On Shadowed Wings (An Ash Grove Short Story) (3 page)

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 good 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.”

“You know boarding students at Ash Grove
can’t have cars, Mom. It’s no problem for me to drive myself.”

Her mother gave Gail’s hair another spritz of
hairspray and stood back to gauge the effect. “It just doesn’t seem
very gentlemanly of him to make you arrange for your own ride,” she
said. Gail’s librarian mother was a petite blonde, and at the best
of times Gail felt like she loomed over her. In her high-heeled
evening shoes she felt more than ever like a hulking monster next
to her dainty mother.

But she’d done all she could reasonably be
expected to do with what she had to work with. She made one last
dab with the mascara wand and turned resolutely away from the
mirror. “What do you think? Do I look okay?”

Her mother beamed. “You look beautiful, hon.
Let’s get your dad to take some pictures of you before you
leave.”

Her father had to ooh and aah over her too,
so it was already well after eight by the time Gail set out for Ash
Grove. Her dad had offered the use of his car, but Gail didn’t see
any reason not to take her own. Fortunately her mother had
lacquered her hair so securely that the wind through the half-open
window didn’t disarrange it in the slightest.

She parked in the visitors’ lot and walked
over to the gym, where the thud of bass was emerging from. The Ash
Grove campus was one of the most picturesque places Gail knew of.
After a short bridge that crossed the river, the road extended
through gentle meadows up to a cluster of old-fashioned stone
buildings that looked like an English village. Behind them rose a
wooded ridge, its trees lush in new green, and elsewhere the view
was framed by the gentle slopes of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Tonight they were the color of slate against the yellow-coral sky,
and the long meadow grasses stirred under the breeze with a
peaceful sound. There was still plenty of light in the sky, and the
spring air was soft against her bare arms and neck.

Her steps slowed. It was too lovely an
evening to spend indoors, dance or no dance. It looked like it
would be a clear night with a nearly full moon, a perfect night for
moth watching. She thought suddenly of sitting in a moonlit
clearing with Jim, listening to him talk in that melted-chocolate
voice about the life cycle of butterflies—

“There you are.” Darryl was standing outside
the gym waiting for her, hands in his pants pockets. He wore his
tuxedo as casually as if it were denim, which somehow irritated
her. Maybe because all the boning in her bodice wouldn’t let her
stand anything but perfectly straight. “You look fantastic,” he
said. “See? All it takes is a little effort. That dress is awesome
on you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She knew Darryl
preferred distinctive clothes that were different from what
everyone else was wearing, and she’d been thrilled to find the
vintage ink-blue dress, which had a full skirt made of layers of
tulle. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret the strapless style: she
didn’t have a whole lot of chest for it to hold onto, and she’d
already caught herself tugging it back into place more than
once.

“Who did your hair?” he added, continuing to
look her over. “It’s a really sexy look for you.”

“Mom’ll take that as a compliment.” It was
awkward being the subject of conversation, and she hurried to steer
it somewhere else. “You look very handsome,” she told him. “Like
Cary Grant.”

He grinned. “Maybe I should get my chin done,
have a divot like his installed. That might be just what I need to
stand out in Hollywood.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.
You don’t need plastic surgery.” Every time he criticized his own
looks, she wondered uneasily what he thought of hers. She didn’t
have any glaring faults, but she was definitely no Angelina
Jolie.

“You know what a competitive business it is,”
he said, steering her indoors with a hand at the small of her back.
“I can’t afford to rule out anything that might help me get
ahead.”

It was a conversation they’d had plenty of
times before. “Let’s not talk about it tonight, okay? Tonight is
for fun, not work.”

But Darryl wasn’t one to be easily derailed
when he wanted to get to the bottom of something. “So have you made
a decision about UCLA?” he asked during the first slow song, when
the music was quiet enough for them to talk.