Butterfly Lane

by T. L. Haddix

  “But what about John?” Zanny gave a token protest, but the idea of a soft, comfortable bed was more appealing than she was strong. They headed upstairs.

  “Owen is going to talk to him before he ever sees you. We’ll wake you up.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Sarah.”

  Sarah opened the dresser and got out a pair of pajamas. “These should fit. And I’m glad to help. So is Owen. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She closed the door quietly behind her when she left.

  Zanny stripped off her clothes, leaving on only her cotton panties, and stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her belly. Only a tiny curve there hinted at the pregnancy, though her breasts were definitely fuller than they had been. The idea of the baby didn’t seem real yet, despite all the turmoil. A cold shiver chased over her, and she hurried to dress. Tired of worrying about everything and of waiting for the axe to fall, she turned the covers back and crawled in bed.

  She couldn’t even worry about John’s reaction anymore. She just didn’t have the energy.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was close to five o’clock by the time John finally made it in. He’d gotten stuck behind an accident on the parkway and had sat for nearly two hours, waiting for the debris to be cleaned up. Knowing the family would be worried, he stopped at the first exit and called home to let them know he would be delayed.

  When he pulled up in the driveway, Amelia and Rachel were coming out the door, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

  “Hey, trouble. Where are the two of you headed?” He accepted the hugs the girls gave him, his eyes going to his parents as they came out onto the porch.

  “Down to Uncle Jack’s. Mom says you’ll need privacy.”

  “Head on down, girls. I’ll walk down and get you later.” Owen stepped down to the walk, ruffling their hair before giving them a gentle nudge.

  John could tell they were being eaten alive by curiosity, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by, but Owen had the look on his face that they all knew not to mess with, so they went.

  “Tell Gilly to call me when you get there,” Sarah hollered after them.

  “Where’s Zanny? I thought you said she was okay.” John started for the house, but Owen laid a hand flat on his chest, stopping him.

  “She’s asleep. You and I are going to have a little talk, then you’ll see her.”

  Frustrated and worried, John clasped his hand around Owen’s wrist. “With all due respect, we can talk after I see her. Now, if you don’t mind?”

  Owen took a step closer to him, and to John’s surprise, his eyes flashed with a warning that John knew to heed. Even so, he had to force himself to back down.

  Sarah stepped up to them. “John, go with your father. There are some things you need to know before you see Zanny. It won’t take long, and you can see her as soon as you finish, but you’re not getting in that house until you talk.”

  That terrified John. “She’s not okay, is she? What is it you aren’t telling me?” he whispered.

  Owen sighed, moving his hand from John’s chest to wrap it around his shoulders. “She’s okay. You know we’ve never lied to you. Calm down, and use your head, okay? Now come on. To the barn.”

  With one last glance back at his mother, John followed Owen across the yard. The air was colder on the top of the mountain, and he hunched into his jacket as they walked. Once in the barn, Owen flipped the light switch and moved to the middle of the open floor. He stopped, hands clenched at his sides, and let out a long breath.

  “Just get it over with, please?”

  Owen turned. “Get what over with?”

  “The lecture? Whatever this is that you have to tell me. Because the way you and Mom are acting, I won’t believe Zanny’s okay until I see her.”

  “‘Okay’ might be a little optimistic. She’s exhausted, and she’s scared to death. Thing is, John, I don’t know what I want to say or need to say. I’ve got two problems here. I want to strangle you, and I want to kill her father. Frustration is winning out over concern right now.”

  “She’s pregnant. Oh, God. I was right.” When he sat down hard on a bale of straw, John could tell he’d surprised Owen. That barely registered, however, through his emotions. Grief, joy, and fear all warred for space. Laying his arms across his knees, he bent double and rested his head on his arms, trying to regain control. After a minute, Owen sat beside him and laid a hand on his back.

  “You’re not surprised.”

  John shook his head without lifting it. “Not really. It was the only thing that made sense.” With a soggy laugh, he raised his head. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t careful enough. You’re sure? She’s sure?”

  “From what your mother was able to coax out of her, yes. She hasn’t seen a doctor yet, but there’s no doubt.”

  “Of course she hasn’t seen a doctor. She can’t drive, so she can’t get to town. She can’t hitch a ride and go to the clinic three miles away because then everyone on the river would know. I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry, Dad.”

  Owen gave him a one-armed hug. “All things considered, it’s not the worst way to find out we’re going to be grandparents.”

  Just the idea was stunning to John, and he looked at Owen, speechless. He knew his eyes had to be as big as dinner plates. To his surprise, Owen smiled a little, but turned serious again.

  “Damn it, John. What a mess. And I haven’t even told you about her father yet.” He got up and paced across the aisle, toying with an old bridle that was hanging beside the stall. “Dennis roughed her up a little when he found out.”

  The words didn’t register at first, but when they did, John shot up. Owen was there to stop him.

  “I’ll kill him. Let me go, damn it!”

  Owen tightened his hold as John struggled. “Not on your life. Zanny needs you, your unborn child needs you, and the rest of your family needs you. If you think I’m letting you go kill a man so you can end up in jail for the rest of your life, think again.”

  John cursed him mightily, but Owen didn’t relent. After a long struggle, John finally calmed down enough to stop fighting his father. “How bad?”

  “He slapped her a couple of times and bruised her arm. Be careful with her when you do see her. It’s her left arm. Mostly it’s just bruises, but we don’t think it’s the first time he’s hit her, based on what she said.”

  John was glad for his father’s support, because his legs went out from under him at the revelation. Owen eased them both to the ground, keeping his arms around John as though he were still a young boy in need of comfort. Part of him was.

  “If it was Mom, you’d kill the bastard who hurt her.”

  “Probably would try. And I’d hope that someone would care enough about me to stop me. He won’t go unpunished, John. I promise you that. But it’s not your fight. It’s up to Zanny. She’s the one he hurt. She’s the one who has the right to decide what to do. Understand?”

  John nodded. His mind flew to the family tragedy—the death of his young cousins at the hands of Sarah’s brother-in-law. His aunt Kathy, who’d barely lived through the beating her husband had given her before he killed their children and himself, had never fully recovered. She lived in Georgia with John’s grandmother, and though she’d remarried a few years back, too often, she was locked away in her own mind. John figured that tragedy would trouble his parents for the rest of their lives.

  “Is Mom okay? What with Kathy and all?”

  “Yeah. She’s handling it. I’ll be there for her.”

  “I know.” John pulled himself together a little, but didn’t move away. “I knew things weren’t great between Zanny and her dad, but I didn’t know…Damn him! How could he hit her? She’s one of the sweetest people I know, Dad.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes, hard, trying to stem the tears
that threatened to form.

  “That kind of violence doesn’t make any sense. You’ll drive yourself crazy looking for an answer to that question. People who abuse those they’re supposed to be caring for, there’s just something missing inside them, John.”

  Shakily, he got to his feet. Owen rose beside him.

  “I need to see her. But I need a few minutes first. I think I’ll walk around outside.”

  Owen eyed him. “You’d better not try to go down the mountain. I meant what I said. I won’t let you ruin your life for him.”

  “I’ll stay up here.” They left the barn, Owen turning the lights out behind them. “Dad, is Zanny… Does she seem happy about the baby?”

  “That’s another question I can’t answer. I think she’s been so worried and so afraid of what would happen when everyone found out that she probably hasn’t had time to absorb the joy of it.” Owen’s mouth tightened. “What about you? How do you feel?”

  John ducked his head and shrugged. He tried to put aside all the fear and anger over what Dennis had done and think about the fact that Zanny was pregnant with their child. He answered carefully. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I really didn’t. I know it complicates things. I was going to propose to her at Christmas, and then, if she said yes, aim for a wedding after I graduate next year. That’s all out the window now. But I do love her, Dad. And I… We’re going to have a baby. It just isn’t real yet. But I think I’m excited.” He wondered what the child would look like and whether it would be a boy or a girl. Would it have Zanny’s curls, her smile or her hazel eyes? The wonder of it all was starting to grow, and he couldn’t hold back a small smile. “I’m going to be a father. Wow.”

  “Yes, you are.” They’d reached the house, and Owen started up the steps to the front porch. “Don’t linger out here too long. I expect Zanny will be awake soon.”

  “Okay.”

  He waited for Owen to go in the house, and once the door closed behind him, John headed back to the barn. He grabbed an old axe handle that no longer had a head then went out to the woodpile behind the barn. Tossing aside his coat, he moved to an old stump Owen had been working on breaking up for a few months, and he swung, and swung, and swung—until the handle finally splintered. The bulk of it flew off into the woods, and John was left standing there, panting in the dark, his breath leaving his body in steaming gusts. With a final, outraged roar, he tossed what was left of the handle after the other piece and closed his eyes against the overwhelming sadness.

  Moving slowly, he picked up his jacket, locked the barn, and made his way to the house. Sarah met him at the door. When she saw him, her smile faded.

  “What in the world happened to you? You’re soaked.”

  John wiped a hand across his forehead. “You know that stump behind the barn?”

  “The one your father’s been slowly chipping away at?”

  “It needs a little less chipping now. And I owe you an axe handle.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Ignoring the sweat-soaked clothing, she pulled him close for a tight, if brief, hug. She took his jacket and hung it up beside the door. “Zanny’s in Emma’s room. You might want to change clothes before you go in there.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us. You can close the door for privacy, but I’m trusting you. No hanky-panky. Keep your pants zipped.”

  John flushed. “Mom!”

  When she just crossed her arms and looked at him, silently daring him to say anything in contradiction, he nodded and started up the steps. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “John?”

  He stopped. “Yeah?”

  “She’s a little fragile right now, emotionally. Just keep that in mind.”

  “I will.”

  He ducked into his room to grab clean clothes, then into the bathroom to freshen up. Once he was clean, he leaned against the sink and met his eyes in the mirror. For a man who loved planning things, someone who had a deep appreciation for discipline and schedules, he was at a loss as to how to approach Zanny. Knowing he didn’t have time to sit down and think it out, he straightened.

  “God, please help me handle this the right way. And please give me the strength to resist tearing her father’s head off.”

  Heart in his throat, he reached for the door handle. He went across the hall in his stocking feet to the door of Emma’s room and knocked. He got no answer, so he eased open the door and looked inside. Someone, probably his mother, had turned on the lamp on the dresser. It cast a soft glow, keeping the bed in shadow for the most part. There was just enough light that he could see Zanny curled up, still asleep, under the covers. Only her face and head peeked out.

  He slipped inside and closed the door behind him. Edging closer, he just watched her for a minute. The visceral tug he always felt the first time he’d seen her after a separation pulled at him sharply. He knelt beside the bed and touched her face lightly, moving a curl off her cheek.

  “Zanny?”

  She murmured but didn’t rouse, only snuggled deeper.

  He tried again. “Zanny, sweetheart. Wake up for me?”

  That got him a slight frown, but she still slept. It was anticlimactic, John thought, absurdly wanting to laugh. He went to the other side of the bed and lifted the covers, then slid in behind her. Inch by inch, he eased into bed. When he was finally beside her, he put his arms around her waist and drew her back so that she was pressed against him. He moved his hand so that it rested over her pelvis, and he closed his eyes. Feeling her warm body against his, he finally started to relax and let go of some of his fear that she’d been harmed. Holding her close, he waited.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zanny was warm and comfortable when she woke. She felt more secure than she had in weeks, and she started to wonder if everything had just been an awful dream. Then she realized she wasn’t in bed alone. A warm, male body was pressed all along her length, and a familiar hand gently cupped her belly.

  “John.”

  As she tried to make sense of everything, he placed a soft kiss behind her ear, but he didn’t speak. Cautiously, she covered his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together so tightly that it was almost painful. Despite her best efforts, a tear slipped from her eye, and she sniffled.

  “I love you,” John whispered in her ear.

  All she could do was hold on to his hand and cry.

  John moved back, putting enough distance between them that he could roll her onto her back. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe.” He traced her cheek with fingers so gentle, she barely felt the touch. Lowering his head, he placed a butterfly kiss on her forehead, then each of her eyes, her cheek, and the tip of her nose. Finally, he settled his mouth on hers. The kiss was intimate, but not passionate. He didn’t linger, but when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers.

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Zanny couldn’t take it any longer and broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

  John shook his head. “No. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He lifted his head and moved the covers back, then laid his hand flat against her belly again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  In the dim light, his face was mostly in shadows, but the tender look in his eyes nearly undid her.

  “I didn’t know how.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t be happy?”

  “I didn’t know what you would think. When we talked about kids, it was always something for later. Maybe. Nothing concrete, at any rate. And then I told you I wasn’t p-pregnant, and I am. I didn’t know if you’d even think it was yours.”

  The look he sent her wasn’t difficult to interpret. It was a chastisement. To her surprise, he just shook his head and smiled. “Silly woman. I love you. I have for years now. I thought you knew that.”

  Zan
ny didn’t have words to explain everything she was feeling. She just had too much inside. She buried her face in his throat and let the tears come.

  Some time later, John reached across her and turned on the bedside lamp, bringing the box of tissues back with him. He pulled out a handful and mopped her face, then helped her sit up. He got up and walked around the room while she cleaned up her face and blew her nose.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to—” He stopped and turned back to her. “What do you want to do?”

  She laughed. “What I want doesn’t matter. We don’t have a lot of choices here.” She ran her hands through her hair, moving it back and tugging hard. John came over and hunkered down beside the bed. His gaze was intent as it moved across her bruises, but he didn’t say anything. He disentangled her hands from her curls and laced their fingers together.

  “Pretend for a few minutes that we did. What would you want, if things hadn’t happened the way they have?”

  Zanny thought about not answering him, but his quiet patience reached out to her. He didn’t deserve her bad temper. She gave the question serious consideration.

  “I guess…in a perfect world?” He nodded, and she continued, smiling sadly. “I’d have a job where I helped people, something where I felt like I made a difference. And it would be a fun job. Something light, but meaningful.”

  John settled in at her feet, rubbing her legs through the fabric of the pajamas. “Sounds good so far. Go on.”

  “I’d have a nice little car. Something small. Something sporty, but practical.” She reached out and traced one of his eyebrows, liking the shape of it and the silky texture. “I’d have house in a nice neighborhood with real sidewalks and big old trees lining the streets. There’d be a front porch with a swing, and maybe even a picket fence. I’ve always wanted to live someplace that had sidewalks and a park nearby so I could take my babies. Someplace we could ride bikes when they got old enough. I guess that sounds pretty silly, huh? And here you told me a few months ago you were boring.”