Butterfly Lane

by T. L. Haddix

  “Oh, the sacrifices I make,” he’d teased.

  Zanny had neatly turned the tables on him at that point, focusing all her energy on dragging things out until he was begging for mercy.

  As they passed Lexington, she couldn’t help but chuckle when she thought about the night before.

  “What are you snickering about over there?”

  “You, last night.”

  “Good thing the boys were at Emma’s with her and Rachel.”

  “Given the howling you did? Very good thing.”

  “Howling?” The offended look he shot her promised retribution and made her laugh even harder. “What do you think Ben’s up to, by the way?”

  Zanny pursed her lips and shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t mention where he was going to anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  Ben had called them late on Wednesday to let them know he would be out of town for a few days, but would be back in time for the large family picnic on the Fourth, which was the coming Tuesday.

  “Think he has a girlfriend somewhere?”

  John shook his head. “He isn’t acting like he’s in love or involved, aside from the Ainsley thing. I think it’s something to do with this surprise he has for Emma.”

  “I hope it’s a good one.”

  “Knowing my brother? It could be anything.”

  Zanny grew quiet as they approached the Frankfort exit Jocelyn had told them to take, and she let out a shuddering sigh as John guided the car down the exit ramp. He held his hand palm up in her lap. Grateful for the contact, Zanny took it.

  The neighborhood were Zanny’s aunt lived was a quiet, older street where the houses were stately, if careworn. John parked on the street and turned off the motor. In the silence, Zanny could hear birds chirping, and as she studied the house, three fat grey squirrels ran across the yard and up the tree at the front bumper of the car. The third one stopped and turned to face them, chattering and flapping its tail for a few seconds, before jumping back down on the sidewalk and casually wandering away.

  “Think that was the welcoming committee?” John teased.

  “Sure felt like it. Let’s do this.”

  The door opened before they made it halfway up the brick walk, and a woman who looked eerily familiar came outside. Her arms were crossed, and her anxiety was plain to see. An inch or two taller than Zanny, she was also heavier, but not fat. Her hair was held back by a velvet headband, and the curls it held back were also familiar. She was studying Zanny as closely as Zanny was her, and her hand went to her mouth.

  “Oh, Suzanna. I’d know you anywhere,” she cried. “You look just like your mother.” And as simply as that, she folded Zanny into her arms for a tight, joyful hug.

  She closed her eyes against the pain and the relief of knowing she’d finally found some of the missing pieces of her past.

  For long minutes, they held each other, and then Jocelyn pulled back. Her husband was there behind her, ready to hand out tissues.

  “Oh, Steve, look at her. It’s like seeing Molly all over again, only younger.”

  “That it is.” He was a little taller than Jocelyn and was balding and plump around the middle, but he had a kind smile. He shook hands with John. “Why don’t you kids come on in?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Wait, let me get a look at you, too,” Jocelyn insisted. She did a quick head-to-toe inspection of John then smiled broadly. “What a handsome young man you are. I’ll bet your children are adorable.”

  Zanny laughed a little as a flush spread across John’s cheeks. “We think so.”

  Once they were inside, Steve led them to a sunroom on the back of the house. It was still early enough in the day that the sun hadn’t made its way over the house, and the room was pleasantly cool.

  “I made some tea and some lemonade,” Jocelyn told them as they took seats. She popped right back up again. “Or do you need a restroom? Hazard’s a long drive.”

  “We stopped at a rest area a few miles back,” John told her after Zanny shook her head.

  Steve tugged on Jocelyn’s hand, and she sat.

  “I’m so nervous, you see. I’ve wanted to see this girl for so long, and I had given up hope that it would ever happen.” She beamed across the table at Zanny, then wiped her eyes.

  “I was afraid you might not want to see me,” Zanny confessed. “For all you knew, I had ignored all the letters these past years.”

  Jocelyn was shaking her head before Zanny finished her sentence. “I didn’t think that. Neither did Molly. We knew how Dennis was, you see. And he swore when they separated he’d keep you from her. You know how things are in Eastern Kentucky. The courts don’t like outsiders. We didn’t have the resources to fight him to get you back. So as bad as this sounds, we prayed for years and years that he’d die young, and we’d get you back.” Her eyes grew as round as silver dollars, and her hand flew up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Oh, God. That sounds so awful. He was your father. I’m sorry.”

  Zanny wasn’t offended. “My father was not a good person. When he died, we hadn’t spoken for five years. And we were never close.” She looked down at her lap, where her hands were tangled with John’s. “I have so many questions for you, I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to do this. I’m sorry.”

  “Why don’t you just ask us what you want to know, and we’ll go from there?” Steve said. “And we don’t know how to do this, either. So much is running through your mind at a time like this. We’ll get to all of it, I promise.”

  John brushed a curl back off her face, his hand coming to rub slow, soothing circles on her back. Zanny looked at him, helpless, and he spoke for her.

  “Can you tell us what happened? Why Molly and Dennis separated, why he ended up with Zanny?”

  Jocelyn’s face tightened, and she exchanged a worried look with her husband. “Yes, but you might not…you might have a hard time believing some of what we tell you. You’ll think we’re crazy.”

  Zanny watched as the other couple joined hands, much the way she and John were sitting, and she felt herself relax a little. “I think you’ll be surprised at what we are capable of believing.”

  Steve nodded encouragingly, and Jocelyn started talking. “They met when they were young. Molly was a waitress at one of the restaurants out on the interstate. We grew up here in Frankfort, you know. And I guess Dennis liked what he saw. They ended up married almost before we knew they were dating.”

  “Jocelyn is the eldest, by three years,” Steve interjected. “We were newly married ourselves when Molly brought Dennis home the first time.”

  “We were. I hate to say it, but I never cared for him. He was a bit too…I don’t know. Cocky, I guess the word would be. I didn’t like his attitude. He always acted like he was superior to Steve somehow, because Steve worked in an office. He’s an engineer.”

  “But Dad was a truck driver,” Zanny exclaimed. “Not to disparage truck drivers, but…I’m sorry, Steve.”

  “It’s fine. It isn’t your apology to have to make, anyhow. And it didn’t bother me.”

  Jocelyn smiled. “That’s true. It bothered me more. Steve just let it roll off of him. But to get back to the hows and whys,” she continued, “Dennis moved Molly to the house he owned in Winchester after they married. We kept in touch, but when you’re first married, especially when that first baby comes along, things get crazy. We have three. Two girls and a boy.” She pointed to the family portrait hanging over a small table. “Anyhow, things seemed to be going well, and Molly was happier than I’ve ever seen her when you came along. But then they changed.”

  Steve took over when her voice grew choked. “Ever since she was a little girl, Molly had seen and heard things—things most people don’t see or hear. And she had it under control, but she had a
hard time after you were born. Dennis wasn’t home much, and she didn’t have a lot of friends she could count on.”

  “I wasn’t much help, either, because I’d just found out I was pregnant with my second child, and the pregnancy was rough.” Guilt painted the woman’s face. “And she hid it from me for a long time, how much she was struggling. By the time we realized how bad it was, Dennis had found out about the visions.”

  “And he didn’t react well, I take it,” Zanny said.

  “To say the least.”

  John’s arm tightened around her back. “Given our experiences with the man, that isn’t surprising.”

  “I asked Molly after everything fell apart why she hadn’t told him earlier in their relationship about the visions. And she admitted then that she had known he wouldn’t react well. She wanted him too much to let that stop her. See, she’d handled it so well all her life. It comes down from our grandmother on Daddy’s side. So she didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  “Do you have it, as well?” Zanny needed to know.

  Jocelyn hesitated. “I get feelings. Nothing like what Molly went through, but I’ve learned to not ignore them.”

  “Our oldest son just let us know a few weeks ago that he’s been playing with his cousin, Moira. Moira is my mother’s niece, and she and her brother were killed in 1960.” John made the confession quietly. “Noah, our son, is four. We’ve been a little concerned about it, as you can probably imagine.”

  Jocelyn closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. Is he—does he understand what she is?”

  “He does. John’s family is rather unique,” Zanny said. “They’re very open to the paranormal. So Noah has an excellent support system.”

  “Oh, good. That’s going to be useful in the years to come,” Jocelyn admitted. “And if you want, we can also help with any questions he has, or you do. So far, none of our own children have the ability quite as strongly as Molly did, but we’re all a little different.”

  “What happened when my father found out? About my mother’s abilities, I mean,” Zanny clarified.

  “He didn’t believe her. He thought she’d lost her mind. And he treated her like she had. He had her locked away in a psychiatric ward for the first time when you were two.” Steve’s mouth tightened. “Molly learned quickly to pretend the voices didn’t exist, the visions. She was released from the hospital in a couple of weeks, but it left scars. Back then, psychiatric hospitals were little more than asylums for the insane. Whether you had depression or were truly disturbed, you were lumped in the same group.”

  Jocelyn nodded. “We tried to get her to come here, but she couldn’t leave you. And I understood that. The plan was that she’d go back to Dennis, convince him she was sane, and then once a couple of years had passed, if things were still bad, we would help her get a divorce and custody of you. But she never was the same after that. She never was able to get it back under control. Have you heard of post-partum depression?”

  “Yes,” Zanny answered. “It can be vicious.”

  “Very much so. And looking back now, I think that’s what happened with Molly. We didn’t know what to call it then. The baby blues is what most people knew it as. But it changed the way her brain worked, and we didn’t realize it in time to help her.”

  “Well, there wasn’t a lot that could be done then. The medications to deal with depression were still in their infancy, really,” Steve added. “It wasn’t until the last two or three years of her life that she found a doctor who knew what to do. And she was back to being Molly again.”

  Zanny’s heart was breaking, thinking of her mother and how much she must have suffered. “So she and Dad decided to divorce?”

  Jocelyn poured them drinks while she answered. “Yes. She didn’t have a lot of choice, and as much as I hate to admit it, neither did Dennis. They filed a formal separation order, and he took you to your gran. Molly always liked her, and she thought you’d be taken care of. She had no intention of letting you go forever.”

  “None at all,” Steve emphasized. “None of us did. But once it was done, Dennis did everything he could to block us from contacting you. Molly spent that first year after they split in Louisville, in a different hospital than where she’d been before.”

  “When she came home, came to us,” Jocelyn said softly, “we knew she wasn’t in any shape to take care of you. She couldn’t handle being around our little ones, as much as she loved children. So we took care of her until she was able to get back on her feet somewhat. Steve’s mother lives just up the road, and Molly moved in with her.”

  There was so much to take in. Zanny sat back against the pillows of the loveseat, grateful that Steve and Jocelyn seemed to understand that she needed a minute.

  “What did she think, when she didn’t hear from me?” she finally asked.

  “She figured Dennis had interfered. We all did. You adored her when you were little.” Jocelyn smiled. “You were her shadow. So when she never heard from you, she knew it wasn’t you.”

  “And she never doubted that?”

  “Not once.”

  Zanny wondered if their situations were reversed, if she would be as strong as her mother had been.

  She and John spent most of the day with Jocelyn and Steve. Jocelyn had boxes and boxes of photo albums, and she eagerly pulled them out. When Zanny confessed that she didn’t have any pictures of her mother, Jocelyn handed her a large envelope.

  “That has copies of several of the best pictures I have of Molly, as well as a few of us and our parents. I figured someone like Dennis wouldn’t let you keep pictures, so as soon as you called, I started pulling those together for you. They’re yours to keep.”

  On top of all the day’s revelations, that one touched Zanny the most, and she didn’t even try to stop her tears. “Thank you so much.”

  By four o’clock, she was exhausted. John picked up on it, to her relief.

  “As much as this has been a wonderful day, and we’ve enjoyed spending time with you, I think we need to go. The last few months have been difficult for us, and I think Zanny needs a break.”

  Zanny didn’t protest. She desperately needed to be alone, to think. One more thing, though, needed doing.

  “Where is she? Molly, I mean. Where is she buried?”

  Steve answered. “If you go under the interstate, instead of getting back on it, and go on down the road past the motel about a mile and a half, there’s a cemetery on your right. It’s a big cemetery, but there’s an eight-foot-tall angel in the far left-hand corner in the front, near a beautiful oak tree. She’s next to the angel, one row back.”

  John thanked him as they stood and made their way to the front door. Jocelyn grabbed Zanny for another tight hug.

  “I don’t want to let you go.”

  “I know. But I promise you, I’ll come back this time. I have two rambunctious little boys who are going to want to meet their new family.”

  After more tears and hugs, they managed to get away. Zanny held the photos close to her heart, trying to wrap her head around everything she’d learned, as John pulled out onto the street.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “To her. If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Throughout the day, John had kept a close eye on Zanny. He could only begin to imagine how hard all the revelations had been for her and what she was going through. So far, she’d held up, but stress had etched lines of strain around her mouth and eyes.

  He doubted the wisdom of making the trip to the cemetery today and debated for five minutes whether or not to speak up. Given how much trouble keeping quiet had caused, he spoke. “Why don’t we get a room for the night and go to the cemetery tomorrow?”

  Zanny rubbed her forehead. “I—I’d rather
go today. I’m sorry.”

  John touched her arm. “Don’t apologize. I’m just worried about you.”

  She caught his hand and kissed it. “I’m okay.”

  When they got to the cemetery, John spotted the angel right away. It was the tallest statue in the front of the cemetery. As they got out of the car, he cast a wary eye skyward. Dark clouds threatened rain, and he hoped they could get back in the car before it hit.

  They found Molly’s modest grave marker easily. Zanny stood over it, just staring, for the longest time.

  Her voice was choked when she read the dates. “Nineteen-thirty-nine to nineteen-eighty-six. That isn’t a lot of years.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  She sank in front of the marker and ran her hand over the smooth surface. A cheerful, if somewhat droopy, bouquet of daisies filled the small vase beside the stone. Jocelyn had told them that she visited every Sunday. Zanny fingered one of the blooms and shook her head.

  John waited, not interfering with her grief, until rain started to fall. At first, the droplets were gentle splashes, but within a minute, it was a downpour. “Zanny, we need to go.”

  “No.”

  The rain had begun to fall so hard that he could barely hear her over the sound. And it was cold, too, not a warm summer drizzle.

  Hunkering down behind her, John put his hands on her shoulders. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but we need to go.”

  Zanny jerked away from him. “I can’t leave her.”

  Unsure of what to do, John hesitated. A flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder, made the decision for him. He wrapped an arm around Zanny’s waist and stood.

  “We’re going. Your mother wouldn’t want you to get hit by lightning while visiting her grave.”