapestry of stitched-together land. Sholas and grasses and hills and, in the distance, the Western Ghats disappearing beneath a mantle of mist.
“You should see the rest of India. Kodaikanal is beautiful, but it’s not really representative of India. You’ll find more British and Americans here than Indians, and the culture is decidedly European. If you’re able, you should travel to Kerala and see the backwaters, or Jodhpur, the blue city, or Hampi, which is littered with ancient temples. India is an amazing country. It would be a shame to only see this little corner of it.”
Nora shook her head and smiled at the idea. “No. I’m just here for this one trip. Traveling isn’t really for me.”
“Really?” He cocked his head. “You seem exactly the type to enjoy traveling.”
She laughed. “Everyone keeps saying that. I’m beginning to think I don’t know myself as well as I thought I did.”
Something buzzed past her ear, and her hand shot toward it. The large beetle escaped her grasp, bumbling toward the forest line just ahead. She lifted her skirts and tore after it, her heart beating to the tempo of discovery.
William’s steps pounded after her.
Nora lost sight of the insect but continued running, hiking her skirts even higher and exulting in the freedom. In cutting through the wet air and sucking in deep breaths. In knowing nothing would stop her in this quest—as futile as it was.
The beetle was long gone. And still she ran.
When she reached the forest, sliding over damp earth and decomposing leaves, she slowed to a walk. William kept pace with her, pinching his side and grinning in his enthusiastic way. “What was the hurry?”
A Mosaic of Wings Page 13
