The Butterfly Whisperer

by Lisa Moreau

  “Chuck!” Rebecca yelled.

  Probably short for Charles Junior. Not only a son, but also a namesake.

  The boy stopped and yelled, “What?”

  “Here!” Rebecca pointed to the ground in front of her.

  Jordan studied Chuck as he approached. He was a carbon copy of her when she was a kid. Light-brown hair, hazel eyes, and long eyelashes.

  Tentatively, Jordan met her father’s eyes. He looked a bit older, gray around the temples and with a few wrinkles. Rebecca, on the other hand, hadn’t changed a bit. She was still blond out of a bottle, dressed like a hooker on Sunset Boulevard, and had a waist as thick as a pencil. Jordan squinted as the sparkles from her flashy costume jewelry practically blinded her.

  “Let’s gooo,” Chuck said, pulling on Rebecca’s arm. When no one made a move, he looked up at Jordan. “Who’s this?”

  After a dreadfully long pause, Rebecca said, “That’s Jordan.”

  Chuck squished his eyebrows together and stared up at the sky. After a few moments his face lit up. “My sister!? The lesb—”

  “Don’t you dare say that word, young man.” Rebecca scowled. Looking slightly embarrassed, she added, “It’s just that we like to watch his vocabulary.”

  And the word “lesbian” shouldn’t be allowed in anyone’s vocabulary?

  “Hi. I’m Chuck, but you can call me Chucky. Like that doll in the horror movie. Do you like scary movies?”

  “Not particularly,” Jordan said. The kid was a lot friendlier than his parents, even with the Chucky reference.

  “We’re going to get a hot dog. Wanna come?”

  “Probably not, but thanks anyway.” Jordan looked at her father. “I was sorry to hear about Grandmother.”

  Charles glared, stone-faced. “I heard you were back in town.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t have much of a choice.” Jordan wasn’t sure how much, if anything, he knew about her grandmother’s letter.

  “Hey, Jordan, I have a basketball game Friday. You wanna come?” Chuck asked.

  “I’ll think about that.” She resisted the urge to pat him on the head. He was a cute kid.

  “Dad’s been helping me with my free-throw shooting. I’m getting really good.”

  Jordan felt a stab of jealousy. Her father had never helped her with anything when she was young. She pushed the feeling aside, reminding herself she wasn’t in competition with a seven-year-old.

  “We need to get going. Nice seeing you again.” Rebecca grabbed Chuck’s arm and pulled him down the street.

  Chuck looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Bye, Jordan. Don’t forget about my game Friday.”

  Jordan looked at her father. “I have a brother?”

  He nodded once in response. “How long are you in town?”

  “Longer than I’d probably like. Um, could we meet for coffee sometime?”

  “Why?”

  “Just…I can explain when we meet.”

  Charles paused for what seemed like an eternity. “All right. When?”

  Jordan tried not to show how shocked she was that he’d agreed. “How about Tuesday at nine? Bertha’s Coffee Shop?”

  “See you then.”

  Jordan sat on a bench and stared at her father long after he’d disappeared into the crowd.

  Sophie approached and sat beside her. “Was that your dad?”

  “Yeah. He actually agreed to have coffee with me.”

  Sophie put her hand on Jordan’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not going to faint, if that’s what you mean.” Jordan halfheartedly grinned.

  “You know, if you ever want to talk about it. I’m a great listener.” Jordan lowered her gaze, completely silent. “You didn’t say why he sent you to live with your mother.” More silence. “Well, whatever the reason I can’t imagine you could have done anything to deserve that. Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?”

  Jordan jerked her head toward Sophie. “Why should I?”

  “To free yourself. Forgiveness isn’t something you do for him. It’s something you do for yourself.”

  “If you knew the whole story you wouldn’t say that. And anyway, I’d think if anyone would understand, it’d be you. With your mom and all.” Jordan didn’t want to bring up a painful memory for Sophie, but their situations were similar. They’d both been abandoned by a parent.

  “My mom did the best she could.”

  Jordan gaped at Sophie. “How can you say that? She robbed a bank and then completely disappeared after she got out of jail.”

  Sophie shrugged. “You don’t know what her childhood was like, how her parents treated her. At the time, I didn’t understand, of course, but later as I got older I forgave her. Sometimes we don’t know everything that’s going on with someone.”

  Jordan stared at the ground and shook her head. “I’m not sure I could ever let it go.”

  “What your dad did was horrible. No question. I’m not saying you should excuse his actions. It’s about letting go of the resentment and hurt for yourself, not him, so you can be at peace.”

  Jordan looked into Sophie’s clear blue eyes, which were filled with kindness. It was incredible how amazing she’d turned out, considering her difficult childhood. She was the most loving, giving woman Jordan had ever known.

  “Let’s not talk about my dad anymore.” Jordan forced a smile.

  “All right,” Sophie said quietly and nodded. “So, what’s on your festival agenda now?”

  Jordan hunkered down and glanced around for Mabel. “Hopefully nothing.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m on my way to say hello to Madame Butterfly. You should come with me.”

  “The psychic? No, thanks. That’s not really my thing.” Jordan chuckled.

  Sophie stood and grabbed Jordan’s arm, pulling her to her feet. “Still the skeptical type, I see. Come on. Live dangerously for once.” In a surprising move, Sophie linked arms with Jordan and tugged her down the sidewalk.

  “I don’t know about this.” Jordan protested, but with Sophie attached to her arm she was likely to follow her anywhere.

  *

  When Sophie opened the door to the psychic parlor, the scent of sage filled the air as candles flickered in the near darkness. Jordan squinted and placed a hand on Sophie’s shoulder, afraid she’d trip over a Buddha statue or something. As her vision adjusted to the lighting, she saw a humongous quartz crystal ball in the center of the room. Two chairs were placed around it, along with a fancy, high-back throne fit for a queen, which Jordan assumed was for Madame Butterfly.

  “Madame? Are you here?” Sophie glanced around the room. She turned to Jordan and started to say something but stopped. They were standing so close their noses almost touched. Jordan stared into sea-blue eyes until she dropped her gaze to Sophie’s sensuous lips. They were bright crimson, like maybe she’d just guzzled a Big Red soda pop or sucked on a strawberry Popsicle. Geez, could I be any less romantic? I should be comparing her lips to a rose petal. Sophie cleared her throat, which prompted Jordan to look back to her eyes.

  “Um, sometimes she’s in the back,” Sophie whispered.

  Jordan took an inordinately long time to respond, her mind a scramble of alphabet soup with Sophie so close. “What?”

  “Madame.”

  “Oh. Yeah. There’s a back?”

  “Behind the curtain. The one over there.” Sophie pointed but never took her eyes off Jordan.

  “Yeah. There’s usually always a back. I mean, our SOS office has a back. It’s…um…where we keep staplers and paper and…lots of stuff. Actually, it’s a closet, but it’s in the back.”

  “Sophie? Is that you?” A purple curtain swooshed open, just like in the Wizard of Oz, except that this wizard was a short, rotund woman. In fact, it was the same woman Jordan had run into on the street when she’d first arrived in Monarch. She wore the same indigo gown with gold swirls and had a scowl on her face that scared the crap out of Jordan. Within seconds, when she saw Sophie, the
frown transformed into a wide smile.

  “My dear, it’s so good to see you.” As Madame embraced Sophie, she stared Jordan up and down suspiciously. Jordan averted her gaze, looking anywhere except at the wizard.

  “It’s been far too long since you’ve been to see me. How have you been?”

  “Just fine. I’d like you to meet Jordan. She’s in town for a couple of months.”

  Madame perched glasses on the tip of her nose and regarded Jordan closely. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  Jordan turned to Sophie since she had a what-the-hell look on her face. “We ran into each other, literally, when I first arrived, but we haven’t been formally introduced.”

  Jordan wasn’t sure if she should shake hands or curtsey, considering the queen’s throne and all. Madame made the decision for her when she pulled Jordan into an embrace so tight it felt like she was squeezing the soul out of her. After what felt like a thirty-minute hug, Madame finally released her, allowing her to breathe again.

  “I knew your grandmother,” Madame Butterfly said.

  “My grandmother? As in Frances Lee?” Jordan found it hard to believe her grandmother associated with psychics.

  “She said you’d be coming to town.”

  “When did she―”

  “I give you a reading, yes?”

  “No! I mean, no thanks.”

  “I do.” Madame grabbed Jordan’s arm, pulled her to the crystal ball, and practically shoved her into one of the chairs. Sophie followed and sat beside Jordan as Madame perched on her throne.

  “Give me your hand,” Madame said.

  Jordan did as commanded, embarrassed that her fingers quivered. Madame lightly traced several lines in her palm. If Jordan hadn’t been so nervous, she would have giggled from the tickle. After grunting a few times, Madame closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Someone should really tell her that glittery green eye shadow had gone out in the 70s, along with that Aqua Net–drenched beehive hairdo. She wasn’t even a hip psychic. Jordan glanced at Sophie, who was staring intently into Jordan’s hand.

  Finally, Madame spoke without opening her eyes. “I see a brick wall that hides many secrets. There’s much isolation. Loneliness.” What? She can’t be reading me. I’m not isolated or lonely. “You’re homeless. You feel like an outcast, like you don’t belong. You pine for someone that you love but―”

  Jordan abruptly stood and pulled her hand away. “Wait a minute…wait a minute. I’m not homeless. I have an expensive condo in Beverly Hills. And I’m not lonely. I’m surrounded by people. Lots of famous people. And as for the love stuff, that’s just insanity.” Jordan knew she was coming on strong, but this woman was way off and needed to know it.

  “It’s what I see,” Madame said calmly.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but your crystal ball needs polishing. There’s no brick wall in my aura or energy or whatever you call it.” Jordan motioned around her as though knocking down an invisible wall.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “You didn’t offend me. You’re just wrong.” Jordan’s nostrils flared as heat rushed to her cheeks.

  Madame Butterfly paused before she turned her attention to Sophie. “Would you like a reading, dear?”

  Sophie looked at Jordan with confusion and uncertainty. “I think that might be enough for today. Maybe we should get going.”

  Jordan lowered her eyes, embarrassed by her outburst.

  Madame Butterfly rose and walked them to the door. “Come back soon. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Jordan.”

  “Yeah, likewise.” That didn’t sound convincing even to Jordan’s ears.

  Jordan and Sophie shielded their eyes as they stepped outside. The sun was a blinding spotlight after being in the candlelit room.

  “Sorry about my outburst,” Jordan said. “I wasn’t expecting a reading.”

  “Madame can be a little forceful sometimes, but her intentions are pure. I always find her insights to be accurate.”

  “Well, anyone can have an off day. That’s so weird that she knew my grandmother. Did you know they were friends?”

  “I had no idea. I didn’t think Frances was the sociable type.”

  They walked down Main Street, Jordan glad to see that the festival was winding down. The crowd had dispersed and booths were being dismantled. This was a day she’d rather forget.

  Sophie peered at Jordan out the corner of her eye. “Do you remember when you offered your SOS services? Well, I was thinking maybe I could take you up on that.”

  Jordan stopped. She couldn’t have been more surprised if Sophie had sprouted butterfly wings and flown away. “Really? Sure. Just let me know when you want to get together.”

  “Are you free tomorrow? Say around one o’clock at my cabin?”

  “That’d be great!” Jordan smiled widely, feeling lighter than she had in years. This day hadn’t turned out to be so bad after all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Soul-Mate Sunday

  Sophie studied her reflection in the mirror. Why, she wasn’t sure, because her makeup and hair looked exactly as it did fifteen minutes ago. She glanced at the clock. Maybe she had time to change. After trying on six outfits she’d settled on low-riding jeans, a turquoise T-shirt, and sandals. Was she too casual? Maybe she should wear that yellow sundress everyone said made her look so pretty. Jordan was from LA, land of the beautiful people. A bright sundress wouldn’t turn her head. Not that she wanted to impress her, of course, but she didn’t want to look like a slob either.

  Okay, Sophie could admit it. She was nervous. Why she’d invited Jordan over was beyond her. Seeing her again had caused a nonstop ache in the center of her chest, and she frequently wanted to cry for no apparent reason. Maybe she’d suggested they get together because of Madame Butterfly’s reading. As angry as Sophie was, she hated to think that Jordan was isolated and lonely. Plus, Madame had said that Jordan had secrets, which was intriguing. So, it wasn’t completely insane to invite her over, but it was totally insane to be tearing her closet apart looking for that sundress. Finally, Sophie gave up the search, deciding it made her look like a gigantic lemon anyway, and headed into the living room.

  “Hey, Mr. Limpet. How about I read our forecast for today?” Sophie grabbed the Monarch Messenger and thumbed to the love horoscopes. “You will be provided with an interesting opportunity to get to know someone in a new and different way. Everyone has sides of themselves that are hidden or rarely surface. If you keep an open mind, love could be just around the corner.”

  Sensing she was being watched, Sophie jerked her head up to see Jordan standing in the doorway with a grin and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Sophie had forgotten she’d opened the front door earlier to let a cool breeze into the cabin. Jordan leaned against the door frame, looking like a sexy Calvin Klein ad. Her blue-jean shirt was tucked into faded jeans, which hugged her hips perfectly. Jordan ran fingers through thick, wind-tossed hair, her sultry gaze never leaving Sophie. Good thing she hadn’t found that yellow sundress. It wouldn’t have been nearly hip enough.

  “I see you still read your horoscope,” Jordan said.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock? Or is that how it’s done in LA? You just burst into someone’s home without announcing yourself?”

  Jordan’s sexy grin didn’t falter. “First, there was no bursting, and second, your door was open. Is that how it’s done in the boondocks?”

  Sophie bit the inside of her cheek. “You can come in now, you know.”

  Jordan pushed off the door frame and strutted into the living room. This was a Jordan Sophie hadn’t experienced yet, the self-assured Jordan. The nervous, rambling one was easier to handle. This Jordan seemed…dangerous.

  “Did I hear that right? This little fellow’s name is Mr. Limpet?” Jordan tapped on the aquarium, which caused the betta fish to flare out his gills. Sophie wondered if Jordan would remember, and she didn’t have to wait long to find out. “From your favorite movie, right? T
he Incredible Mr. Limpet.”

  “Yeah. The one you never would watch with me. You really missed out, you know. It’s a Don Knotts classic.”

  “I almost rented it once. I had it in my hand, but…I dunno…” Jordan glanced around the cabin. “You’ve changed the place.”

  “I wanted to make it my own after I bought it from my aunt and uncle. I’ll give you a tour if you’d like.”

  Jordan followed Sophie as she led them through the cozy two-bedroom cabin. Sophie’s spiritual side shone through in every room, with crystals, incense, Buddha statues, and chakra paintings.

  “What’s this used for?” Jordan popped her head into a room that housed an altar, candles, an orange Himalayan salt lamp, and a colorful mandala painting on the wall.

  “I come in here to meditate or just relax. I didn’t need an extra bedroom since I don’t get many overnight guests.”

  “It’s nice. Feels calming.” Jordan walked to the center of the room and took a deep breath. “What’s that scent?”

  “Amber and lavender incense.”

  “I always did like that about you.” When Sophie looked at her questioningly, Jordan continued. “That you’re into spiritual stuff. It’s…cute.”

  “Cute?” Sophie asked.

  “That’s probably the wrong word. More like interesting, or maybe different, but in a good way.”

  As they walked down the hall, Sophie skipped her bedroom, but Jordan stopped and walked into it, with Sophie reluctantly following. It felt uncomfortable to have Jordan in her personal, intimate space. This was where she slept and had sex―occasionally. Jordan approached the bed and ran her fingertips across the light-gray silk comforter. Shivers cascaded from Sophie’s head straight to her groin as her pulse quickened. Geez, Sophie, you have to get laid, and soon. You’re getting turned on by a straight woman touching your bed. How pathetic is that?

  Jordan flinched as a black spider ran across the floor and stopped directly in front of her. She lifted her foot like she was about to stomp it with her shoe.