Harvey grinned, though the gesture seemed stiff and lacked humor. “She didn’t want to be tied to that, to me—didn’t realize I’d recover so well and so fast. She wasn’t into me, as a person, but into my looks, my image. Made me wonder if I was shallow like that, too.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I think I learned a lot from that accident. What’s real and worthwhile . . . what’s not.”
I tried not to be stunned. Tried to think of something to add to the conversation. All that baring of his soul, and all I could offer in return was feeble silence? It wasn’t sufficient.
“You’re not,” I said. “Shallow, I mean. Not at all.” My indignation blended with sadness, and I tossed my hair, no longer caring it was pink.
That girl he’d been with, she should have been so relieved he was alive—how could she have left his side? How hurtful. He deserved so much more.
And there was so much more I wanted to say. To assure him he was a good person, kind, loyal, determined . . . “You took a fall like that, and you still ride motorcycles?” I couldn’t fathom it.
“Sure. It’s like riding a horse. You gotta get back on, face your fear. Conquer it.”
He was brave, too.
With a turn of the wheel, there we were, pulling into the newly sealed parking lot of the stone church. Slow as I was today at conversation, I still would have preferred to simply stay in the car, listening to Harvey talk.
He glanced at the time, then pocketed his phone and keys before exiting the car and opening my door. He retrieved his suit coat from a hanger in the back seat and slid his arms into it. “Way too hot for this thing.”
The butterflies batted their wings, diverting my attention.
“I can’t leave these out here in this heat.” I grabbed the enclosure. “They’ll have to come inside with me.”
“Sure.” Harvey nodded and walked. I followed, then scooted to his side, trying not to straggle behind. These heels were going to be a challenge.
“So this is where I leave you.” He indicated the rear door of the building. “I have to wait in there with the guys. Bride’s orders.”
I swallowed, still processing his earlier words.
“You okay?” Harvey paused with one foot on the steps. “It’s not too late. You can still wait in the car if you’d prefer.”
“No, of course not. I’ll wait in the church like I said. It’s fine, no big deal. I want to. I was only . . .” Be honest.
“It’s just . . .” I swapped the butterfly carrier to my other hand. “After everything you told me in the car, I was wondering if, because of all that . . .” I gave a stiff shrug and focused on the shadow cast by the church. Wished I was standing in it. Probably ten degrees cooler over there. The way I was perspiring right now, I could sure use some shade.
“Yeah?” he urged.
“So now . . . so now you don’t date?”
There, I’d said it, and the ground hadn’t even swallowed me up. Though I might soon wish it would. I’d said the words way too casually to actually sound casual.
Then—horrors—he hesitated. His foot slid off the step and returned to the ground as he leaned toward me. “So now . . . I’m very, very particular. In fact”—his voice dropped—“I only date girls with pink hair.” He swooped a finger gently down one of my loose curls. “And pink faces. Ones that blush exactly that shade.” He gave my curl the slightest tug. “What about you? Do you date?”
I almost laughed. “I think you know the answer.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
My gaze skittered sideways. “I . . . I might if I found the right guy.”
“Yeah?” Half his mouth appeared to grin, while the other half seemed to hold in a secret. “And would you recognize him if you saw him?”
Chapter 12
Before I could manage an answer, Harvey simply smiled and disappeared through the door.
Just as well. The way my mind was spinning, I hadn’t even come close to formulating a reply. Maybe I’d be able to by the reception. Or maybe we’d both forget about it by then.
I hoped he would.
I hoped he wouldn’t.
What was this strange feeling swirling within me? I’d never felt this before. Almost in a daze, I missed the sidewalk, as if unable to follow a straight line, and rambled through the grass to the front door of the church.
Lightheaded, I slipped inside and settled on a wooden pew, and it took a few moments for me to realize I still clutched the butterfly carrier close to me. I hastily nestled it onto the floor, then knelt and tried to pray.
The wedding flowers and pew bows punctuated my vision with rich bursts of color. The expansive church felt larger than I remembered, probably because it was so devoid of people.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against my folded hands. I kept picturing Harvey sprawled and injured on the side of the road. A car could have hit him, killed him. I shuddered.
Thanks for protecting him, Lord. He’s special, really special. My lip twitched. But You already know that, of course. You made him that way.
I paused, uncertain how to continue, but then a thought flowed out with no prompting.
I’m sorry for how long it took me to come back to You, Lord. I missed You.
I hadn’t realized how much until now.
Prayers soothed my nerves, fed my soul.
Time slid by and I barely noticed. The first notes of gentle organ music rippled through the air, and guests trickled in.
When someone slipped in beside me, I didn’t turn, but I sensed him glance my way. I leaned over and inspected the butterflies, satisfied to see them clinging to mesh or sipping from the juice-saturated sponge. They’d soon be free to enjoy summer air and fresh flower nectar for the very first time.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed that the man beside me was looking at me oddly. The skin on the back of my neck prickled.
Without meaning to, I gave in and glanced at him.
His brows rose. “Yours?” He indicated the monarchs. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“What, butterflies?”
“In church. In a cage.”
“It’s not a cage, it’s a habitat.” I slid a few slow centimeters away from him. The pew creaked loudly.
His brown eyes glinted with amusement. “You bring them everywhere you go?”
I produced a composed smile. “No, I brought them here for a butterfly release.”
“Interesting.” He glanced around and leaned nearer, lowering his voice. “You do those a lot?”
“No, this is a first. For a friend.”
“Really? Well I’m glad I’m here to see it. How do you know Roger? I sure wouldn’t have pegged him for a butterfly guy.”
“Um . . .” I cocked my head slightly. “Who?”
“The groom. You’re sitting on the groom’s side of the church.”
“Oh.” The groom’s side. That’s a thing? “Oops,” I whispered, “my bad.” Did I use that expression right? I’d never said it to anyone before, only typed it occasionally in chats with Jess, copying her in an attempt to sound cool.
“I guess I’m on the wrong side. I’m actually Sarah’s friend.” It felt good to say, made it feel real, and a strange glow filled me. I glanced at the other side. “Maybe I should move.”
“No, don’t. No one will mind.” He smiled, and I realized he was attractive, though in a very different way than Harvey—in a mellow, straight-A-student or young-professor way, with his striking dark hair groomed so I could see the comb marks. Not a shadow of facial hair marked his chin. I imagined he’d look particularly nice in glasses, though he wasn’t wearing any.
Jess sometimes joked that my dream man was probably some kind of nerd. I could imagine this man being my type, yet he didn’t interest me in the least.
I turned to the front of the church to see Harvey enter with the other groomsmen, and my heart flipped.
“Name’s Jay, by the way, and I actually barely know the groom.” He leaned cl
oser, and I caught a whiff of peppermint.
Harvey usually smelled of grease and grass and dirt, but I preferred that.
Jay’s peppermint scent teased my nostrils and made me realize the polite thing to do was to offer my name in return. “I’m Lila.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” I straightened my posture and felt my spine bump against the hard pew back. I bowed my head and tried to refocus on God.
Jay eyed the butterflies again, mock concern flicking across his features. “You think you can manage to keep those guys quiet during the wedding? Because if you need any assistance, I’d be happy to help.”
My only reply was a smile, and by the time the wedding march began, I felt comfortable with my pewmate beside me, while Harvey grinned at me from the front of the church.
Smiling back, I almost felt like I belonged.
~
Sarah looked more beautiful than I remembered. As she glided down the aisle, it was as if her trailing train swept away my old grievances, and my mind recalibrated to the truth. She had a good heart, which shone from her face, and I’d always known that deep down. She’d simply been the excuse I’d needed to avoid church.
But everyone in this place . . . I glanced around . . . they were here to celebrate, worship, and give praise to God—not to ridicule and gossip. Maybe later they’d talk about me, but whatever. There were worse things than gossip.
Peace seeped into my soul, and it felt good there. My heart softened and warmed as I followed the service, glad I’d come.
Glad Harvey had asked me.
This was the start of something monumental for Sarah, a new life. And here I was, a part of it.
Near the end of the wedding, Jay leaned sideways and cleared his throat, pulling me from my thoughts. He pointed at the butterflies. “So when exactly do you release them?”
My meandering brainwaves snapped to attention. “Soon!” Grateful for the reminder, I grabbed the carrier handles and, as unobtrusively as possible, slid from the pew. Fortunately, I’d sat near the back.
I made my way outside and down the front steps. Then I turned and faced the church, ready and waiting, heart pounding, nerves firing. The butterflies fluttered, reacting to the warmth and sunshine. “Soon,” I whispered to them, “soon.”
Grand strains of organ music filtered out the windows and burst from the doors as they opened wide and revealed Sarah beaming beside her new husband. The wedding party and guests streamed out behind them.
Showtime.
I pulled the enclosure’s zipper, the tiny white teeth producing a steady zhirr until the flap hung loose. I flipped it back, expecting the butterflies to take flight and soar free.
Only they didn’t.
Each and every monarch remained contentedly clinging to the mesh wall or the juice sponge, wings pulsing, soaking the sun, not sailing into it, passively observing the world, not joining it. Not realizing the vast, beautiful freedom that awaited them.
I crouched down, an action more difficult than I expected in heels. “Go on,” I whispered urgently.
A receiving line formed and the guests greeted the happy couple, all oblivious to the special tribute that was supposed to be occurring.
I tapped the side of the mesh. “Go now, before it’s too late!”
“And she talks to them, too.” I heard the grin in his voice before I saw it on his face. Jay had abandoned the receiving line to join me. “Need a hand?”
I released a puff of frustration. “They’re supposed to fly out.”
“Hmm.” He studied them. “Maybe they just need a little encouragement, a nudge to get them started.”
I frowned. “Maybe, but—”
He reached for the opening.
“Wait!” I shielded the entrance, blocking him. “They’re fragile. Don’t touch their wings.” I offered my finger to one butterfly, and he climbed on, prickly feet gripping, and I lifted him out. A breeze ruffled his wings, and suddenly he was airborne. Orange-and-black waved a rapid goodbye as he sailed away.
“Quick!” The effect would be ruined if the butterflies left one by one. No one would even notice such a pitiful release.
But Jay was a step ahead, already coaxing butterflies aboard his fingers. He brought out two on each hand, and away they flew. I was right behind him with four more.
And so we worked in a fluid, well-timed sequence, as if we’d practiced. The butterflies somehow caught on—as did the guests, and the oohs and ahhs and exclamations of “Look at the butterflies!” assured me the release was finally successful.
Some of the monarchs even circled the wedding party and guests, showing off, or perhaps attracted by the bright colors, bouquets, and boutonnieres. Who knew? But at least the butterflies were appreciated, especially by the children. Some kids even scampered off to chase them.
I glimpsed Harvey, who wasn’t watching the butterflies. He was watching me, giving me a nod and a thumbs up. I never would have guessed from our first meeting—when he’d run after butterflies—that I’d end up here with him.
He’d gotten his way after all.
“Oh wow, Lila? You came!”
A fragrant cloud of white satin and tulle engulfed me. Sarah smelled of exotic flowers but hugged like a wrestler. “I can’t believe you came. And with butterflies!”
She leaned back just enough to look me in the eye, and I noticed hers shimmering. “Do you have any idea how much this means to me?” Her words almost caught on a sob. “I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you, too.” I really have. I blinked rapidly, fighting emotion. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you.”
“Me too.” She laughed. “Everything’s perfect, just perfect.” She beamed at Jay, whom I’d forgotten about. “And this must be your date. How wonderful. Oh, Lila, I’m so happy for you. You make the perfect couple.”
My eyes widened, but Jay smiled, apparently too polite to correct a bride’s blunder. I supposed it was my duty. I pulled in a breath. “Actually—”
But the maid of honor tugged Sarah away to speak to a grandmother or great-aunt or some other elderly relative who’d flown in from a faraway state, and Sarah sent us an enthusiastic wave, calling, “See you at the reception!”
Chapter 13
I’m so sorry.” Not really wanting to, I shifted my gaze to face Jay. “I—”
“Don’t apologize.” The corner of his mouth quirked, revealing the hint of a dimple. “I think she’s on to something. I’d love to be your date to the reception. Besides”—he gave a conspiratorial smile—“we can’t disappoint the bride on her wedding day, can we?”
Why did he have to put it like that? I tried not to stutter. “I’m flattered, really, but I came with someone.”
“Oh?” Curiosity and mild surprise crossed his face. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” He glanced around. “Where is he?”
My eyes searched too, willing Harvey to appear and prove me right. Not that I had to prove anything, but I didn’t want Jay thinking I was brushing him off with a lie.
“He’s in the wedding party. Brother of the bride, so he’s busy with family and pictures and . . . other things.”
I bent to retrieve the butterfly habitat, now empty, then performed the tricky twists required to reduce it into a flat, folded square. “But thanks so much for your help. I really appreciate it. They were being so stubborn, I was afraid I’d never get them out.”
“I knew you would.”
Harvey’s voice made my head snap up. He stood at my side, his tie loosened, his jacket draped casually over his shoulder.
He smiled broadly. “If it were up to me, I would’ve just shaken the things out.”
Appalled, I heard a gasp escape my throat.
This is your date? Jay’s eyes seemed to question, and I really didn’t like the fact that I felt I could read his thoughts. Disapproving. Judging. You and him? I don’t see it. But he smiled politely and offered Harvey his hand. “Jay, nice to meet you.”
“Harvey.” He shook Jay’s hand and released it just as quickly, turning back to me. “Hey, so listen. I guess I should’ve figured this all out beforehand, but about getting to the reception . . .” He glanced toward the road, and I spotted a long, sleek white limo parked at the curb, waiting.
Anticipation bloomed inside me.
Harvey cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize I wouldn’t be driving you.”
“That’s okay.” Totally. I’d never ridden in a limo before, couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, but it would be fun to find out.
Harvey glanced from me to the vehicle and rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to do this to you, to put you in this spot, but the limo only has room for the wedding party. And we have to make some pit stops for pictures.”
“Okay.”
“So I was hoping you could drive my car to the reception. It’s not far, The Blue Spruce Hall. You could GPS it, and there’s a card in my car with directions.”
He touched my bare arm, sending a cool zing through me despite the hot day.
“Is that okay?”
I blinked, processing. What he was asking of me was small, simple, reasonable. Again, something one would happily do for a friend.
A warm breeze blew my skirt around my ankles and pulled at my twisted shawl. I reeled the fabric in and bunched it into a ball. “Sure.” I smiled and held out my hand. “All I need is your keys.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course.”
“Awesome.” His smile reflected relief, and I tried to absorb it to calm my pounding pulse.
“Thanks for everything. I’ll see you at the reception.” He gave me a quick wave, then left. Looking around, I realized even Jay had disappeared.
I squeezed the black-and-silver key fob as I returned to Harvey’s car and climbed into the driver’s seat. I shut the door and immediately appreciated the bubble of isolation, the silence and solitude.
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