House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  “You don’t have to,” Mac said.

  24.

  C laire woke up the next morning in Mac’s bed, turning on her side to see what time it was.

  9:45 AM according to the clock on her phone.

  She placed the phone back on the nightstand and smiled at the soft snoring beside her.

  She carefully pushed the dark blue sheets and quilt off and sat up on the bed to have a quiet moment of reflection before Mac woke up.

  She glanced back at the sleeping officer admiring the slow rise and fall of his strong chest, with brown hair covering it and forming a triangle that went past his navel.

  He had one muscular arm behind his head, and with his head turned away from her. He’d been reading from his phone last night and fell asleep with it in his hand. Claire woke him up so he wouldn’t drop it, all the while laughing at how he held it like a teddy bear. He grumbled at her laughter saying it was a bad habit he developed when he bought his first smartphone.

  “It keeps me company, I guess,” he said when he plugged it in to charge and fell back to sleep.

  Claire stretched and thought this was the best night’s sleep she had since moving to Lingate and into her new home. The visions of her brother, the constant emotional roller coaster, were taking a toll on her health and Mac had to notice the bags underneath her eyes when they went out last night.

  Claire reached over to grab the butterfly brooch off the nightstand and sighed as she caressed the cool metal in the palm of her hand.

  She had no regrets, despite the effect this was having on her.

  She couldn’t. This was a fight for her brother’s soul. She wanted to win so he could rest and she could move on from her past.

  She sighed and glanced at him again. She thought about waking him up and confessing everything. Telling him what she’d been seeing inside the house, what she’d discovered so far to make her dig up her property.

  She knew he wouldn’t believe a word she said. He was a cop, and they needed cold hard facts. Yes, there were rare cases that detectives brought in psychics, but even she thought that was nonsense and Mac seemed like the type to think the same.

  Claire shivered and was brought out of her brooding thoughts when rough fingers caressed her arm and pushed her hair off her shoulder.

  She turned, plastering a small smile on her face as Mac adjusted in the bed.

  “Good Morning,” he said, sleep making his voice raspy.

  “Morning,” Claire said.

  Mac pulled his hand away and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he yawned and turned on his side to face her.

  “Have you been up long?”

  “Not long,” Claire answered.

  Claire put the brooch back on Mac’s nightstand and snuggled in beside his strong body, taking in his heat and thinking about how content she was lying there next to him. His arm pulled her closer with his hand resting on her shoulder.

  “Was that brooch your grandmother’s?” Mac asked.

  Claire opened her eyes lifted her head to gaze to Mac. His chocolate eyes were searching hers. How did she answer that question? She wasn’t ready to confess that the brooch was connected to David’s spirit.

  “I found it in Rose’s room. It triggered a memory of when David and I would run through the yard chasing butterflies in the summertime,” Claire turned lowered her head and Mac’s arm tightened around her. “She gave that to him to play with since he loved chasing them around the yard.”

  “That’s a great memory. It’s something you have to hold onto despite the tragedy,” Mac said.

  “Oh, yes. I want to keep that front and center,” Claire said. “The rest of my memories are still a blur.”

  She smiled when warm lips pressed against her forehead. “They’ll come to you eventually.”

  “I know.”

  “How about we get some coffee this morning?” Mac asked, nodding to make Claire agree with him.

  Claire laughed. “Still hung up on coffee, huh?”

  Mac rubbed his eyes in shame. “I swear I’m addicted to that shit.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Claire said.

  Claire started to move out of the bed but was held in place. She looked at Mac in confusion.

  His eyes turned hazy. His eyelids stayed half-closed. She smiled knowing what he wanted.

  “Put that need for caffeine aside a little while longer,” he whispered.

  “Can we negotiate this?” Claire asked with a laugh.

  Mac groaned and turned over on top of Claire. “No.” His answer was simple and stern.

  Claire opened her legs, letting Mac get between them. She felt his hard cock against her thigh and grinned when he moved and slipped it inside her.

  This was the most content and peaceful she felt for a long time. She hoped it would never end.

  ***

  Claire got out of the shower and dressed. Thankfully, Mac had an old hair dryer she could use while she was there. She had to wear the same clothes from last night. Mac asked her if she wanted to go home and change first, but she said she was fine. The thought of the coffee and treats made her mouth water and her stomach growl.

  While Mac was in the shower, Claire checked her emails and any messages.

  She’d been texting with her great-uncle Ben who was Mary’s brother and told him how things were coming along. She said she would call him during the weekend.

  Mac’s house was a two-bedroom ranch style not far from Kinsey House. The outside was a simple brick style with a one-car garage.

  Mac told her when he bought the house; he renovated it since he bought it dirt cheap from an auction.

  Claire was impressed with the renovations. She sat at the kitchen table and admired the gray marble countertops, gray cabinets, and soft sky lighting.

  Most of the house was the same stormy gray color and Claire liked it.

  Claire stood and walked out to the living room. Her gaze turned to the white brick fireplace to take a closer look.

  It caught her eye the night before, but she didn’t comment on it. She didn’t want to upset their mood and thought it would be better when Mac was ready to explain the shrine to his stillborn son.

  Claire walked over to read the memorial announcement and gazed at the picture.

  There were two candles on either side of a black and white picture, with a picture of Jesus Christ hanging above it.

  A tiny pair of booties sat in front of it and Claire’s eyes turned sympathetic as she stared at the small shrine.

  A memorial announcement sat next to the picture with tiny footprints and Jacob’s name engraved on heavy paper inside an elegant frame.

  The main picture in the center was what drew Claire’s eyes. It was Mac kissing Jacob’s forehead. The picture showed Mac’s face and the top of Jacob’s forehead with a snatch of dark hair at the top.

  The bottom picture showed a tiny hand holding a man’s wedding ring. Claire was surprised by the picture. It was very moving and very heartbreaking.

  Claire couldn’t fathom what that kind of loss felt like. She couldn’t imagine the excitement suddenly turning to heartbreak within minutes or seconds when you hear that kind of news. Knowing that you’ll never see your child laugh or cry. Never see them grow and thrive. The gift of life ripped from a parent before their child had a chance to experience in this world.

  That’s what Mac and Claire had in common. A mutual loss of a family member so young that the pain and the agony of their loss would never leave them for the rest of their lives.

  “Julie has the other half,” Mac said from behind Claire.

  Claire turned around to see the handsome officer in a new pair of jeans that hugged his hips perfectly, a black long sleeve t-shirt that defined every muscle on his torso and arms.

  “The other half?” Claire asked.

  “The other half of the picture where she’s kissing Jacob’s head and her ring was on his hand,” Mac said, his eyes turning sad.

  Claire walked over and wrapped her
arms around his shoulders in sympathy and comfort. “I wish I could find the words to say.”

  Mac pulled away enough to look at her. His eyes turning to stone. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ve been through hell, but my life is finally turning around.”

  Claire nodded, and they hugged for a few moments.

  When they made love the night before, Claire noticed the tattoo on his right shoulder with Jacob’s name and birthdate surrounded by wings.

  She thought she might get one of David.

  “Are you finally ready for coffee?” Mac asked, but his eyes were on the shrine.

  Claire smiled knowing the mood would lighten once they left the house. “I am so ready.”

  Claire was glad the heaviness in the air dissipated once they left the house, but she was grateful that Mac trusted her enough to tell her his story about Jacob up front and didn’t sugarcoat what he did to his ex-wife. She hoped she would trust him enough to tell him about her visions of her past and brother soon.

  The couple pulled up into the bakery parking lot. It was nearly noon, but the place was packed.

  “This is a typical Sunday,” Mac commented. “I usually avoid it.”

  Claire caught the different license plates from other states and thought that Shirley must have had a great marketing team to attract this kind of business on a Sunday.

  Mac further commented and said this was not only tourists but the church folk coming from Sunday Mass.

  Mac held open the door as they walked in. Just as Claire thought, the place was jumping. It was warm in the shop, almost too hot from all the bodies taking up spaces, the heat from the goods baking in the back of the store and the hot coffee being served to patrons.

  Claire could see the regulars huddled in their respective corner while tourists and churchgoers occupied the rest of the store.

  “There’s a table open over there,” Mac said pointing to an empty spot in the middle.

  “Do you want to grab it and—” Claire started reaching for her handbag.

  “No, no, no,” Mac said stopping her. “Freebies.”

  “Let me leave the tip,” Claire protested.

  Mac leaned in and whispered, “No. I’ve got it.”

  “Come on…”

  “No.”

  Claire scoffed while Mac’s face turned amused. “Better get that table before we have to sit outside in the cold.”

  Mac turned and walked to the counter leaving Claire looking silly standing in the middle of the shop shaking her head.

  Claire turned to grab the table, but she was looking for Shirley. She didn’t see the older owner but thought she was probably running around in the back trying to get more pastries to the front.

  Claire’s eyes scanned the shop and settled on one person.

  Her mouth dropped open when she spotted the old police officer Jack staring back at her.

  She didn’t know if she should say something to him, or what.

  His cloudy eyes were disapproving, and his mouth turned down in a deep frown.

  They held each other’s gaze and Claire decided she would not let the old man intimidate her, so she stood her ground—er—her seat and her eyes held his stare. Neither blinked with each passing second from their personal standoff.

  If he knew something, he should tell her straight out what he knew and not play games with her emotions. She didn’t like vague answers and from the looks of it he would not cough them up today either.

  Another man caught Jack’s attention and he broke eye contact with her.

  Although he broke the eye contact first, Claire continued to stare at him on purpose. She wanted him to know she wasn’t afraid of him and that if he wanted to say something he could approach her to say it. That man knew something. He obviously knew Rose and the rest of Claire’s family.

  Claire only took her eyes off the old man when Mac set down their food and drinks and set himself down in the chair across from her.

  25.

  “A re you okay?” Mac asked.

  Mac set down the coffee cups and grabbed some cream and sugar for Claire.

  Mac was waiting for their breakfast sandwiches and held a ticket with a number in his hand.

  Claire nodded and leaned in to ask, “Do you know the old man over there? The one with the yellow jacket and beige pants?”

  Mac turned around to see whom Claire was talking about and said, “Do you mean Jack Carpenter? He was a police officer, but retired long before I joined the force.”

  “I met him the other day when I stopped by after my appointment with George and he said he knew my grandmother, but he was kind of hostile,” Claire explained.

  Mac’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. With a confused look on his face, he turned and glanced at the old man again, and then turned back to Claire saying, “Jack? I’ve known him for years, and he’s kind of grumpy but I’ve never known him to be hostile.”

  Both of them quieted when the waitress delivered their breakfast sandwiches. Claire and Mac both ordered a sausage, egg, and cheese on a homemade biscuit. It came recommended from Mac who said Shirley’s biscuits were the best in town.

  Claire slipped the waitress a hefty tip, and the girl walked away beaming making Claire smile.

  “You’re going to spoil them,” Mac commented with a raised eyebrow.

  Claire shrugged. “Like I told Shirley, it’s worth it. I’ve been there. My grandparents were already struggling when they had to bring home a six-year-old girl to raise when they should have been thinking about retirement.”

  Claire smiled at the memory as she looked down at the sandwich. The biscuit looked so tender and fluffy, that Claire couldn’t wait to take a bite.

  “You’re right.”

  Mac looked around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. The other people surrounding them paid them no mind.

  “Back to old Jack. Did he say anything rude to you? I’ve never seen him anything but polite. Grouchy, but never hostile.”

  “Maybe he didn’t like my grandmother or maybe he did and thinks I’m something like a gold digger,” Claire said.

  She took a bite of the sandwich and thought she died and went to biscuit heaven. The biscuit was buttery, flaky, and tender. The sausage had the right amount of spice, and the egg melted in her mouth.

  “Claire, you need to get over that. People are going to talk. No matter how much this town grows, that mentality will always linger,” Mac said.

  The couple quieted while they finished their sandwiches. Mac rubbed his mouth with a napkin. An older man Claire hadn’t seen before came into the shop and spotted Mac.

  They exchanged pleasantries and Mac introduced Claire. The man’s name was Roger.

  “That’s my dad’s friend from high school,” Mac commented when the man walked away.

  “Small towns,” Claire said.

  “Yep.” Mac glanced around again to make sure no one was listening. “There’s a rumor that Jack and your grandmother had an affair going at one time. I don’t remember where I heard it, but apparently, your great-grandparents wanted to her marry according to her class.”

  “Are you saying that Rose and my grandfather were a loveless marriage?” Claire asked.

  “That’s the rumor. Jack never married. He’s always been a bachelor.”

  Claire shook her head in frustration, but on the inside, these kinds of towns were a bastion of secrets.

  It would explain Jack’s attitude… or would it? Was she a reminder of what he lost so long ago? Or did he think she was stealing Rose’s money? Was he bitter from past rejection?

  “What?”

  “I’m so happy that I have to hear about my family history from other people,” Claire took a sip of her coffee. “No offense. Anyway, anything else to the rumor?”

  “None taken. Not that I’m aware of,” Mac said twisting his face in thought. Claire thought that look was adorable on him.

  This news might explain a lot to Claire. She would love to sit down
and have a conversation with Jack and see why he said the things he said to her the other day.

  She didn’t want curious ears to overhear their conversation.

  As Claire schemed inwardly to put her plan in action, Shirley appeared at their side.

  Her face was flushed from what Claire guessed was running around all morning to service her customers. Her polo shirt had a light dusting of white powder all over it, and her apron had a rainbow of stains.

  “You know, when I saw Mac here giving you directions last week, I thought to myself what a pretty couple y’all would make, and here you are,” Shirley said with a grin.

  Claire blushed, but she noted that Mac didn’t react. Not even the inkling of a smile on his face. She thought that was strange, she thought he liked Shirley.

  “Thanks, Shirley,” Claire finally said.

  “I’d hug ya, but look at me,” Shirley said turning to Claire.

  Claire smiled and said, “You look like you’re busy.”

  Shirley ran a hand through her short hair and said, “They keep me running on days like today, but the more business the better.”

  “Besides,” Shirley said turning to Mac. “I have the best protection in the state right here. I give them free food and coffee and they stop by here to check on us.”

  Claire turned to Mac and noticed his eyes darting between herself and Shirley.

  “I appreciate that,” Mac said.

  Claire narrowed her eyes at his cold tone wondering why he was reacting to Shirley like that.

  When she first came in here a week ago to get directions, Mac was so much more relaxed with Shirley and treated her like an old friend.

  What changed?

  She averted her eyes back to Shirley, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice. She liked Shirley and looked forward to having lunch with her. She felt so familiar to Claire, like an old blanket that you snuggled into on a cold winter night.

  Shirley turned back to Claire and said, “You better stop spoiling those girls.”

  Claire laughed. “I know what it’s like, so no, I won’t stop spoiling them.”

  Shirley sighed. “Your grandma did the same thing when she was in a good mood.”