My Butterfly

Chapter Thirty-Nine The Find

I was 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.

Suddenly, I heard giggling from the closet, and then I felt a soft, stuffed thing hit the side of my head.

“Remember that?” Rachel asked.

I collected myself and then spotted a small, stuffed animal that kind of resembled a cat lying on the floor. I smiled and bent over to retrieve it.

“Julia loved that thing for some reason,” Rachel said.

I ran my fingers over the stuffed animal’s glass eyes and sewn-on nose. Furballs. It was uglier than I had remembered it; though, the memory was far from ugly. I smiled to myself.

“I think I found them,” Rachel screamed just then.

My eyes quickly turned up toward the closet just in time to see Rachel pull out a bouquet of butterfly weeds from a cardboard box. She smiled and held the flowers out toward me.

“Your flowers, sir,” she said, with a big grin tattooed to her face.

I stood up, walked over to her and took the flowers into my hands. The last time I had held them, her jeep was packed, her smile was wide, and her dreams were waiting — to escort her right out of my life.

“Now, go get your fight, Will,” Rachel said, squeezing my arm.

I looked up at the two of them and smiled.

“Thank you,” I said, before returning my gaze to the butterfly weeds now cradled in my hands.