There I went again. Who knew I could ramble like this? Perhaps that’s what happened after so many years of not talking to people. I sat up. “Anyway, I should get back to studying. Shouldn’t you be busy planning your wedding or something?”
“My—?” His brows drew together. “Oh, no.” He laughed. “Heck, no. It’s not my wedding.” He appeared almost horrified at the thought. “The bride’s special to me and all, but not like that. She’s a relative. I didn’t want to get her something off her registry, figured I’d get something a little more . . . creative.”
“Butterflies.”
“Yep.”
A feeling, soft and shimmery as a gossamer-winged butterfly, flitted through me. I stood, wandered to the bush, and realized I hadn’t even smelled the flowers yet. I leaned in for a quick whiff, then lingered in the irresistible scent.
Harvey appeared beside me, reached out, and snapped off a small blooming branch.
I eyed the broken twig, slightly concerned. The tiny bush didn’t have many branches to spare. “Why’d you do that?”
“Don’t worry, the bush’ll be fine.” He offered me the blooming branch. “Bring it inside with you and put it in a glass. It should last a day or two. Your indoor butterflies might like it.”
Slowly, careful to touch only the woody stem, not the delicate flowers, I accepted it.
I met his eyes and willed my voice to sound firm. “I’m not changing my mind about the butterflies.”
“I hear you.” He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, yet I sensed he was nowhere near admitting defeat.
Taking a step back, he aimed his finger at me. “I’ll leave you to your studying. Have fun.”
I smiled and nodded. My hair brushed my neck, the strands already drying in the hot sun. “I will.”
Though maybe not quite as much fun as I’d just had.
Chapter 4
Harvey popped into my mind at random times the next day, bringing a smile to my face as I swept my floor, watered potted plants, and edited butterfly pictures. But when I became absorbed in studying, I soon forgot all about him.
The next day, the same. He crossed my mind as I swept my porch and perused my yard for butterflies, but when I sat in a lawn chair with my laptop, intriguing insect data took over.
The pink butterfly bush lived up to its name and attracted the beautiful creatures frequently, affording me plenty of new photo ops and pictures, which I shared with Jess. And when we chatted online, the contrast to in-person conversation suddenly stood out to me. Her friendship had helped me through some tough times, yet something about our relationship was still lacking, still not quite as real as it could be.
Great pics. That butterfly bush new? she asked, ever astute to any change in my life.
It is. I hesitated over the letter I on my keyboard, then decided not to lie. I ended up with an ungrammatical fragment: Planted it a couple days ago.
Butterfly-man been back to bug you? A second later, an animated laughing emoticon appeared. Jess loved stupid puns.
Butterfly-man? I rolled my eyes. There was a nickname any guy would appreciate. Though perhaps not quite on par with butterfly recluse, it hovered in that realm.
Hello??????
My fingers started typing rapidly. Sorry. Still busy groaning over your pitiful pun.
You know you love ’em. So? Did the guy come back?
Once, I admitted. The next day, still hoping to buy some butterflies.
And?
I told him no, of course. My turn to insert an emoticon. I chose a smiley face.
~
The cutting from the butterfly bush became withered, the petals crunchy. I tossed it in the trash under my kitchen sink, then glanced out my window.
Something about the live shrub bursting with color brightened my spirits, and I was happy with my decision to plant it in that spot. It was perfect.
A monarch swooped down and sipped some nectar for lunch, and I gazed for a moment before preparing my own lunch, a simple ham and Swiss sandwich with a Bartlett pear on the side.
After my meal, I dropped my camera strap around my neck and headed outside in search of a new picture.
My goal each day was to snap at least one new image worthy of uploading to the stock-photo site. I made sales only sporadically, so it was a good thing I didn’t have to rely on this income to pay bills. My home was mortgage-free, and my bank account was comfortable.
I wished it wasn’t.
The price that had been paid to get here was much too high.
Shoving the grim thought away, I inhaled the fresh air and refocused my mind.
Photography was more my hobby than true work, but I was grateful for it. I loved sharing pictures of butterflies with the world, helping others appreciate their beauty. Any earnings were mere nectar in the flower, so to speak.
My lips twitching in amusement, I strolled down my long driveway while eying the trees on either side. Green summer leaves hung thick from the branches, twirling and flickering in the wind like thousands of jade butterfly wings.
At my mailbox, I kept my back to the road. When a roaring rumble approached out of nowhere, I snatched my mail and turned.
A motorcycle appeared around a bend moments before swooping to my side. The noise assaulted my eardrums, and I stepped back to my driveway, nerves firing.
The rider removed his helmet to reveal a familiar grin. “Well, isn’t this a coincidence?” Harvey yelled over the ferocious engine noise.
“It’s not a coincidence. You know where I live, and—” And it was no use. I could barely hear my own voice. I shook my head and covered my ears.
“What? Too loud?” He cut the engine. “That better?”
A little.
His booted feet supported his weight while he remained on the bike. “Surprised to see me again?”
I found it difficult to focus on him with the motorcycle so close. Trying not to recoil, I swallowed. “Surprised you’re still trying to convince me to sell you butterflies.”
He studied me. “Will I get a different answer today?”
“Nope, sorry.” I squared the envelopes in my hand, making all the edges even.
“Too soon, then, huh?” He tapped his helmet. “Figured I’d give you a few days to reconsider. But I’m running out of time here. Help a guy out.”
I pushed the corners of the envelopes into my palm. “All you have to do is order a gift off the registry. Honestly, she’ll like that. She wants those things.”
“But she wants the butterflies more.”
A trickle of sweat snaked down my back. “A few butterflies aren’t going to make or break anything.”
“A few, no. A few hundred, yes.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
He shrugged. “I dream big. Sally’s worth it.”
“Well, she must be. You sure are determined.”
“I try.” He set the bike’s kickstand, then looped his helmet on the handle and hopped to the ground. “That’s quite a camera you’ve got. Mind if I check it out?”
I stepped back, protectiveness washing over me.
“Only if you don’t mind,” he added.
I hesitated. My Nikon was precious, but his request was reasonable. Sensing he’d be careful, I offered him the camera.
“Sweet.” He looked it over, touching buttons, adjusting the lens. “This thing must take great pictures. Mind if I try one?”
“Go ahead.”
He aimed the lens my way and snapped my picture without even a “say cheese” warning. I blushed and tucked my hair behind my ears. “Not me. It’s for nature pictures, the trees, the sky, the flowers, the—”
“Butterflies. Right.” He peered at the digital screen. “But look at that. Amazing. I took a picture of you, and it worked.” He squinted. “I even—almost—got a smile.” His brow lifted teasingly. “One more? A full smile this time?”
Flustered, I reached for the camera. As he playfully evaded my grasp, his fingers fumbled a
nd my stomach lurched.
The camera dropped from his hands and crashed to the pavement—landing with a shattering sound.
Harvey sucked in a breath, then shot me an anxious glance.
“That’s why I always wear the strap.” I forced the words through strangled emotions and dropped to my knees, grief building.
I released my mail and retrieved the broken camera before tenderly turning it and examining the cracked lens. A jagged spiderweb of damage covered the entire surface.
An urge to cry swept over me, and when I spotted a scattering of rocks along the road, I wanted to pick them up and hurl them at Harvey’s perfect bike, see how he liked it.
“Hey.” His hand landed gently on my shoulder. “I-I’m really sorry.”
I heaved in some air and made myself nod.
He spoke softly. “Can I take a look at it?”
Wasn’t that how I’d gotten into this mess in the first place?
But it didn’t really matter what he did with it now. I tipped the camera into his palms, feeling as if I were surrendering a piece of myself.
I waited, not knowing what for. Something inside me twisted and ached.
Harvey inspected the camera silently for a long minute. “I’ll buy you a new one. An even better one. The memory card from this one is fine, so you didn’t lose your pictures.”
He looked at me, serious and concerned. “How does that sound?”
I snagged the corner of my lip between my teeth and bit down before answering. “I guess . . .”
“You don’t have to wait for it, either. I’ll take care of this today. It’s the least I can do. I know a great place outside of town, Stewart’s Cameras. They have the best.”
He turned to his motorcycle. “Hop on, I’ll take you there.”
He had to be joking. “Right now? On—” I swept my gaze over the two-wheeled hunk of noisy metal—“on that?”
Chapter 5
Sure.” Harvey gave me a “why not?” look.
“No way.” I shook my head. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
“You’ll be plenty comfortable. The seat’s soft—”
“I mean I wouldn’t feel safe.”
“I know what you meant.” His shadowed smile implied he thought I didn’t know how to take a joke. Of course I did. This just wasn’t the time or place.
He noticed my feet and cocked his head. “All you need to do is put on some shoes.”
All I need to do is walk away.
He glanced back at the bike. “Know what? You’re right. I don’t have another helmet with me, anyway, so that plan won’t work.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet mine. “I’m assuming you’ve got a car?”
“Yes, but . . .” I averted my eyes. “Right now’s really not a good time. Or any time today, for that matter.” I gathered the forgotten envelopes off the ground. “I have to sort my mail, start a load of laundry, and it’s Thursday, so I have to place my weekly grocery order.”
Did I really just say all that out loud? It had never sounded so silly in my head. I should have simply said I needed to study.
But I was also thinking about how on Thursdays I always chatted with Jess at four o’clock sharp.
I glanced at Harvey warily, afraid to see pity. Or worse, ridicule.
But I couldn’t read his expression. He stared, then moved till he stood by my side. He spoke over my shoulder. “One invitation from the Association of Retired Persons . . .”
My gaze snapped to the envelopes in my hands.
“. . . one advertisement for an overrated credit card, and one from a dentist promising to fix your smile . . .”
I shielded the last piece of mail so he couldn’t keep reading.
“Can’t know for sure, but I think that last envelope wasn’t any more pressing than the others. Just saying.” He shrugged. “And as for fixing your smile, don’t let anyone mess with it. The only thing that needs fixing is how often you use it.” His strong gaze assessed me, warming me.
My lips pressed together, not knowing how to respond.
Harvey’s boots crunched stray roadside gravel as he shifted his feet. “I thought a camera was important to you. Maybe I was wrong. I guess if you’re that busy, I can just give you the money for a new one.” He set the camera on the grass, then opened his wallet. “Again, I’m really sorry.”
I inhaled in time to my beating heart. “Wait.” I cleared my throat and swallowed. “I guess I could change my plans, if now is what works for you.”
His furrowed brow smoothed. He closed his wallet, stuck it back in his pocket, and smiled.
“But we don’t need to ride together,” I added. “You take your bike, and I’ll follow you.” No. Did I really just say that? “How does that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He returned to his motorcycle and hoisted his helmet, as if making a toast to the sky. “I’ll wait for you here.”
~
I guess I’m going out into the great wide world. The thought needled me, disturbing my nerves. One just never knew what might happen out there . . .
I grabbed my purse, slipped on some flip-flops, and was about ready to leave when I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. Goodness, when had I last brushed my hair? It was honestly getting too long to care for properly. I paused to finger-comb my locks, then realized I probably shouldn’t make Harvey wait.
But just the thought of following that motorcycle . . .
Get a grip, Lila. I opened my garage door and settled into my Honda Civic, my wonky pulse pounding. The car’s interior smelled slightly musty. Since I hadn’t driven in so long, I wasn’t sure the engine would start. The internet, Amazon, and grocery delivery made it so easy for me to stay home indefinitely.
But I turned the key and the engine responded, so there went my last valid excuse for avoiding this chore.
After backing out, I turned around in my driveway and headed for the road. A huge part of me doubted I’d really find Harvey still waiting.
But, like a sturdy tree, there he was. Not only waiting, but smiling expectantly, as if this outing was something to enjoy.
The base of my neck prickled as he revved his motorcycle to life.
Here goes . . .
We zipped down roads, obeying the speed limit, yet the drive felt too fast. And the way he leaned his turns, the angle of his body to the road, ratcheted up my stress. My mind flashed horrible images of him wiping out, his body sprawling, my car hitting—
No!
I squeezed my eyes shut—not a good idea while driving. My lids shot back open, my heart hammering.
Maybe I should give up driving. It really wasn’t necessary. The last place I’d gone was to church, and I had no intention of returning.
When Harvey finally pulled into the camera shop’s parking lot, I doubted I’d be able to find my way back home. My phone GPS was useless without Wi-Fi, and I only had Wi-Fi at home.
I flinched when my door opened suddenly. Harvey stood there waiting for me, and I fumbled for my purse.
He inclined his chin in the direction of my passenger seat. “A Bible?”
Wishing he hadn’t noticed, I didn’t look at it. “It’s been there a while.”
Please don’t ask.
Harvey stepped aside as I emerged, then closed the door behind me.
I felt his curious gaze on me, but I marched into the camera shop, determined to focus on cameras and nothing else.
One foot through the door, I froze, overwhelmed by the sheer number of incredible devices on display. I actually felt my fingers tingling and my mouth watering.
“Pick any one.” Harvey’s voice swelled with all the generosity of an indulgent Santa. “Price doesn’t matter.”
But it mattered to me, and I promised myself I wouldn’t consider any camera worth more than the one he’d broken.
As I browsed the choices, I smothered my concern that, once again, Harvey was doing something kind for me, while I’d done nothing for him.
He had one simple, somewhat reasonable request, yet I refused to entertain it.
But I was justified, I assured myself. Some things just shouldn’t be sold.
~
“You want that one, right?”
I did, very much, but I couldn’t tell him that. It cost way more than the one he’d ruined.
“It’s nice.” I forced my gaze away to a lower-priced, sufficient model. “But so’s this one.” I made myself pick it up and assess it. “This will do.”
“It’ll do? Not quite what we’re aiming for here.” Harvey looked up and beckoned to the hovering salesman. “What can you tell us about the differences between these two cameras?”
I soaked in everything the salesman said, but when both men stared at me, waiting for my response, I had to speak. “It’s too expensive.”
Harvey shook his head. “I told you not to worry about that.”
Still. “Mine didn’t cost nearly this much.”
“You have to allow for inflation.”
I was pretty sure that didn’t apply here, but I let it go, suddenly finding it difficult to argue with Harvey in front of an audience. And I was sure this audience, the salesman, was on Harvey’s side. Probably earned commission.
Right on cue, the man cleared his throat. “Quality never comes cheap, miss. This camera will last you for years.” He pointed at a red tag. “It’s on sale through tomorrow, and you won’t find it for a lower price anywhere.”
“Hear that?” Harvey shot me a triumphant look. “It’s a great deal. You can’t argue with that.” Still, he waited, giving me a chance to.
But I could see how much he wanted to buy it, the desire shining in his eyes, and I couldn’t understand how he’d turned this into a situation where, if I said no, I’d be disappointing him.
The silence, the pressure of two people waiting for me, was too much.
“Okay,” I finally agreed.
~
“Bet you can’t wait to try it, hey?” Harvey asked with all the bounciness of a kid with a new toy.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I admitted as we stood beside my car. Traffic whizzed past on the nearby highway. I held the camera close to me, almost as if cradling a baby. “Thanks again.”
The Butterfly Recluse Page 3