Butterfly Lane

by T. L. Haddix

  Zanny struggled. Not wanting to hurt her, John loosened his grasp, and she swung around angrily. “Damn you. She’s my mother. Let me go.”

  “That isn’t going to happen. You can hate me all you want to, but I’m getting you somewhere safe.”

  Her anger subsided at the words, and she slumped against him. He helped her to the car. Once they were inside with the engine running, he wiped the water off his face. They were both soaked to the skin. A glance at Zanny, who was crying softly beside him, told John they were not in any shape to drive the three hours home. Remembering the motel just down the road, he checked the traffic and pulled out.

  The two-mile drive took twice as long as it should have because of the rain. He parked under the porte cochere in front of the office and turned the heater up full blast.

  “Wait here.” With a worried glance at Zanny, he got out and hurried inside.

  The man behind the counter gave him a suspicious look, taking in his wet clothing, but accepted his credit card readily enough. The air-conditioned lobby chilled him almost to the bone, and John was shaking as he signed the slip.

  “Is there any way I can get some hot coffee sent over to our room?”

  “Each room has a coffeemaker and all you’ll need to make a pot yourself. Is that sufficient?”

  “It’s perfect, thanks.” He took the key and dashed out to the car. Zanny was huddled up in the passenger seat, and despite the warm air blowing out of the vents, she was shivering. “I got us a room,” he told her as he pulled the car around.

  She didn’t say anything. Moving with urgency, John parked and unlocked the door to the hotel room, then propped it open with the bolt on the back. He didn’t like the blank look on Zanny’s face when he cajoled her out of the car. He paused only long enough to grab the bag they’d packed and lock the car.

  Inside, he steered her straight to the bathroom. He had to get her warm. “Sit here on the toilet. I’ll get the coffee going and be right back. Can you undress?”

  She didn’t answer, and he made the coffee so fast that he wasn’t sure it was going to be potable when it was done. Turning the water on so it would get hot, he stripped down as fast as he could, then kicked his clothes aside. Zanny hadn’t moved.

  “Zanny, you’re scaring me. Come on. Let’s get your clothes off.” He stood her on her feet and cursed when he couldn’t get the button on her pants undone.

  She stopped him with an icy-cold hand, and they managed to get her clothes off between the two of them. John tested the water temperature and adjusted it to where it needed to be, then wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the tub. Joining her, he maneuvered them so that the spray was hitting her back, as well as part of his shoulder.

  After several minutes, Zanny finally stirred, lifting her head from his chest. John traded places with her. He was still shivering because he’d been so focused on getting her warm, he’d forgotten his own chills.

  “They must have a huge water heater,” he joked as he pushed her wet hair off her face.

  “Probably tankless,” Zanny responded without looking at him. “I’m sorry I fell apart like that. Sorry I hit you.”

  “I’m tough. I can take it. And you don’t have a thing in the world to apologize for.”

  Finally feeling warm enough to get out, he turned off the water and reached for the towels that were stacked neatly on a rack over the toilet. When Zanny actively participated in drying off, he sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.

  “Go ahead and get under the covers. I’ll get us some coffee.” He poured two cups, one with extra sugar, then joined her. With the blackout curtains shut, the only light in the room came from the bathroom, creating an intimate, cave-like feel.

  Mostly warm, John took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. It didn’t taste quite as bad as he’d expected, but it was far from good. He set his mug aside and wrapped an arm around Zanny. She had her knees drawn up, both hands around her mug, and was sipping slowly.

  “John?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I love you, but you make a lousy cup of coffee.” She set the mug on the nightstand, then covered her face with her hands, laughing. In an instant, the laughter had turned to wracking sobs, and she buried her face in his chest.

  John let her calm down a bit before he teased, “I swear to you, I’ll never make coffee again. I didn’t think it was that bad.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to the top of her head.

  “Are there any tissues?”

  He glanced around. “Not in here. I’ll check the bathroom.”

  She was curled up against the pillows, the covers pulled up to her shoulder, when he came back with the box. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. I just want you to hold me.”

  So he did.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  An hour later, the rain hadn’t abated much. Dressed in dry jeans from the bag, John sat on the end of the bed and turned the TV to the local news. The weather map showed a widespread storm system.

  “We’d be safer to just bunker down. And we’ve already paid for the room,” he told Zanny as she stopped beside him. She was wearing his clean, dry button-up shirt and nothing else. John pulled her close, resting his head on the side of her breast.

  “I don’t think I could face three hours in the car tonight, anyhow.” She hugged him absently, sipping coffee from the pot she’d made.

  “Have I ever mentioned how much I like seeing you wear my clothes?” He slid his hand under the shirt to caress her bare bottom. “Especially when you don’t have anything else on?”

  Zanny pulled back and looked at him. “No, you haven’t.”

  Letting his hand drop, John sighed. “Well, I do.”

  “I’ll remember that.” She sat beside him, stretching out her feet to inspect her toes. “I slept in one of your old shirts more often than I slept in my gowns when you were gone. And there was a little bottle of cologne in the back of the cabinet. I’d sprinkle it on your pillow every time I changed the sheets.”

  John was surprised by the admission, but he didn’t interrupt her.

  “I hated being separated from you. Hated it. But I understood that we needed to be apart. I hope you did, too. The separation wasn’t something I did to punish you, at least, not for the most part. Though I was pretty angry after the kiss thing.”

  “It took me a little while to understand, but I guess that’s part of the point of the whole thing.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted in a quirky smile. “Yeah, it is. But if I hadn’t thought it would bring me back to you, bring us back together, I never would have initiated the separation. Either time.” She ran her fingers through her curls, which had gone berserk after the rain and her shower. “What my mother and father went through, I can’t imagine that. And as much as I hate what he did to keep us apart, part of me understands. Part of me is grateful. Damn it.”

  John thought he knew what she meant, but he asked, just in case, “How do you mean?”

  She scratched her arm. “As much as it would hurt me to do it, if I thought you or your family represented a danger to the boys, I’d have no choice but to pull away from you. And from what Jocelyn said, my mother wasn’t stable. Taking me someplace safe, even though he took me away from her family, too, was probably the best thing my father ever did for me. When I try to reconcile that with the pain and anger I feel for him—and for her, if we’re being honest—it just gets jumbled up inside. But I get why he did part of what he did.”

  “I think he took it to an extreme level, though,” John countered. “True, mental health care wasn’t the same then as it is now, but to separate you so completely, for so long? I just wonder if he was that angry, or if he knew something the rest of us don’t.”

  Zanny’s bro
w wrinkled. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like if he visited her from time to time, without anyone knowing. Something Dad’s fond of saying occurred to me while I was listening to your aunt talk. A wound can’t heal if you’re continually pouring salt in it. And Dennis acted like a man who was continually pouring salt into his wounds.”

  She considered his words. “It’s entirely possible, I suppose.”

  “And she probably wouldn’t have wanted to mention it to her family, because she would have been ashamed of that contact. Especially if it didn’t go well. I don’t know. I’m just throwing it out there.” He took her mug and finished the coffee. “You are definitely the coffee maker in the family.”

  “No arguments there.” She groaned and fell back on the bed. “So what are we going to do tonight?”

  John sat the mug on the dresser and climbed over her. He rested his weight against her lightly and tugged on one of her curls. When he let it go, it bounced back into place, and he smiled. Most of the time, she kept them smoothed out. It was fun to see her head covered in a riot of corkscrews. “We could talk, or we could go out and get some food. Maybe see if there’s a store nearby to browse through, find a pack of cards.”

  Zanny wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him closer. “Food sounds good, but I think I’m just about talked out.” She ran her hands down his back, scraping gently with her nails as she brought them back up. “You know, we’ve not stayed in a motel since our honeymoon. This brings back some memories.”

  John hesitated. “I don’t want to take advantage of you right now.”

  She lifted her hips, undulating them against his. “Feels like you do. And if I initiate things, you won’t be taking advantage of me. It will be the other way around.”

  He groaned low. “I hate being noble. But I’m going to say no, not until after we’ve eaten.”

  “Then you’d better find me a diner and find it fast, because I am going to have my way with you tonight,” she whispered in his ear, biting on the earlobe.

  “I love you, Suzanna D’lores,” he whispered.

  “And I love you, John David.”

  Chapter Sixty

  John enlisted Owen’s help with his plan, which he explained on Sunday after dinner. “Can you help?”

  They were in the barn, and Owen was eyeballing him, his arms crossed. “I can.”

  “What?”

  His father shook his head. “I’ve wondered about something for years, and I guess now I know the answer. I wish I didn’t. I’ll never look at the hayloft the same way again.”

  John didn’t understand. “Then why didn’t you ask, if you wanted to know?”

  “Because I didn’t want to know. Where the two of you did…you know. What resulted in Noah. It’s none of my business. But it sure explains why both of you run for this barn when you’re hurting.”

  “Dad!” John knew his face had to be blood red, but he couldn’t help laughing. “We never…you know…here. We just flirted here. A lot. The hayloft is the first place I told Zanny I loved her. That’s all.”

  Five minutes later, Owen was still shaking his head, and John laughed every time Owen looked at him. “One of these days, those boys of yours are going to get you back for this. You just wait. I only hope I’m around to see it.”

  On the Fourth, the dawn was cloudy, but the weather forecast promised clear, sunny skies later in the day. John was as excited as a kid at Christmas as they drove to the farm at ten that morning.

  “What are you so excited about?” Zanny asked.

  “I have a surprise for you. That’s all.”

  She traced his ear with a fingertip, causing him to squirm. “Borrowing a card from your brother?”

  “Nope. This one is all me.”

  The whole family, including Jack, Gilly, Michelle, and Rick, were going to be at the farm as well as John’s sisters’ assorted friends. Sarah had mentioned something about Jack bringing a friend from work who was new to the area, and some of the neighbors usually stopped by, if only briefly. Nearly twenty people would probably be there over the course of the day. Because of the farm’s wide-open spaces, most of the extended family’s outdoor activities were held there. Thanks to its vantage point on top of one of the highest mountains in Perry County, they would be able to see the fireworks displays of all the towns within a thirty mile radius if the valleys below stayed clear of fog.

  Amelia came out on the porch when they pulled up, and Rachel was close behind her. John unloaded all the food they’d brought with them. He stopped Zanny when she started into the house.

  “Nope. I have plans for you for a little bit. Pip, you have the boys?”

  “Oh, yeah. Daddy said to let you know things are ready, by the way.”

  From the grin his sisters exchanged, John figured Owen had told them what the surprise was. He tugged on their ponytails in thanks, then clasped Zanny’s hand.

  “Come on.”

  She looked over her shoulder at the girls, but didn’t protest. “Is this part of your surprise?”

  “It is.”

  “You didn’t get me a horse, did you?” she asked as they approached the barn. “Or a dog?”

  “No. Though Noah is starting to make noises about one of Mrs. Hendricks’s neighbors. Apparently, they have a cat who had kittens a few weeks back, and he discovered them yesterday.”

  “Did she say if she was coming to the picnic or not?”

  “She wasn’t sure. But I stressed the invitation.” He ushered her in the barn and closed the door behind them, pausing to let their eyes adjust. “Remember the hayloft?”

  Zanny leaned into him. “I do. John Campbell, you didn’t bring me out here to seduce me, did you?”

  “Not exactly, but I’m easy, if you want to try,” he teased. “Let’s go up.”

  The basket he’d asked Owen to pack was on a small table in the middle of the hayloft, along with a rolled-up sleeping bag. John coughed to cover his laugh when he saw it. A note was pinned to the top of it, and he snatched it up before Zanny could.

  “I wanted you to have someplace to sit comfortably, but not too comfortably. Dad.” “Too” was underlined three times, and John grinned. “I love my parents.”

  “What in the world?” Zanny looked askance at the sleeping bag, bypassing it to look out the open window on the other side of the loft. She looked back at John. “What’s in the basket?”

  “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

  He lifted the lid, and drew out the small thermos and two glasses he’d expected to find as well as the bouquet of red roses he’d requested from his mother. He handed the roses to Zanny, watching as she inhaled their heady scent. The roses were from Sarah’s own garden, not a hothouse that left them with little discernible fragrance. He could smell them from a foot away.

  “Oh, John.”

  “You like those?”

  “Mmm-hmmm. There’s nothing like a rose, except maybe a peony. But it’s a close, close race.”

  He smiled and poured two glasses of iced tea. “I hoped you’d like them. Here.”

  When she took the glass, he clinked his against it and saluted her. “To us.”

  “To us.” She took a cautious sip, sputtering out a laugh as she realized what it was. “Tea?”

  “It’s symbolic. I thought you remembered that day?”

  “I do. And I hope the symbolism doesn’t extend to us dousing ourselves in it,” she teased, taking another sip.

  “It does not.” Feeling suddenly nervous, he set his glass next to the basket. “I know the past few months haven’t been all tea and roses. And I’m sorry for that.”

  She put her glass down beside his, then laid the roses on top of the basket with care. “That hasn’t been your fault alone, you know. And I’m sorry, too.
” She stepped closer, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you.”

  John smoothed his hands over her hair, dislodging the scarf she’d tied her curls back with. “I love you. So much, Zanny, it scares me.” He dipped his head and kissed her softly, deeply, putting more emotion than heat into the kiss.

  After a couple of minutes, he pulled back and cleared his throat. “All those years ago, when I came home from school, there was a part of me that was disappointed that we didn’t get to do things the right way.” He’d kept her hands in his, and he felt her jerk. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry you. Never think that. But damn it, I wanted to do the romantic proposal. I wanted to watch you coming down the aisle to me in the dress. I wanted to stand in front of God and everyone we know and shout from the rooftops that you were mine and that I loved you. And I know you wanted it, too. Don’t say you didn’t,” he chastised her when she started to protest.

  She freed one of her hands and traced his mouth. “The end result was the same. How we got there wasn’t as important, when everything was said and done.”

  “No, it wasn’t. But here’s the thing. We’ve been through hell and back this year, Zan. And I think we’re back together, but I want to make it official. Since we have this opportunity, I’m going to take it.” He fumbled in the pocket of his cargo shorts, pulling out the velvet box he’d stashed there before they left the house. Dropping to one knee, he flipped open the top and looked up at Zanny.

  “I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me, Suzanna D’lores? Again?”

  Her hands were at her mouth, trembling, and tears were sliding down her cheeks. “John, oh. Oh, you didn’t have to do this.” She slowly reached for the box, as though she were afraid it would disappear if she moved too quickly. “I don’t even want to know how much this cost.”