A Mosaic of Wings

by Kimberly Duffy

  Rose glanced down at her with a worried expression. “You don’t know that. Don’t borrow trouble.”

  Bitsy grabbed Nora’s arm and hauled her up. “You need to find out what happened.”

  Nora craned her neck to see Owen shaking President White’s hand, then the donors’. He swiveled his head, eyes raking the crowd, then stepped out of the circle, traced Lucius’s steps, and pushed his way through the throng.

  Bitsy gave Nora a gentle shove. “Go figure this out.”

  Nora took off after him. When she rounded the sand-colored brick walls of the hall, she saw Owen jogging to catch up with Lucius. They met beneath the clock tower, and their conversation was full of gesturing and interruption.

  Nora started forward, but then Lucius laughed, and Nora halted and smashed her teeth together so hard, pain shot through her cheeks. She couldn’t see Owen’s face because he stood with his back to her, but she saw from his wide stance and the way he rocked back on his heels that he felt comfortable with Lucius.

  Her throat closed, and she gasped, her breath coming in quick, shallow puffs. He couldn’t betray her like this. Her heart, which she’d kept protected behind a curtain of study and aloofness until Owen freed it, contracted, and she thought it might shatter into a million pieces.

  And she knew, if Owen asked her again what was more important, him or the journal, she’d answer in a completely different way.

  Nora walked away, her heels clicking against the stone pavers. Absorbed in her thoughts and heartbreak, she didn’t notice Anna until her mentor’s hand shot out and grasped Nora’s wrist.

  “You’re in a hurry,” Anna said with a laugh. Happy lines wrinkled the corners of her eyes, and her cheeks rounded. She tugged Nora down beside her on an iron bench.

  Nora sighed. “Everything I do ends in disaster.” She squinted up at the sky, tracking the clouds’ progress and seeing in them fanciful insects.

  “Are you speaking about what happened in India?”

  Nora looked at her and drew her lower lip between her teeth.

  Anna smiled. “There’s very little Mr. Comstock keeps from me.”

  “What happened in India, what happened with my father, what happened at the dinner party, what happened”—Nora’s voice cracked—“with Owen.”

  Anna didn’t question her. She didn’t pry. She answered in her matter-of-fact way, cutting right to the core of the issue. “Sometimes the consequence is entirely too harsh for the action. In your case”—she winked at Nora—“I’d say most of the time.”

  Nora groaned. She was cursed.

  “I think you made the right decision regarding your Indian friend. An unpopular choice, for sure, but really, it was the only one you could have made. You knew she was worth the consequence, and in the end, knowing that child is safe makes almost anything worth it.”

  Nora smiled. “She was worth it. I love her like a sister.”

  Anna touched Nora’s arm, and her happy wrinkles disappeared. “And I love you like a sister, so I’m going to tell you something that will hurt you. But I want you to be prepared.”

  Nora didn’t think anything could be worse than knowing the man she loved had colluded with the man she disliked most in the world to keep her from realizing her dreams, but she still considered bolting. Hiding in the cavern of Library Hall or beneath a nearby shrub. She didn’t want to hear more bad news.

  “There has been talk about Lucius. About his financial situation.”

  Nora lifted a shoulder. “I know about that. He’s already sold my jewelry. He said he’s had trouble paying bills since he lost his job.”

  Anna shook her head, and a sad smile crept across her lips. “It’s more than that. He’s been seen gambling. A lot. It’s the reason Cornell fired him. He has significant debts, and he’s borrowed money from nearly every employee of the university.”

  Nora stared at her. “My father left my mother comfortably provided for.”

  “It’s gone, Nora. All of it. He’s mortgaged the house.”

  Nora pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. He couldn’t have. What would they do?

  Footsteps approached. “Nora, I have some dreadful news,” Professor Comstock said.

  Nora removed her hands and blinked up at him. “What, more?” A bitter laugh fringed her question.

  He carefully touched her arm, as though she might break. “Somehow, Lucius has heard enough about what happened in India that he was able to convince the board you are unfit for the scholarship. They’ve determined they don’t want a rabble-rouser benefiting from their largesse.”

  “I figured as much.” Nora choked on the bile spilling into her mouth. She swallowed it, and it burned a path down her throat and into her chest.

  Everything was gone.

  They had nothing. She had nothing. No hope for continuing her education. No job prospects. No collection to remind her of her father. No new exotic butterfly to propel her to prominence. No Owen to love her.

  Nothing.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  Nora stumbled over a branch covered in decaying leaves. She kicked it out of the path and forged ahead toward the only place she knew that would offer solitude and comfort.

  Cascadilla Falls in autumn smelled of age and wisdom. The water, rushing over ancient sandstone, smoothed everything in its path. Nora hoped it would smooth away her worries.

  She’d held out hope that the board would reconsider their decision to cut her from the line of students vying for the scholarship, but the next lecture series came and went, and Nora sat in the chair beside her bedroom window, twisting the fringed edge of a pillow between her fingers.

  Today, when she’d sat down to toast and boiled eggs for breakfast, she saw Lucius with his nose buried in the morning paper. Emblazoned across the front page was a headline that declared Owen had been awarded the scholarship.

  She would have been thrilled for him had it not meant the end of her own dreams. Had he not betrayed her to get it.

  A breeze carrying the scent of winter rustled the remaining leaves clinging to the trees. She wrapped her arms around herself. Only wanting to get away from the dining room where she had to read about Owen’s success and witness Lucius’s gloating, she’d forgotten her shawl.

  Instead of veering left toward the creek bank, feet from where the water plunged down a giant staircase of stones, Nora hiked up the overgrown incline. She reached the top of the falls, huffing and pinching the stitch in her side.

  She stood next to the tree. Its limbs still hung over the falls, but its branches were no longer spindly. Now they looked as though they could hold the weight of a man. Its heavy trunk sank into the ground, a stalwart reminder of Nora’s poor choices.

  When she ran her hand over its brittle bark, chunks fell into her hand, revealing tunnels and holes in the wood. She flicked at some sawdust-like frass, and a few brittle pupal skins tumbled to the ground.

  It seemed a borer would be the end of the tree that had been the end of her father.

  She leaned her forehead against the trunk and wished for a different outcome. If only I had obeyed. If only he hadn’t followed. If only, if only, if only.

  Nora pushed herself away from the tree, knowing the falls would bring her no peace today. Her mind and heart were too bruised and wretched to receive any balm. Tripping her way down the incline, she raised her arms above her head and let a scream tear from her throat. It bounced around the gorge before being drowned by the pounding water. Again and again, she released all her pent-up frustration and anger and brokenness in short, forceful shouts. Her feet propelled her down, and by the time she reached the bottom, she had nothing left to offer the sky, trees, and water. She’d sacrificed her dignity and composure, finding blessed release in letting go.

  The moment she stepped onto the narrow path leading back to Cornell, though, she found herself wound tight again.

  “I thought you’d be here,” Owen said, standing at the foot of the path. Dark
circles made crescent moons beneath his eyes, and she thought he looked tired. Guilt, maybe?

  She pulled a brittle leaf from the sloppy knot she’d wound her hair into that morning. It had rained the night before, and the air was heavy with residual moisture, making the curls around her face frizz. Nora imagined she looked a fright.

  But not quite as bad as Owen.

  “Are you going to say anything?” he asked.

  Nora quirked her brows, the only movement she allowed to break her stoicism. Her chest tightened, forcing her heart into a canter that sent blood rushing to all parts of her body. But Owen didn’t have to know that beneath her flat expression and nonchalance, everything squirmed in turmoil.

  “I shouldn’t have put you in the position of choosing between me and the journal,” Owen said. “I haven’t declared myself to you, and it wasn’t fair. But, in my defense, I’d hoped we’d reached a point in our relationship where you valued me over a magazine.”

  “Is that why you colluded with my stepfather to convince the board to exclude me from the scholarship?”

  Owen shook his head, and a deep wrinkle appeared between his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Someone told Lucius what happened in India, and he told President White. Only four people here knew about it. You, me, Professor Comstock, and Anna. I hadn’t even told Bitsy and Rose. Because of my indiscretions, the board decided I was no longer a candidate.”

  “Why would I speak to Lucius about it?”

  Nora stared at him.

  “Okay. I can see why you’d think that. But I didn’t. I have no idea who told him.”

  He seemed so earnest, and she knew he valued honesty. But if he hadn’t, who? “I saw you follow him after your lecture. You spoke with him.”

  “I did talk with him, but it wasn’t about India or the scholarship.” Owen dropped his head and toed the dirt path, worn thin by years of trampling undergrads. “I only asked how you were. Told him to tell you hello. He asked if I was going to release him from the burden of managing you. I said you didn’t need managing. Then he laughed and walked away.”

  Her face burned, and she was a panicked student batting away roaches all over again. Exposed. Vulnerable. “You said nothing at all to Lucius—to anyone—about what happened?”

  “Lucius did tell the board, and they questioned me.” His shoulders drooped, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t lie, Nora. I confirmed the story.”

  Her hope flashed like a lampyrid, one moment bright and the next snuffed out. She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes to the ground. He had large feet, and they almost touched the hem of her gown. She stepped back, her skirts swishing, then settling a hairsbreadth farther away. So much more than that, really.

  The space wasn’t enough to keep him from grasping her shoulders. She jerked her head up, surprised by his pained stare.

  “What choice did I have? Professor Comstock himself answered affirmatively. Would you hold me to a different standard than him?”

  She pulled away, surprised when the urge to pound against his chest lifted her arms. She clenched her fists and forced them down by her sides. What had loving Owen done to her? Her composure was gone, and her flaring temper made her want to cause him pain. It was too much.

  “I shouldn’t have expected anything at all from you.” She tried to step past him, but he blocked her way.

  “That’s unfair. You were told, repeatedly, to stay out of cultural matters. You didn’t listen. Just did what you wanted, the consequences be—”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself had I ignored Sita’s plight. What choice did I have?”

  “You’re allowed to make that argument, but I’m not? When forced to choose between two difficult options, you chose the moral one. So did I!”

  “How is divulging a story you knew would disqualify me from the scholarship the moral choice?” She stomped her foot, regretting her childishness the moment she did so. Taking a deep breath, Nora smoothed her fingers over her hair, pushing the errant curls around her temple beneath her hat. She pressed her lips together and silently counted to five. Hold it together. Nothing is worth behaving unhinged. “I know the scholarship was your way to escape your father’s plans for you. To get out of having to go to law school.” Her throat thickened with tears. “But you have so many choices open to you, and it was my only one. The only thing standing between me and saving my father’s legacy was that scholarship.”

  “You can do anything you want, Nora. It’s just a magazine, after all.”

  The tightness around her eyes sent sharp pain shooting through her temples. She sighed. “There are other options when you’re an educated man with family connections. It’s not so hard for you to do what you want. But what about me? I’m a woman trying to forge a path through a man’s world. I’m not wanted, Owen. Lucius would have given me the journal if I’d gotten that scholarship. With a master’s degree, I could have taught like my father. I could have made a difference. As it is, I doubt I’ll be able to find a position in science. Be able to support myself.”

  Owen took her by the waist and pulled her toward him. “Why do you have to support yourself? Let me do so.” The tips of his ears turned red. “Marry me, Nora. I can take care of you.”

  She took a few steps away from him on shaky legs and stretched out her arm, hand up, when he attempted to follow her.

  “Let me help you.” His voice cracked.

  Nora shook her head. “How can I trust that you’ll help me when you believe your dreams are more important than mine?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Not much about life is.”

  Nora sat on the French walnut chair in the parlor, a book on American spiders open on her lap, and watched the flames in the fireplace dance up the chimney. She tried to return her attention to the illustration of Lactrodectus geometricus, but her eyes wandered.

  Lucius sat on the nearby settee, swirling amber cognac in a snifter. Her mother had left for bed only minutes earlier, unable to pry from Nora the reason for her discontent.

  Nora uncrossed her feet and shut her book. Before she stood, though, Lucius cleared his throat.

  He sipped from his glass, then settled against the back of the settee, crossing one leg over a knee. “You’ve never liked me.”

  It wasn’t phrased as a question because there had never been any question. Nora hadn’t liked Lucius since the day he stopped by their house when she was heading out the door with her father to hunt beetles. He’d asked her father why he wasted time teaching a girl the things he taught men at the university. She had been eight, and she’d known then, just as she knew now, that Lucius didn’t compare favorably to Alexander Shipley.

  She looked at the fire, holding her hands toward it. The almost-winter wind shook the windowpanes, and a chill seeped into the room despite the leaping flames.

  “You don’t have to answer, but I know it’s true.” There was no sadness in Lucius’s voice. No desire to be accepted or loved.

  “You are nothing like my father.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Not many men are.” He shifted his bulk and sighed. “Your father was the best of men, and life was good to him.”

  Nora turned disbelieving eyes toward him. “He died too young.”

  “But until then, his life was good. He had the heart of your mother, a promising career, and the devotion of a child. It seems unfair that one person should receive so much.”

  The floorboards creaked above them as her mother readied for bed, and Nora wondered, for the first time, if she ever compared her second husband to her first. “My father worked hard and was honest. He gave to people—his time, education, and friendship. Life didn’t just hand him respect and love. He earned it.”

  Lucius studied her as he ran his thumb over the rim of his glass. Nora didn’t turn from him, knowing he was testing her mettle. Finally, his lips turned up in a crooked smile. “I’ve always been weak. Your mother
could have had another man—a decent one. I’m not sure why she chose me.”

  Nora knew she’d never have a loving relationship with her stepfather. Most of the time she managed to be polite, if distant, and that was enough. But tonight, her heart fractured and her spirit bleeding, she thought she might as well submit to the recklessness that so often tore from her mouth. “Probably because you took advantage of her grief while other men allowed her time to mourn.”

  Lucius didn’t look surprised or angry. In fact, no emotion at all colored his expression. “You may be right. I’ve never thought I was worthy of her, but I have tried to make her happy. My only goal has been to shield her from anything that might weaken or hurt her. Your mother isn’t like you, Nora. She is fragile and easily overwhelmed.”

  Nora glanced away, unsure what to do with his almost-compliment.

  The glass clinked as Lucius set it on the table beside him, and he clasped his hands together, resting them against his stomach. “You know, I loved your mother long before your father met her. I introduced them, in fact.”

  Nora frowned. She hadn’t known that. And something about it didn’t sit right with her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked into the fire.

  “I told him,” Lucius said, “that I had every intention of pursuing her. But she fell in love with your father instead.” He laughed without humor. Everything he did seemed backward somehow. His laugh, his love, his goals. It was as though he fought through life, not realizing no one else joined in his battle.

  A jolt of recognition shot through her middle. Maybe she and Lucius had something in common, after all.

  Nora stood. “It seems as though, in the end, you got what you wanted.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Ice doused her. She rubbed her throat, needing to force open the airways that had closed so suddenly. “What?”