The Butterfly Recluse

by Therese Heckenkamp

  Smiling, I shook my head and watched her disappear. Then I stood beside my car, debating.

  I glanced back at the church, at the side door that led to the basement potluck. What if I did go? Would it really be that hard?

  I should do it. I can do it. No one’s stopping me but me.

  At last, I straightened my skirt, smoothed my hair, and crossed the parking lot before I could lose my nerve.

  Voices and laughter floated up as I descended the carpeted stairs. Maybe this was just what I needed, maybe this would be the start of—

  One particularly loud, chatty voice hit me, and I paused halfway through the door.

  “The way Sarah described her, I expected to see butterflies swarming around her.”

  “Or at least a few stuck in her hair.”

  Laughter made my stomach plunge.

  “Not that you can blame the poor girl for going a little berserk after what happened to her.”

  The laughter faded.

  “Yeah, if becoming some kind of butterfly recluse is what helps her deal . . . ”

  Elbows started poking and prodding, heads turned, and a few fingers pointed at me.

  The only eyes I met were Sarah’s, and the shock and guilt on her face pierced me more than all the careless words.

  Because I knew she was responsible.

  I fled up the stairs and out of the parking lot, leaving Sarah’s friendship behind.

  Now, standing on the cool concrete of my garage floor, the memory still hurt. The Bible sat heavy as a brick in my hands, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

  I’d blamed Sarah for driving me away from church, but the truth was, I knew she hadn’t meant to be unkind. Like Harvey said, maybe I’d snapped up the excuse to not return there—or anywhere. I thought it would be easier, safer . . .

  I don’t know how to forgive anyone. Not Sarah . . . Not myself. Not God.

  I wandered inside and settled at my desk with the Bible, staring at the cover for a long minute. My hand wavered.

  Don’t do it.

  But I did. I opened the Bible.

  I flipped quickly past the death-record page, where I’d written all the names of my family, all dated the same dreadful day. Ignoring the truth didn’t change it. Maybe it was time I faced it.

  I turned back to the death-record page and let my eyes linger over the ink strokes of each name, each one so dear and familiar.

  Slowly, I touched my fingertips to the smooth paper, touched the next line, which was blank and ready for another name.

  I should have been with you . . .

  “No, don’t say that.” Harvey’s words intruded. He’d told me life could be better.

  How? I asked. Tell me how.

  But he wasn’t here to tell me. There was no one here with me.

  No one but God.

  With a few clicks, I opened up a Bible concordance on my computer and entered the word forgive. A long row of Bible verses appeared, the word forgive highlighted in glaring yellow. I scanned them, my skepticism high.

  For if you will forgive men their offenses, your heavenly Father will forgive you also your offenses.

  The verse reminded me of the Our Father prayer, the one I hadn’t said in so long.

  . . . forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us . . .

  I returned to the computer screen and noticed a pattern of other words, ones like have mercy and pray.

  Next, I typed in the word friend, and my eyes kept rereading one particular verse. The good counsels of a friend are sweet to the soul.

  A wistful sigh escaped me. Sweet to the soul? Who wouldn’t want that?

  Maybe that explained the irresistible draw I felt in Harvey’s presence.

  I shook my head, knowing he was right. Friends are important.

  But he wasn’t the only one who’d been telling me that. Jess had been, too. I’d been holding her at a careful distance for years. And even though she’d wanted more, she’d stuck by me, settling for what little trust I gave her.

  Moving my computer mouse, I opened a message to her, then wrote, I’ve been thinking, Jess, and maybe it’s time.

  I chewed on my bottom lip, and my brain sent the signal to keep typing. Maybe we should finally meet . . .

  Chapter 9

  A firm knock sounded at my front door.

  No, no, no! The timing couldn’t have been worse. I was in the middle of mopping my kitchen floor and pretty sure I sported horrendous sweat patches beneath my armpits.

  “Hold on, I’m coming!” I zipped past the front door and up the stairs to throw off my current T-shirt and pull on a clean one. As for my hair, well, there wasn’t time. I slid a hand over it and galloped down the stairs to the door.

  “You opened it.” Harvey stood on my porch grinning as if I’d passed a life-changing test.

  Maybe I had.

  He’d said he’d be back, two days ago when he left me with Glory, and I’d believed him.

  In my effort to forgive, I’d stopped replaying the church memory and replaced it with my first memory of Sarah and how we’d met, how I’d let her into my life in the first place.

  Let her? I couldn’t help a small smile. I’d let her in like I’d let Harvey in—unintentionally.

  More like they’d burst their way in, with a brightness that wouldn’t burn out.

  Shortly after I’d moved to town, I’d driven to the grocery store because I hadn’t started ordering groceries online yet.

  I’d been distracted as I pulled into a parking spot, and a scraping sound startled me. Realizing I’d made contact with the car parked beside me, I groaned. I reversed and readjusted my car, though I wanted to flee.

  But that wouldn’t be right.

  I emerged with a leaden stomach and eyed the damage on the Ford Fusion. Not as bad as I’d feared—barely a dent—but there was a noticeable scratch. Not something I could simply ignore.

  I looked up and down the lot but didn’t see anyone heading my way.

  What to do?

  After waiting a few moments in hopes the owner would appear, I dug a pen and paper from my purse and wrote my name and number, as well as a short note: Sorry I scraped your car. Call me and I’ll get my insurance to take care of it.

  Feeling slightly better, I stuck the paper under a windshield wiper.

  “Hey, whatcha doin’?”

  I turned to see a tall dark-haired young woman striding my way.

  I straightened and tried not to mumble. “Is this your car?”

  “Yep.” She nodded, popped open the door, and grabbed her phone off the seat. “I forgot this. What’s up? What’s with the note?”

  “I scraped your car when I was parking.” I felt foolish admitting it. What kind of grownup didn’t know how to park?

  One who barely drove. One who was distracted by grief.

  “Yeah?” She didn’t sound worried. “Where?”

  We rounded the car and I showed her, pointing out the black streak on the sapphire-blue paint.

  “That?” She ran her fingers over it. I noticed the remains of chipped purple polish on her nails. “That’s not bad. In fact, I bet my brother can fix that for me, no problem. He’ll probably enjoy doing it, too, the weirdo.” She shrugged. “So you did him a favor.”

  My spirits lifted slightly. “So you don’t want my insurance to take care of it? Are you sure?”

  “Oh yeah.” She waved her hand and smiled. “I’m not gonna blow a gasket over something that tiny.” She pocketed her phone. “You heading in?”

  “Yeah, I was . . .”

  We fell into step, and somehow she drew out the fact that I was new in town. She insisted on helping me shop, finding all the best deals for stocking my fridge, freezer, and pantry. And she practically made me buy a certain kind of donut, claiming that they were “to die for.”

  I never expected a grocery outing to be quite so much fun. It certainly took my mind off my problems.

  Maybe I’d made a good choic
e moving to this town.

  Not that I expected to see Sarah again, but she had my phone number from that note, and she invited me to meet up for lunch a couple of days later. And before I knew it, getting together with her became a regular thing.

  And I realized I’d made a friend.

  The memory, which I’d blocked from my mind, touched me now with guilt. She’d been so kind, so ready to forgive, and when my turn came, I’d refused. My stomach turned.

  I hoped it wasn’t too late to fix this.

  Harvey had presented me with an opportunity, and now here he was. I couldn’t help giving him a big smile.

  My heart raced, but I told myself that was from running up and down the stairs.

  Mostly, anyway.

  “Friends,” I blurted. “I mean, I’m willing to try being friends again with Sarah. I forgive her.” I figured the first step was saying the words.

  “Really? That’s great, Lila. Thank you.” He tilted his head. “And me? Do I get to be your friend, too?” He sounded teasing, playful.

  My tongue almost tangled while trying to speak. “If you want to be.” I felt a blush rising and turned away. “You probably came to check on Glory. I’ll go get her.”

  I hesitated with the door half closed, suddenly caught in a quandary. I wasn’t ready to let Harvey into my house. I had a lot of cleaning left to do before it would be guest-worthy, and . . . and I didn’t let anyone in my house. “Wait on the porch. I’ll be right back.”

  “No problem.” Another smile.

  That smile. So kind and caring. I closed the door and collected myself.

  Moments later, I emerged with Glory in hand.

  Harvey nodded. “She looks good, but I knew she would.” His gaze didn’t stay on her for long. “I knew you’d take great care of her. So now that we’re friends, how about going for a walk with me?”

  I reined in my skittering nerves. “You’re not going to drop another truth-bomb on me, are you? No more sisters I need to forgive?” I transferred Glory to my other finger, but she wasn’t content to stay in one spot. She crept on me like a spider.

  “Nope, I promise, and no bombs. Actually, I was thinking you’d help me plan one to drop on Sally. Not a real bomb, obviously. I should probably stop using that word.”

  I laughed, suddenly encouraged by the simple fact that I wasn’t the only one who stumbled over words. I wasn’t perfect. Harvey wasn’t perfect. Sarah wasn’t perfect.

  No one was, and life sure wasn’t perfect—but it didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy some perfect moments.

  After I returned Glory to the sunroom, Harvey and I strolled along the road, walking farther than I’d ever ventured on my own. We crossed into a neighborhood lined with tall trees and meandering sidewalks.

  “So now that you know the whole truth, I’m not going to bother you about the butterfly release anymore. I’m just going to ask you one thing, and you probably know what that is.” Harvey glanced at me hopefully. “Will you go to the wedding?”

  I was about to answer, when he hurried on. “I’ll even drive you. Imagine how surprised Sally would be to see you. What do you say? If you need some time to think about it, that’s fine, too.”

  I smiled at his obvious anxiety. In truth, I’d sensed this was coming and given it a lot of thought already. “I’ll go.” I’d do it for Sarah, and I’d do it for him. My friends.

  Harvey let out a whoop. “All right! Thank you! And you’ll have a great time, I promise.”

  I suspected he was right. Something about being near him seemed to bring good times.

  Childish laughter floated toward us on the breeze, and I pointed ahead. “Look, a park.” The place was in walking distance from my home, and I hadn’t even known it. The flowers and colorful play equipment made the place look charming and inviting.

  “I used to love bringing Mags and Matt to the park. They could play there for hours.” My voice softened. “They were ten years younger than me, but when they were born, I was never jealous of them. Never. They always made everything better.”

  Harvey took my hand and squeezed it. “I bet you were a great big sister.”

  I felt my palm beating a pulse against his, warm and steady. Comforting. “I could’ve been better.”

  “Come on, we could all say that. I could’ve been a better brother too, but Sally’s stuck with what she’s got.”

  I laughed. “You don’t seem that bad to me.”

  “Oh, we went at it something terrible growing up. Once I was old enough to find out she used to make me play tea party and dolls with her—” He coughed. “Forget I said that. But yeah, she was the older, bossy sister, and I was the younger, obnoxious brother. But we always had each other’s backs.”

  “Siblings are great that way.”

  We crossed onto the spongey, rubbery playground surface. “Look,” I said, “there’s even a merry-go-round here. Wow, those are hard to find these days. Guess they’re not considered very safe anymore. But they were always Mags and Matt’s favorite.”

  The metal merry-go-round base had been painted in multicolored wedges, like a pie. I sat down on a red one.

  “Hold on.” Harvey pushed one of the yellow rails, and I started whirling. He ran past me in a blur. Faster, faster. Colors flashed by, and I grew dizzy with laughter.

  “Hey, mister!” a child’s voice yelled. “Can we get on?” More childish voices echoed the request.

  They obviously knew a good thing when they saw it. I tipped my head back and it bobbled. Suddenly I was surrounded by kids. More laughter, more fun. The grass and trees and sky zoomed by.

  Finally, Harvey stepped back and leaned over, his hands on his thighs. “Whew. That’s all I’ve got for now.”

  “Awww!” the kids moaned, but they quickly recovered, scattering to other play equipment.

  “Did you like the ride?” Harvey took my arm and helped me off. Good thing. My legs wobbled, wonky as a newborn deer’s.

  “It was super fast.”

  “My motorcycle’s faster.” His tone held a hint of challenge.

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “Slicing through the air, the wind ripping past—it’s the greatest feeling. I’ll never forget my first motorcycle ride.”

  Despite my spinning brain, I wanted to focus on his words. Spotting a swing set with two empty seats, I headed for them. “Let’s sit.”

  I gripped the chains, kicked off my flip-flops, and skimmed the earth with my toes. “So what got you interested in motorcycles? Why do you like them so much?”

  He laughed. “What’s not to like? I’ve always loved them.”

  A memory of Matt playing with toy motorcycles blipped through my mind. He’d loved them, too. I could still hear the vrroom noise he used to make as he ran the motorcycles across the floor. Sometimes I got down on my hands and knees and raced him.

  “I didn’t save for a first car,” Harvey said. “I saved for a motorcycle. Mowed a ton of lawns. My parents didn’t like it, but they didn’t stop me from buying one. Probably knew I would’ve anyway, somehow. But my dad took my keys away all the time, every excuse he got, till I finally moved out at eighteen.”

  He twisted on the swing to face me. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s an okay guy. We just didn’t see eye to eye on a whole lot. He wanted me to be a doctor, but after high school I got this great chance to work at a motorcycle shop with the owner. Kinda like an apprenticeship. Now I build and repair motorcycles for a living, and I love it.”

  “ ‘Choose a job you love, and you’ll never have to work a day in your life,’ ” I quipped. “That’s a saying from a little calendar my mom gave me. Not sure who first said it. I’ve always remembered it, though, and I totally agree with it.”

  A young family with three kids strolled past, and the mom gave us a second glance before approaching. “Excuse me, could you take our picture?”

  Harvey looked at me and grinned. “Your specialty.”

  I sprang up from the swing. “Sure, I’d love
to.”

  “Then I’ll take yours,” the mom promised.

  And just like that, in mere moments, Harvey and I stood side by side near the park sign, and just before the woman snapped our picture, he put his arm around me.

  Chapter 10

  We had so much fun together, I typed to Jess that night, needing to relive what felt like the best day of my life in years.

  We walked to a park, and we talked about all sorts of things—kinda like we do—and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Harvey doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. Some family wanted me to take their picture for them, so I did, and then they took our picture.

  Jess responded, So show me!

  Smiling, I uploaded the photo for her, then gazed at it too.

  You make a cute couple, she replied.

  We’re just friends.

  For now, maybe.

  Yet I knew Jess well enough to sense her unwritten thoughts. My fingers struck the keyboard harder than necessary. You don’t approve.

  Sorry, Lila. The last thing I want to do is burst your bubble, but he looks kind of cocky to me. I know the type, believe me.

  I hovered the cursor over the sticking-out-my-tongue emoji, barely able to keep myself from clicking it.

  Just be careful, Jess wrote. Please. I don’t want you to get hurt. I know you’re all excited about this date, but—

  It’s not a date. I couldn’t type the words fast enough. He never said it was a date. He asked me to the wedding as a surprise for his sister, that’s all. She and I used to be friends, but we had a falling-out.

  I’d confided in Jess about it at the time, but now I hoped she didn’t remember.

  Is he picking you up? she asked. Is he driving you?

  Yes.

  So it’s a date. I’m warning you, if he breaks your heart, I’m gonna stomp on his.

  Deciding not to acknowledge that, I waited for her to type something worth replying to.

  So when are we finally getting together? she asked.