Her Brother's Keeper (29 page)

Following an unusually rough takeoff, Charlotte waited until her pulse got back to normal, then she reached into her purse and took out the small book Hannah had given her. She tapped her finger against the brown leather, nervous to read it. Would it make her
feel better or worse? Then she tapped some more, but when the man next to her cleared his throat, she stopped. “Sorry,” she whispered.

The older man cleared his throat two more times, and Charlotte realized it didn't have anything to do with her. Then he coughed. Again and again until his face turned bright red.

“Sir, are you okay?” Charlotte turned to her right, but felt her jaw drop a bit when the man's dark hair . . . moved. The elderly man looked to be in his late seventies, but there wasn't a gray hair on his head, and a dark blob of hair danced around on the top of his head. The harder he coughed, the more dancing, and Charlotte was sure it was going to flop right off his head and into her lap.

She twisted around and looked over her seat, but she didn't see a flight attendant anywhere. This guy needed something to drink. His cough was deep and raspy, and Charlotte strained to look around him and down the aisle. No food or beverage cart in sight. Then the coughing stopped.

“Well, that was bothersome.” The man shook his head, and again, Charlotte feared his hairpiece was going to fly off. “So sorry. I'm sure that couldn't have been pleasant for you.”

Charlotte smiled. “No, it's fine. But you had me worried for a minute.”

“My name is Nicholas, and it is my pleasure to be sitting next to someone as lovely as yourself.”

If the guy hadn't been old enough to be her grandfather, Charlotte might have found him a bit creepy, but he had a warm smile, even though his breath hinted that he might have had garlic recently.

“Thank you. That's very sweet. I'm Charlotte.”

Nicholas nodded, and Charlotte refocused on Ethan's book. She was going to read what he'd written, it was just a matter of when. But it would take awhile to decipher, and Charlotte's head was splitting. She was worried about Hannah, what she was thinking, if she for sure had the photo of Edna, if she'd confronted Edna. Maybe she'd never know the whole story, only the little bit that Isaac had told her, confirmed in a photo that Ethan and Edna had shared at least one instance of intimacy. Charlotte hoped that's all it was, a lapse in judgment, a weak moment. Mostly, she hoped Hannah didn't have the picture.

She tapped a finger, lightly this time, against the cover, knowing that once she'd read it, she couldn't unknow what it said. The knowledge would be hers, for better or worse. Leaning back against the seat, she closed her eyes.
Ethan, what should I do?
Again, she wondered if what he'd written was for her. So she'd understand. Before she could give it much more thought, Nicholas elbowed her. She opened her eyes and turned toward him.

“My bad.” He chuckled. “So sorry. I was just trying to reach down into my bag to retrieve my book.”

Charlotte smiled at his use of slang—
my bad
. “No problem.”

“Be glad that you are not a fat person. It is cumbersome.” He shook his head. “There are more overweight people in the world than ever before. You would think that the airlines would make bigger seats.” He laughed again, and Charlotte noticed his pearly whites on the top and bottom, too perfect to be real. She fought the urge to reach up and straighten his toupee.

Charlotte didn't think he looked very overweight, a bit chunky, but not really all that heavy. She wasn't sure what to say, so she just smiled and asked, “Do you want me to hand you your bag?”

“Certainly. Yes, oh yes. Could you please? I'd hate to further harm you with my elbow.”

“No problem.” Charlotte maneuvered her arm in front of his knees and was able to latch on to a black plastic shopping bag. “Here you go.”

“Wonderful good.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a hardback book, and Charlotte leaned her head against the back of the seat again, closing her eyes. Not a minute later, Nicholas's elbow found its way into her arm again, and she jumped. “Oops,” he said, cringing. “Oopsie doopsie.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing, then said, “It's okay.” She glanced at the book he was reading.
My Life as a Butterfly
. She was glad she told Hannah about the butterflies in the clouds, and she hoped it would give her some peace eventually.

“I am an avid reader. I read five books per week. Never
four, never six. Always five.” He winked at Charlotte. “I've read this one three times, though. It's a favorite. Horace Potts is a favorite author of mine. Have you read any of his books?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, I haven't.” She decided this wouldn't be a sleeping flight.

“He's a wonderful author. He has the capacity to take you inside the presumed mind of some of God's most interesting creatures. He's written
My Life as a Lizard
,
My Life as a Toad, My Life as a White Shark
, and lots more.” Nicholas frowned. “And then, out of the blue, he wrote
My Life as an Underwear Model
, and he lost me on that one.”

Charlotte laughed out loud, which felt good. “That's quite a shift.”

Nicholas raised his shoulders as he shook his head, chuckling. “I know!” He settled back against the seat, still laughing. “Bizarre, I tell you.
My Life as a Butterfly
remains my favorite. Did you know that most butterflies only live for one week? The exception being the monarch, of course. The monarch can live up to six months.”

“No, I didn't know that.” Charlotte paused, thinking of Ethan. “My brother used to always have butterflies around him. Even when we were kids, they would land on him all the time.”

“Our lives mirror the butterfly, a creature of true transformation, emerging from caterpillar to cocoon, and then finally to the beautiful winged beauties that bless our
surroundings. Some even say that the butterfly may be an angel or a messenger from a deceased loved one.”

“Really? I didn't know that.” And two months ago, Charlotte wouldn't have given much thought about angels, God, or an afterlife. Even if what the man said was just folklore, it was a beautiful idea. Hannah had said that Ethan told her that Hannah and her family had saved him. She hoped that when Ethan took his last breath, he realized that Jesus is the only person who can save us.

“Does your brother still have this wonderful connection with the butterflies?”

Charlotte shook her head. “He . . . he died about a year ago.”

“I'm very sorry for your loss. How did he die?”

Charlotte wasn't comfortable with the direction of this conversation, but she answered—truthfully—which felt good. “He took his own life.”

“Oh my. Oh dear.” Nicholas shook his head, tossing the hairpiece around. “I'm assuming he was a young man?”

“Yes. He would be thirty now.”

“Do you mind me asking, why do you think he ended his time here on earth?”

Charlotte shrugged, searching for a way to change the subject. “I don't know.”

“I can see this is uncomfortable for you, so let me ask . . . what are you reading?” Nicholas pointed to the small book in Charlotte's lap.

“Oh, this isn't a novel or anything. It's actually . . . my brother's book, maybe a journal of sorts. I'm hoping that it will shed some light on why he killed himself. I'm returning to Texas after a long visit in Amish Country. My brother had moved there and had plans to marry an Amish woman.”

“Interesting folks, the Amish.”

“Do you live in Pennsylvania, or maybe Texas?”

He smiled broadly. “I live where the wind takes me. I float on the whimsical clouds of life, dance with the crickets on a starlit night, and sing in the shower when I see fit to take one.”

Charlotte didn't think she could wipe the smile off of her face if she tried.
Who is this guy?
“It sounds like you enjoy life.”

“Life is a gift; how we choose to live it is a choice.”

Charlotte looked down at the small book. “There's a part of me that doesn't want to know what was going on in my brother's head. But as sure as I'm sitting here, I know I'll read it.” She surprised herself by voicing her thoughts to this stranger.

“But you will rise at some point to go to the bathroom. At least you will if you're like me. Then, you won't be sitting there, so does that make you sure of anything at all?”

Charlotte smiled again. “You are an interesting person, Nicholas.”

“I know.” He giggled. “I really am. So, I will give you
my two cents' worth of sidewalk psychiatry. Will reading your brother's notebook bring you peace or cause you further upset?”

“I've asked myself that same question repeatedly. That's why I've just stared at the book and not read it. But it is too tempting, to have it in my possession and not read it . . . eventually.”

“Ah, temptation, our prelude to sin. Are you familiar with the Lord's Prayer?”

It was the only prayer she knew by heart. “Yes.”

“Well, allow me to share the fact that the King James Version of the Bible uses the word
temptation
in translation for the Greek word
peirasmos
, and this Greek word has nothing to do with temptation the way we know it, but instead it simply means ‘being put to the test.' So, by what means will you be tested? Will the journey be worth the destination?”

“I don't know.” She looked at this unusual man, and his piercing blue eyes challenged her to look deep within herself. “But I don't think I can have a book of my brother's private thoughts, and not read it, in light of . . . you know.” She shrugged. “I need to know. And I think he meant for me to have it.”

“My bladder says it's time to take a walk to the back of this air bus.” He smiled, then groaned as he lifted himself out of the chair. He put the book in his seat, and eased into the aisle. Charlotte noticed he had a slight limp as he moved slowly to the back of the plane. He'd
given her plenty to think about, but she was emotionally exhausted. If she was going to have any chance of sleep, she needed to close her eyes now, while Nicholas was away. She did so and didn't wake up until her ears started to pop, so she knew they were descending. Nicholas's book was still in the seat next to her, but she didn't see him anywhere.
Maybe I was snoring
. There were lots of empty seats on the plane.

“Ma'am.” Charlotte reached across Nicholas's seat and tapped the arm of the flight attendant who was standing nearby in the aisle. “Do you know where the man who was sitting here went? He left his book in this chair.”

“He asked to be moved up front to one of the exit seats with more leg room. I can take him the book.” The woman reached for the book.

“No, no. I enjoyed talking to him, and I'd like to thumb through the book, then return it myself when the plane lands. Can you just tell him that?”

“Sure.”

Charlotte picked up the book, opened it where the bookmark was, and read:

My beauty as a butterfly is evident by my bright colors, but what most people don't know is that those same bright colors fend off predators like birds, snakes, lizards, rats, wasps, and ants. Simply because I don't taste good. I tell you this to use as a comparison within your own species analysis. Are you as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside, and does it draw goodness or repel it?

Hannah's name flew into the forefront of Charlotte's thoughts. But despite her goodness, Hannah hadn't been able to forgive Charlotte, nor had the rest of her family. She recalled what Lena had told her.
You are a defender of goodness. A protector, compassionate, and someone people tend to trust right away.
Charlotte felt sure that Lena and the entire family were ruing the day they'd ever trusted Charlotte.

She continued reading.

We often hear that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but in my case, it is my beauty that keeps me from being lunch. Ugly butterflies are gobbled up by the aforementioned predators. In that regard, I'm thankful I'm pretty. I repel my enemies.

Charlotte stopped reading, forcing a yawn so her ears would pop again, thinking what an odd book this was. But Horace Potts must be a popular author to have an entire series dedicated to his life as animals and insects.

So, I ask, do you see butterflies? Do they land on you? Go back and reread this page—the part about drawing goodness or repelling it.

Charlotte turned the page.

If I show up with a lot of my friends, we are working very hard to get you to take a good look at what's going on in your life. Is a transformation underway? Do you need to make changes? And you just thought I was around to look pretty.

Charlotte smiled, closed the book, and brought her seat to an upright position when she heard the flight attendant instructing people to do so.

Once the plane was on the ground, she turned her phone on. No voice mails or texts. It took another twenty minutes before she was able to work her way into the aisle and toward the exit. On the way, she looked for Nicholas to see if he was waiting in one of the seats. When she stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac, she waited, but she never saw him.
She looked down at the book, waited a while longer, then finally eased the book into her carry-on bag and headed toward baggage claim.

There was lots of luggage, and she was keeping her eyes peeled for her two black suitcases that were empty and her red suitcase, when she felt breath on her neck and jumped. “Hello, stranger.”

“Ryan! Oh, wow. I can't believe you're here.” She threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. He smelled freshly showered, with a hint of spicy cologne.
When he cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer, she felt like she could stay in his arms forever. He seemed to be absorbing all the hurt in one simple hug, and Charlotte started to relax for the first time in a while. “Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.