Laura Miller - My Butterfly

I stared back at her, with my mouth cocked slightly open.

“Well, I always kind of knew,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “But then, you bought that ticket, and I knew you didn’t just want to sightsee in San Diego. And then, Jessica told me about your guys’ little talk that one night.”

Her eyes left me and fell onto a spot off in the distance somewhere again.

“Ten years ago, I didn’t so much care for Jessica,” she confessed. “That was, of course, before I knew her,” she said, pushing up another devious grin.

Then, I watched as her eyes returned to me.

“Thanks, Rachel,” I said.

“She’s your fight, Will,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”

My eyes fell to the floorboards at my feet, and a faint smile found its way to my lips; though, I was pretty sure it was one part hopeful and one part terrified.

“Rachel,” I said, lifting my eyes to hers again.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, black box. I stared at it as I turned it over in my hand. Then, I set it down onto the table’s surface in front of her.

Rachel’s jaw was cocked open, and her brown eyes were big when I met her gaze.

“What is that, Will?” she asked, forcing her eyes to the little box.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s my grandmother’s ring,” I said.

She looked up at me again and then back at the box.

“Can I?” she asked.

I laughed.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding my head.

She snatched up the little box and quickly pulled back its lid.

“Oh my gosh, Will,” she exclaimed. “It’s beautiful.”

When she was finished examining the ring, she met my eyes.

“The concert?” she asked.

I took a deep breath in and then let it quickly escape. Then, I nodded my head.

“So, this is why we need to get her back here?” she asked.

A wide smile gradually took over my face.

Rachel carefully closed the box’s lid and handed the ring back to me.

“I’ll make sure she gets on the plane,” she said.

“Thanks, Rachel,” I said, as my eyes found a spot on the table’s surface again, and then I paused.

“Rachel,” I said, lifting my gaze. “I have one more favor to ask of you.”

Iwas nervous. I couldn’t help but be. I hadn’t really talked to Jules’s mom in years. I tended to avoid the people that reminded me of Jules or the life I used to have with her. Her mom was one of those people.

“Rachel,” I heard Mrs. Lang exclaim, as Rachel stepped into the house in front of me.

Jules’s mom enveloped Rachel in a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Oh, and sweetie, Eric left some of that blackberry honey out for Jon,” Mrs. Lang said. “He knows how much he likes that kind.”

“Oh, thanks, Mrs. L,” Rachel said, as Jules’s mom released Rachel from her grip.

I was now standing in the hallway behind Rachel, so when Rachel stepped out of the way, I was in plain view.

“Will,” Mrs. Lang exclaimed.

I couldn’t tell if she had said my name in a scolding tone or if it had come from a place of surprise.

“Mrs. Lang,” I said, greeting her and tipping my cap.

She was motionless for a second, and her expression refused to waiver. But before I could think of what to do next, she threw her arms around me, just like she had done with Rachel a minute ago.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, into my shoulder. “It’s been so long.”

She pulled away from me then but kept her hands on my shoulders, as if to get a good look at me.

“You’re so grown up,” she exclaimed, as her eyes turned a little sad.

“Nah,” I said. “I’m not that grown up yet.”

She softly smiled and then turned to Rachel.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and squished her lips together like Rachel did when she was indifferent.

“He’s really not,” Rachel reassured her.

Mrs. Lang turned back to me, smiled again and squeezed my shoulders.

“Well, do you guys want some spiced honey cookies or some honey bread or tea?” she asked, as she darted into the kitchen then.

Rachel followed Mrs. L into the other room and came back out with a cup of something in her hand.

“The tea has honey in it,” Rachel said, as she smiled up at me.

“Will, do you want anything?” Mrs. L asked.

“Uh, no, Mrs. Lang, I’m fine. Thanks,” I said, grinning.

Jules’s dad had picked up raising bees in the last couple of years. I knew that because he sold the honey and everything that went along with it at my grandpa’s store.

Suddenly, Mrs. Lang appeared in the hallway again.

“Okay,” she said, looking at the two of us. “Let’s see what we can find.”

She shuffled to the bottom of the stairs and then started her climb. Rachel followed her, and I followed Rachel.

“Oh, Will, how is the singing going?” Mrs. Lang asked.

I took another step before I answered.

“It’s going all right,” I said.

“It was so funny,” Mrs. Lang went on. “Eric and I were up and about that morning that you were on the Good Morning show, you know?”

“Mm hmm,” I said.

“Well, all of a sudden, we heard your voice,” she continued, without missing a beat. “I knew it was your voice. And both of us just immediately stopped what we were doing. I’m not kidding. I set my cup down onto the counter — well, I guess, it more or less fell to the counter — and we both just gravitated to the television as if we were zombies. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs, and Rachel slipped past her.

“I’m so proud of you, Will,” she said, giving me that motherly smile that makes them look as if they want to cry too.

I smiled, and my cheeks turned hot.

“It’s nothing really,” I assured her.

She tilted her head slightly to the side.

“And you’re staying safe with the whole firefighter thing?” she asked. “No more falling from two-story buildings?”

“No, ma’am,” I said, shaking my head, my eyes cast down again.

“I hope not,” she said.

She rested her hand on my shoulder and lightly nudged me onward.

Rachel was already sprawled out onto the bed when I stepped into the room. I quickly glanced around and then immediately retraced my steps in my mind.

“Is this Julia’s room?” I asked.

“Mm hmm,” Rachel said.

“Well,” Rachel continued. “It’s the guest quarters now.”

She had said her last words in a British accent for some reason.

“It’s better than that awful lavender that Mrs. L let Julia paint it,” Rachel said.

Mrs. Lang turned and smiled at Rachel.

I looked around the room. All of Jules’s 4-H trophies were gone, along with all her track medals, her favorite band posters and that frightfully big, stuffed bear that always sat in the corner of the room. And while I didn’t so much miss the bear, I did miss everything else — everything that made this room Jules’s.

I watched Mrs. Lang pull open the closet door and tug on a beaded strand, which immediately lit the little room.

“Now, I know I saw them when I was packing away her things, so they’re in here somewhere,” she said, pulling down a shoe box from a shelf. “ Somewhere is the keyword.”

She smiled at us and opened the shoe box.

“Here, Mrs. L, I’ll help you look,” Rachel said, jumping up from the bed.

I glanced at the two of them in the closet, rooting through years of Julia’s life, now in boxes.

“Let me know if I can do anything,” I said to them, rocking back on my heels.

They were talking quietly to each other, so I wasn’t even sure if they had heard me. I felt uncomfortable all of a sudden being in Julia’s room without her being there. My eyes wandered around again, as I fell into the place on the bed that Rachel had just been. The room was painted a light greenish color now. The curtains were all white and in that material with all the holes in it. And there was a big picture of a field of flowers. The flowers were purple. Maybe they were for Jules — a lasting piece of her favorite color when everything else of hers was in boxes.