Waiting for Butterflies

by Karen Sargent

  “Well what, Rachel? Am I having a hard time letting go of your mom?” Sam’s voice broke. “What do you want me to say? Of course, I am.” Silence surrounded the table.

  When Sam spoke again, his voice was confident. “But that’s not why I’m buying the house. Really, I don’t know if I can even explain why. I just know it’s what I need to do. And it’s what I should have done a long time ago, when your mom wanted to. But it’s not about hanging on to your mom.” Sam looked down and twisted the platinum band around his ring finger. His voice was soft. “Somehow it’s about letting her go.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Well, good luck with that!” She turned and stormed away from the table.

  Maggie placed her hand over Sam’s, sensing his warmth, his strength. She didn’t understand it either, why Sam had chosen this point in time to buy the Hitching house, but that didn’t stop her tears. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”

  Olivia got down from her chair and put her hand on Sam’s chest to push him back from the table. Sam made room for her and lifted her to his lap. She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Sam squeezed her back.

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “For what, sweetie?”

  “For making Mommy happy.”

  Olivia pulled away from the embrace and found his eyes. He stared back. For the second time that evening, Maggie wondered what he was thinking.

  His voice was cautious, almost a whisper. “Is Mommy happy?”

  A smile captured Olivia’s face and her blond curls bounced as she answered with a single exaggerated nod.

  Sam pulled Olivia back into his embrace. Maggie rose and stood beside them, her arms enveloping them both.

  CHAPTER 16

  “I want this one to go up high, but I can’t reach. Can you do it for me, Aunt Erin?” Olivia stretched on tip-toe with a crystal snowflake ornament in her hand. “Right there by the blue light. That will make the snowflake sparkly!”

  “Sure, honey, how’s that?”

  “Perfect!”

  As her sister and aunt decorated the Scotch pine the family picked out at the tree farm that afternoon, Rachel removed lids from plastic storage containers, persistent in her search to find her mother’s snow globes.

  “They’re not here.” She made the announcement again, trying desperately to recruit her dad to join her search, but he was occupied with unraveling strands of outdoor lights.

  “Have you checked every box?”

  As her dad glanced her way, Rachel waved her arm toward the plastic lids and exposed containers surrounding her.

  “Well, that’s every box I could find in the basement. That’s all of it.”

  “It can’t be all of it.” Rachel couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice. She had to find the snow globes. As she surveyed the living room, nothing was right. Aunt Erin put the old lights with the big colored bulbs on the tree, and her dad didn’t even say anything about it. Her mom hated those lights. Only the clear blinky lights go on the tree. And the garland was gold and fake and ugly that her dad found in an old box, not the homemade popcorn and cranberry garland she and her mom and Olivia made every year. Her dad didn’t know how to pop popcorn the old fashioned way he said. But it was tradition. Their tradition. How could they skip the garland? And now nobody cared about the snow globes, her mom’s collection that grew by one every year as they searched after-Christmas clearance sales for the perfect bargain. What else would decorate the mantle, the coffee table, the end tables? Rachel needed to find the tiny, serene worlds captured in balls of glass that her mom would scatter around the room. Defeated, she sat down among the open containers and listened as Olivia told Aunt Erin about various ornaments.

  “This one is a birthday cake for Baby Jesus I made in Sunday School.” Olivia displayed a paper cutout hanging from a loop of yarn. “And this is a seashell we found on vacation. Mommy glued this string on it and made it an ornament.”

  “How pretty.” Aunt Erin made a serious face. “This is a very beautiful tree you have decorated, Miss Olivia.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not pretty like the fancy matchymatchy trees in the stores. Mommy says our tree is a memory Christmas tree because our ornaments are memories, and we get to remember every year when we decorate it.”

  “Like this one.” Aunt Erin held up a glass icicle. “This was my mom’s ornament, your grandma’s. When I was a little girl, our tree had lots of these icicle ornaments.”

  “See? Isn’t it fun remembering that?” Olivia hung the seashell on the tree.

  Aunt Erin’s lips pressed together. “Yeah, sweetie. It makes me a little sad because I miss my mom, and your mom, but I like remembering, too.”

  The room grew still. Rachel watched as Aunt Erin hung the glass icicle and admired it, her head tilted to the right, her arms crossed in front of her. Even though her aunt was her mom’s sister, Rachel never thought they looked very much alike. But standing as she was, if her hair were a few shades darker. . . .

  Rachel didn’t know why. Maybe because it was Christmas. Maybe because she was tired of constantly fighting the pain. But instead of strangling the longing that stirred inside her, she allowed it open like a tiny bud beginning to blossom. She studied Aunt Erin’s silhouette in the glow of the Christmas tree and imagined, instead, her mom standing before an art piece Rachel just finished, thoughtfully admiring it, telling Rachel how proud she was of her talent. For a moment, she remembered what it was like to have a mom. A breath later, the feeling was lost as if it never existed.

  Sam watched Rachel quietly leave the room, debating whether to stop her or to follow her. He knew this was a difficult night for her, for all of them. He had spent the last two months as a full-time dad trying to master when to push Rachel and when to back off. Tonight he decided she might need some time alone.

  “How’s she doing?” Erin placed another ornament on the tree.

  Earlier that afternoon Sam was irritated when an unexpected doorbell interrupted the football game on TV, but he couldn’t express how relieved he was to see his sister-in-law on the other side of the door, loaded down with a suitcase and Christmas presents. He wouldn’t have to get the girls, or himself, through the holiday alone.

  “Rachel’s doing as well as she can manage, I suppose. But better, I think, although I wonder how much is genuine and how much is just to appease me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, her grades are coming back up, and although she still spends too much time alone in her room, at least when she’s with us she doesn’t seem so angry. She’s doing enough to keep me off her case, but she doesn’t really talk to me. And I’m not sure if she has friends anymore. The only real communicating she does is on that stupid laptop.”

  “You mean like chatting?”

  Sam heard the concern in Erin’s voice. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. I know. It worries me. How can she tell total strangers what she can’t tell me?”

  “Sam, you can’t—”

  “I know what you’re going to say.” He stopped untangling a strand of lights and looked at her. “But I monitor what she’s doing, who she’s talking to. I’m a detective, don’t forget.”

  “Does she know you’re. . . ?” Erin’s voice faded.

  “What, spying on her? I don’t think so, but quite frankly, I don’t care if she does.”

  Erin cleared her throat. “Well, uh, do you think it’s okay? I mean, what you’re doing? I’m not a parent, but I was a teenage girl. Isn’t there some boundary you’re crossing?”

  Sam prepared to defend himself, although he’d wondered the same thing in the beginning. “First of all, Rachel often leaves the site open. When her computer hibernates, all I have to do is hit a key and everything appears. If she were so concerned about her privacy, she would do a better job protecting it. But more importantly, as a father, I have to know what my daughter is going through. With the way she keeps her feelings all inside, this website has been a lifeline for us both. She chats,
and I get an insight into what she is thinking and feeling. Honestly, I don’t know where either of us would be right now without it.” Sam hesitated before asking, but he wanted to know. “Do you think it’s wrong?”

  During the few moments of silence before Erin’s response, he was surprised at how much he wanted to hear her opinion, whether she agreed or not. Parenting alone was so difficult.

  “Nope.”

  “No?” Somehow that wasn’t the answer he expected.

  “Your motives are pure, Sam. You’re not trying to control her life or catch her doing something wrong. You’re trying to protect her, and right now, with the way she has shut people out, this is the only option she has given you.”

  Sam was surprised as his throat tightened. Warmth filled his eyes, and he turned away so Erin wouldn’t see. Hoping his voice would sound normal, he said, “Thank you.”

  “Hey, Dad, look.”

  Sam laid down the strand of lights he had been wrestling and hurried to relieve Rachel of the large container she carried into the living room.

  “You found Mom’s snow globes!” Olivia cheered.

  “No. I mean, yes. But, Dad—”

  A plea in Rachel’s voice caught Sam. It was then that he noticed the path of fresh tears staining her cheeks. Rachel lifted a thick file that lay on top of the container.

  “I found this.”

  There was only one other place Rachel could think to search for the snow globes, her mother’s closet. If they weren’t in the basement with the rest of the Christmas decorations, the closet was the only other logical place they could be. But she couldn’t imagine opening the door that had been closed for months and walking into a miniature room where she would be surrounded by the very essence of her mom.

  As she gripped the door knob, the coolness of the metal disappeared into the heat of her palm. She squeezed tightly, willing her hand to turn, her arm to push, her feet to walk—until she found herself inside. The faint scent of her mom’s perfume still lingered on the clothes, ushering in memories: how grown up she felt as a little girl when her mom shared her expensive perfume on special occasions; the smell of the car when her mom picked her up after school; her scent as she kissed Rachel for the last time before she hurried out the door. Rachel braced herself for tears, but they didn’t come. She ran her hands across the clothes hanging lifeless in front of her, picturing her mom in the tweed jacket or the purple blouse or her favorite summer dress. Still no tears. She was relieved.

  Then she remembered her mission. The snow globes. Boxes on the shelves would be too small to hold them, so she searched the closet floor. In the back corner she spotted a container identical to the ones her dad brought up from the basement. As she pulled the container toward her, it tipped forward, dumping a stack of papers at her feet. Frustrated at the inconvenience, Rachel grabbed the scattered contents and shoved them back into their folder. It wasn’t until she closed the cover that she realized what the folder contained. In her mother’s handwriting were the words Bed and Breakfast. Rachel gently opened the folder and searched the pages inside—notes, pictures, fabric swatches, paint chips. In her hands she held her mother’s dream. And then the tears came.

  “What is this?” Sam took the folder from Rachel.

  “What is it, Daddy?” Olivia echoed.

  Sam glanced from Rachel to the folder. He traced the letters on the cover and quickly thumbed through the first few pages inside. “Is this?”

  Rachel began to shake with sobs. Erin rushed to her and wrapped her arms around her.

  Numbly Sam sat down and began sifting through the contents, oblivious to Olivia’s repeating question. As he deciphered Maggie’s handwriting, followed her arrows that pointed to pictures, touched the samples of fabric, Sam had the beginnings of a vision. When he looked up to answer Olivia’s question, tears filled his eyes.

  “These are Mommy’s plans for the Hitching house, Livi.”

  Erin cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but, I don’t understand. The Hitching house? You mean that old place Maggie talked about?”

  “Yep, that old place.” Olivia nodded.

  “Yeah.” Sam said. “I bought it.”

  “What?” Erin’s arms dropped to her side as stared at him. “Are you kidding?”

  He laughed. How could he explain what he really didn’t understand himself? “Well, if I’m gonna retire, I need something to keep me busy—besides the girls, that is. I sold part of the real estate business to finance it.”

  The expression on Erin’s face begged for more information.

  Certain he would create more questions than he would answer, Sam continued. “When the idea first hit me, it was kind of an impulse, but it seemed like the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “But when I closed on it a few weeks ago, the reality of it sank in. The dream was Maggie’s, not mine. Without her vision, I had no idea where to begin. I started thinking I’d made a big mistake.”

  “But now?” Rachel whispered.

  Sam gripped the file, trying to read his daughter’s face. Was she still accusing him of trying too hard to hang on to Maggie? “But now I have Mom’s vision, literally.” He reached for Rachel’s hand and squeezed. When she squeezed back, Sam closed his eyes, relishing the connection she had not allowed him to feel in months.

  Olivia poked his shoulder. “Daddy.”

  “Yeah, Sweetie?”

  “Mommy says Merry Christmas.”

  The room was silent. Sam pulled Olivia onto his lap and kissed her cheek. He looked at Rachel, at Erin, and then at the glowing tree.

  “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

  Maggie hadn’t been this sad in weeks, even as she sat on the sidelines, forced to accept the inner battles her family fought. But this night, as Christmas came to life inside her home, her separation from her family was too much. How she wished she could join Olivia as she rummaged through boxes of decorations, or pop popcorn so Rachel could make her garland, or hug her sister for the rare gift of leaving her office for the holidays. But most of all, at this moment, she wished she could make herself known to Sam.

  She was so grateful for the connection she had with her youngest daughter, but often her attempts to prompt Olivia to communicate for her were frustrating. She had to remind herself her child didn’t possess the capacity to understand or express complex adult emotions. Olivia couldn’t tell Sam how proud Maggie was that he was trying so hard to be the father he wanted to be, or thank him for being patient when Olivia talked about her, or to her, or for her. She wanted to tell Sam she realized how difficult it was for him to know when to allow Rachel room to work through her grief and anger when years in law enforcement had developed his desire to control every situation.

  And she wanted so badly to be a part of renovating the Hitching house, but she couldn’t. Aside from him having her conglomeration of ideas in a tattered folder, he had to do it on his own. But more important than all of it, Maggie wanted desperately to warn Sam. He was right. Rachel was isolating herself from friends. When she replaced Kristen with that girl Cricket, Maggie was worried about the changes she saw in her daughter. But now, Rachel had replaced Cricket, and leaving that website open was only a ploy to keep Sam from snooping into her real online activity.

  The ache in Maggie’s chest ran deep. She listened as Olivia’s sweet voice sang “Away in a Manger” and watched as Rachel arranged snow globes around the living room. Rachel unpacked another globe and walked to the mantel where Maggie stood.

  “This is the one we got after Christmas last year.” She shook it and placed it next to a stocking holder, pushing it back to make sure it rested securely on the mantle like Maggie had taught her.

  Maggie watched the fake snow swirl and fall on the tiny ice skaters inside the glass. She used to be mesmerized by the little depictions of happiness preserved inside a world of beauty and serenity. But now, as she placed her hand on the glass globe, she felt alone, trapped inside her own little world. The ache inside her grew claws. She imagined
heaving the glass globe on the stone hearth beneath her.

  A loud crash startled her. Both girls screamed.

  “What the—?” Sam turned suddenly in Maggie’s direction.

  Maggie looked down to discover what everyone else in the room already knew. The snow globe lay shattered in a puddle on the floor. How?

  “I’m sorry!” Rachel began to cry as Erin rushed to pick up the pieces.

  “It’s okay, honey.” Sam looked from her to the debris. “It was just an accident. You must not have put it all the way on the mantel.”

  “But—I did, Dad. I’m sure I did. I checked to make sure it wouldn’t fall. I put it right here.” Rachel reenacted placing the globe.

  A puzzled look crossed his face as he walked toward her.

  “Right there?” He pointed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Then how did—?”

  Sam didn’t finish the question. But Maggie knew what he was going to ask. How did the globe end up smashed on the other end of the hearth?

  CHAPTER 17

  “This place is going to be magnificent.” Erin sat at the top of the staircase beside Sam holding Maggie’s folder open on his lap. She pointed to the paint chip Maggie had marked foyer. “Look at this color, and she wants it in satin finish. See how the light is going to come through the front door and windows and reflect off the paint? She had such a good eye for seeing past the flaws, all the hard work, to find the potential.”

  Sam laughed. “I think that’s the only reason she married me.” He joked, but he wondered how far he was from being the husband Maggie envisioned when she said I do all those years ago. Did the work she put into their relationship produce the potential she had hoped for? Sam knew his flaws, his failings. Maggie deserved more. He looked at the house around him, at Maggie’s dreams he held in his hands. Rebuilding a man wasn’t like rebuilding a house. Besides, it was too late for Sam to be the man Maggie had deserved. Fixing up the Hitching house was the only way Sam knew how to be that man, if only she were still here.