by Mary Alice
“Abuela used to just smile at me in that wise-woman way she had and tell me kindness was like the sun and the rain. If you were miserly with it, your world would wither up. But the more you gave, the more you reaped. Well, at her funeral, I was surprised when a number of older boys—young men—came up to me to tell me those summers with La Dama Mariposa, that’s what they called her, kept them from the streets.” She paused, holding back a rush of emotion that again threatened tears. “Hearing those words were a revelation. They made me feel both contrite and grateful for all the years I had with Abuela.” Her lips eased into a soft smile.
“So, I think that Mrs. Penfold is a lot like my grandmother. She’s full of the sun and the rain. One look at her garden tells me all I ever need to know about her.”
Margaret tightened her robe in silence and looked pensively out the window.
Luz gathered her napkin and dishes and rose to put them on the counter. “I guess I’d better gather my things and check on Ofelia. Breakfast was great. You were kind to take such good care of me. Thanks.”
“So, where do you go from here?”
“Well,” Luz said, leaning back against the counter, “after I see Ofelia, I’m off to San Antonio. And then, if all goes well, I’m continuing on to Mexico.”
“Mexico?” Margaret said, surprised. “That’s a long drive. Are you going to visit family?”
“Yes. My aunt lives in San Antonio. I’m hoping she’ll come along to see the rest of the family in Michoacán. It’s a long story, but there’s a tradition in my family to greet the monarchs when they return to the mountains in the fall, around the Day of the Dead. My grandmother died recently, you see, so I want to be there when the monarchs arrive.”
Margaret straightened and leaned forward with interest. “You’re going to Michoacán?” she asked. “To see the sanctuaries?”
Luz was surprised she knew about the sanctuaries. “That’s the plan.”
Margaret seemed at a loss for words. “You’re talking about the monarch sanctuaries? Up in the mountains?” When Luz nodded, Margaret’s eyes danced with excitement and she set her elbows on the table, cupping her chin.
“I’ve read about them. And seen videos on television. I’m always so amazed that those fragile creatures can make such an amazing journey. Miraculous, really. I think I still have the National Geographic magazine my parents got back in the seventies when they first discovered the sanctuaries. It was a huge find; everybody was talking about it. Until then, nobody knew where the butterflies went.”
“Except the villagers, of course,” Luz added wryly.
“Well, yes. Of course. But not the scientific community,” Margaret replied, and it was clear from her tone that in her opinion, this was the group that mattered. “My parents collected moths and butterflies. They had an impressive variety of species. For them, the discovery of the monarch sanctuaries in Michoacán was as exciting as Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon. They used to talk about all of us going to the sanctuaries one day. They even bought tents and sleeping bags and planned out the trip. It was our dream. My father is a typical German—he loves detail and outlined our adventure to the minutiae, even the clothes and equipment we’d need to pack. He especially loved the tiny flashlights, the compass, and, oh yes”—she chuckled softly—“the Swiss Army knives. He even designed our observation notebooks.” She smiled at the memory.
Luz smiled, thinking to herself, like father like daughter.
“But we never made it.”
Luz caught a flicker of regret in Margaret’s eyes. “You still can go,” she said.
“What? Oh, no. Dad’s not well. He has a heart condition and would never make it to those high elevations. And of course, Mom . . .” She pinched her lips. Margaret picked up the teacup again. “No, we missed our chance,” she said. Then she sighed and her face softened. “But imagine, seeing millions and millions of butterflies.” She sipped her tea slowly, her eyes lost in thought. “You’re lucky to be going.”
“Hardly luck,” Luz said. “I missed my chance to go with Abuela, too. I’ve had a lot of time to think in the car and one of the questions I’ve been preoccupied with is, How many people lose opportunities to spend time with loved ones before it is too late? Abuela and I talked about this trip for as long as I can remember. But we kept putting it off and putting it off. There was never enough time or money. And now . . .” She shrugged, feeling the weight of remorse in her shoulders. “Anyway, I’m going now. It might not be the way Abuela had planned the trip, but at least we’re making it together.”
Margaret’s face turned wistful. “My mother used to tell me that we make our own luck.” She set down her cup, rose, and wrapped her arms around Luz in a heartfelt hug. “I admire your courage,” she told her.
Luz was surprised by the sincerity of the impulsive gesture. She felt Margaret’s slender arms around her and hugged her back, feeling even more strongly that sisterly bond.
The moment was broken by the phone ringing. They both pulled back and looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking at the same time that it was news about Ofelia. Margaret dashed for the phone on the kitchen counter. Luz was right behind her.
“It’s Mrs. Penfold,” she mouthed, waving Luz closer. Holding the phone from her ear, she punched the speakerphone key. A second later, Mrs. Penfold’s voice could be heard, ringing with excitement.
“Oh, my dears!” she exclaimed. “Tell Luz to come quick. Ofelia is having the baby!”
“Oh, Ofelia, she’s beautiful. A perfect, pretty-in-pink darling!” Luz said, looking at the sweet innocence of the baby.
The hospital’s birthing room was decorated in floral chintz, like a big, cozy bedroom. Ofelia lay in bed propped up against pillows, sipping ice water. She looked more herself this morning. Someone had given her a new pink cotton robe and she’d applied pink lipstick that made her smile a vision of glossy joy. Her happiness was so evident that it overshadowed the dark bruise around her eye.
“She is, isn’t she?” Ofelia replied with pride. “Ay, Luz,” she said dramatically. “I was so worried when they told me she was coming. I kept saying, ‘No! It’s too soon.’ I was so afraid for her. But look at her! Here she is and the doctor—who’s a saint, I tell you—she says she was only like two weeks early and that wasn’t too much.”
Luz tore her gaze from the baby to look at Ofelia. “But I thought you weren’t due for another month!”
Ofelia shrugged with a smirk. “Yeah, well, my math was never too good.”
Luz rolled her eyes and they both laughed at the absurdity of that statement. It felt good to laugh in a safe place with the baby born and healthy. “Hey, it doesn’t matter,” she replied. “We made it. Maybe you didn’t get to Mexico, but this might be as far as you were meant to go. Karma and all that.” She looked at the pink perfection of the infant’s face. Then she walked to Ofelia and placed the swaddled baby in her arms. “I’d say you made it straight to heaven.”
Ofelia took the baby in her arms hungrily. “Luz, thank you,” she said in a softer voice. “I wouldn’t be here, in this safe place, without you. All I ever wanted was a family. That’s why I tried so hard to make it work with Angel. But there was nothing there. I was scared and trapped. You saved me, you know that? The first time I saw you I knew you were special. It must’ve been those crazy blue eyes of yours.”
Luz chuckled but the words fell sweet on her ears. “You saved yourself.”
“No, but I’ll tell you this!” she said with typical Ofelia bravado. “I found my strength again when I laid eyes on my daughter. She’s everything to me. I love her so much I want to eat her up. Now I know I have all I ever wanted. She is my family.” Her dark eyes narrowed and she said in almost a snarl, “And I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt her.”
Luz felt a tremor at hearing the ferociousness of a mother’s love. “Abuela used to say that goddesses are everywhere. Looking at you, I see she was right.”
Ofelia lowered her head to place a kiss o
n her infant’s forehead. “All mothers are goddesses.”
“She used to tell me a story about the goddess who became the mother of all things beautiful.”
“Tell me that one,” Ofelia said with a yawn, settling back against the pillows. The excitement of the morning was at war with her physical exhaustion. She shifted her weight to rest her arm on a pillow and cradled her baby. “Tell us both a story.”
Luz relished the thought of taking on Abuela’s role of storyteller. She sat in the comfortable armchair beside Ofelia’s bed, remembering how she used to listen to Abuela’s melodic voice. She could paint a scene so vividly that the story would come alive in Luz’s imagination. And there were so many stories.
Luz began her favorite, the tale of the two goddesses who sacrificed themselves for mankind. As she told of how Little Nana courageously jumped into the fire, she felt akin to the meek goddess who in the end exalted in glory for bringing light to the world. And when she embellished the details of Xochiquetzal’s selfless decision to be the mother of all things to come, she felt her usual longing for her own mother, especially as she watched Ofelia cradle her infant daughter. Did my mother gaze at me in that way? Luz wondered.
When she was finished, she looked up. Ofelia’s full mouth was turned down in a frown of confusion.
“Didn’t you like it?” Luz asked.
“No, I love that story. It’s one of my favorites, too,” Ofelia replied. Then she shook her head. “But you got one part wrong. It wasn’t Xochiquetzal who brought the flowers and butterflies to earth. It was Quetzalpapalotl.”
Luz’s cheeks flushed with indignation. “Abuela told me this story a million times.”
Ofelia shook her head. “We learned all this Aztec culture stuff in school back in Mexico. Mexicans are really into insects, especially butterflies and moths. I get a lot of them mixed up but I remember her because she was kind of kinky. Xochiquetzal is the goddess of beauty and pleasure. She followed the warriors to the battlefields and made love to them at the moment of death—with a butterfly in her mouth. I mean, really. You don’t forget something like that, right? It had something to do with her giving them courage and how, if they died, they’d go to her secret garden high in the mountains in the afterlife.
“Quetzalpapalotl is the god of butterflies. In fact, that’s even the name the Aztecs gave the monarch butterflies. He has this bird-butterfly temple in Teotihuacán that I went to when I was a kid. It’s really beautiful. You should go there when you’re in Mexico.”
Luz sat back in her chair and shook her head in confusion.
The baby made soft grunting noises that immediately riveted Ofelia’s attention. Ofelia removed her from her swaddling, checked her diaper, then, finding it dry, clumsily tried to swaddle the baby again. After much mumbling and fumbling, Ofelia just wrapped up the baby any way she could and held her close. When she settled, Ofelia puffed a hair out of her face. She looked over at Luz and offered a mollifying grin.
“Hey, Luz, it’s like a fairy tale, eh? Everyone changes a story a little for her own child. Maybe Abuela wanted you to have butterflies and goddesses. I like that better myself.” She looked at her baby. “Don’t you, mi amor?” Ofelia bent to kiss her baby’s forehead. Then she laughed a tired laugh. “Besides, who can ever get those Aztec gods’ names right? There’s so many of them—fire, rain, flowers, sun, butterflies—Xochi this and Quetzal that.”
Luz didn’t reply. It was impossible to even consider that Abuela got her story wrong or that she would have deliberately changed it. But Ofelia seemed so sure.
The door opened and Margaret poked her head in. Her blond hair fell like water. She looked anxiously at Ofelia, then Luz. “Sorry to bother you. The nurse said we only have a few minutes before we have to leave. I was wondering, hoping rather . . . Can I see the baby?”
Luz felt a sudden chill in the room and glanced at Ofelia. It looked as if a cloud had darkened her brow. “Margaret let me stay with her last night,” Luz told Ofelia, letting her know that things had changed.
“Oh yeah? That’s nice. Uh, sure, come on in,” Ofelia said, but her tone remained wary.
Margaret approached with hesitation, her gaze fixed on the baby. “She’s so little,” she said in an awestruck voice. “And so beautiful.”
Ofelia’s guard lowered and she smiled despite herself, turning her gaze to her daughter. “Six and a half pounds,” she said proudly. She sized Margaret up, then reluctantly offered, “Want to hold her?”
Margaret was stunned by the offer and back-stepped. “Me? I’ve never held a baby before. Not one so little.”
“You’re kidding, right? Well, it’s easy. Put your arms out,” Ofelia instructed, waving her over.
Margaret came closer, walking stiffly.
“Take it easy. She won’t bite. She doesn’t have any teeth!” Ofelia gently laid the baby in Margaret’s outstretched arms. “Now support her head. Careful! That’s right.”
Margaret stood in icy composure, holding the baby stiffly. Luz shot Ofelia a look that asked, Are you sure it’s safe?
Ofelia only shrugged with a knowing smile, then returned her sharp gaze to her child. “Do you want to sit down?”
“No,” Margaret choked out. “I’ll just stand.”
Margaret stared quietly at the baby’s face. As the seconds ticked, Luz watched in amazement as she witnessed a small crack in Margaret’s brittle composure. It was what she imagined a crack in an Arctic glacier must look like, a deep fissure, ice streaming as it thawed. Suddenly, Margaret’s eyes welled with tears.
Ofelia chuckled sweetly. “Yeah, she has that effect on everyone.”
Luz didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, embarrassed to witness such a personal moment.
Margaret sniffed and gently returned the baby to Ofelia’s arms. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then, embarrassed by her runaway emotions, she mumbled her good-bye, turned, and hurried from the room.
Mrs. Penfold came in as Margaret left. Her face appeared troubled as it followed Margaret’s hasty exodus.
Ofelia’s face flooded with joy at seeing her. “Mrs. P! She’s had her first feeding!” Ofelia exclaimed.
“Really?” All worry fled from Mrs. Penfold’s face as she rushed to Ofelia’s side. She lifted the baby into her arms and made soft clucking noises, enraptured.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Luz asked Ofelia. “Will you stay here in Kansas or head south to your aunt in Florida?”
Ofelia’s face froze in indecision and she swung her head to look at Mrs. Penfold.
“Oh, she’ll stay here for a while,” Mrs. Penfold spoke up. “We’ll take good care of her and this sweetums, won’t we?” Her eyes danced as she gazed at the baby. “Oh, yes we will!”
Luz watched Mrs. Penfold hover over the baby like a mother hen and knew that Ofelia would be taken care of. She could leave. It was a bittersweet moment and she rose reluctantly from her chair. “I better go,” she said.
Ofelia leaned forward, reaching out to grab Luz’s arm. “You’re not leaving, like really leaving, are you?”
“You know I have to get back on the road. I’ve got to make it to Mexico by November first.”
“Oh, Luz, I can’t stand that you’re leaving.”
“Don’t cry!” Luz admonished with a short laugh. “It’ll spoil your makeup.”
“See? You’re my best friend!” Ofelia gave a hiccupy laugh. “My only friend! What am I going to do without you?”
“You’ll be so busy taking care of that baby you won’t even miss me,” Luz replied, but she hoped Ofelia would miss her, as she knew she’d miss Ofelia. Then a thought jumped into her brain that so surprised her she put her hand to her cheek. “Oh! I almost forgot. What should I do with Serena?” Just saying the little dog’s name filled Luz with sadness that she’d be leaving this new friend, as well.
“Serena?” Ofelia said, her face creased with worry. “I don’t know! Ay, how could I’ve forgotten my other sweet baby? What should I
do? It’ll be hard enough to take care of this one baby. And I don’t even have a place. I love her, but what am I going to do with a dog, too?”
“Don’t look at me,” Mrs. Penfold said with her hands up. “I have cats.”
Luz licked her lips. Her mind was screaming for her to be quiet, but her heart screamed louder. “I’ll keep her.”
Ofelia released a short laugh of disbelief. “You? But you don’t even like her.”
“Maybe not at first, but she kind of grows on you. We get along fine now and she’s good company. Really,” she confessed. “I’d love to have her.”
Ofelia laughed again with surprise and nodded. “I don’t think I could have given her to anyone else. She’s a good little dog. Sweet, but a little bossy sometimes.”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
Ofelia held out her arms in a typically dramatic gesture, teary once again. Luz stepped into her embrace.
“Promise you’ll visit?” Ofelia said.
“I promise. Kansas isn’t so far. And I’ve a new liking for road trips. But you have to promise to send pictures.”
“Yo prometo. Be careful,” Ofelia said, squeezing her tight.
“Be happy,” Luz replied.
Luz pulled back and put on a brave smile. Wiping her eyes, she headed toward the door.
“Wait!” Ofelia called after her. She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a pair of small pink booties. “I made these. They’re not very good, but I tried hard. Please, take them. They’re for Abuela. For her ofrenda.”
Luz took the crocheted booties, deeply moved. They looked impossibly small in her hand. She looked at the baby squirming and making soft mewling noises in Mrs. Penfold’s arms.