She Only Speaks to Butterflies (3 page)

“Cut it out,” Sherry rebuked. “Her husband likes her fat.”

“Honey, I don’t understand straight people,” he said matter-of-factly, with his hands firmly on his hips. “I like my men lean and firm.”

His consternation was cut short by the sound of sirens. Sherry dropped her pricing machine and joined Leon at the door. “How many is it?”

“I don’t know. It sounds like at least one, anyway.”

“Where’s it headed?”

They stood silent, gauging where the fire was. “I see the lights just over there,” Leon pointed.

Sherry surveyed the mall, traffic seemed at a stand still. People normally milling around had stopped to listen. Wade Thomas, the barber next door, appeared.

“I heard there’s a fire over by the school.”

Sherry’s heart thumped in her chest. “Which school?”

“I believe the one that little Denise goes to if I’m not mistaken,” Wade said, his Southern drawl keeping his tone calm.

“Go,” Leon ordered to Sherry. “I’ll watch the store.”

“Thanks.” Sherry grabbed her purse and keys from behind the counter, racing to her car parked out front.

Her heart pounded harder as the engine roared. She missed a light and impatiently waited for it to turn green before speeding straight down the street where her daughter’s school was. A fluffy grey cloud of billowing smoke led the way to the parking lot of the school.

There was a consistent din of chatter when Sherry arrived. Martha, Luke’s mom, made eye contact and walked toward Sherry in the busy parking lot.

“It’s just a fire in the garbage container.” She pointed at the large steel bin encompassing the last quarter of the playground.

The bin was aflame, the blaze so strong it almost reached the side of the building ten feet behind. Two fire trucks encircled the area, one dousing the fire, the other on standby. The truck putting out the fire had a fireman hoisted up the ladder, aiming cold water into the metal receptacle.

“Alan thinks it was set off with an accelerant,” Martha explained with obvious concern. “It caught too fast for it to be from a cigarette butt or the like.”

Alan, the Fire Marshall, was a well known and respected man in town. He and his wife supported every charity and fundraiser coordinated by Reverend Telly, the church’s pastor.

“Jesus,” Sherry exhaled, running her fingers through her hair. “Are they gonna evacuate?”

“Not as far as I know. The kids are safer inside now that they’ve got it under control. Alan says to stick around though, just in case.”

Once the fire was out, the second fire truck pulled away with half the firemen, while the other men cleaned up the area. Alan stopped midway to the pumper to discuss something with his men, before coming over to talk to Martha and Sherry.

“I think we’ve got it out.  Should be fine now.”

“Did anyone see who set it off?” Martha asked.

“Naw. Some kids skippin’ class is my guess,” Alan surmised. “We’ll have a talk over at the high school and see if there’s anyone might’ve been missin’ from period five history or somethin’.”

Alan tipped his head gallantly before leaving. Martha returned to her car, as Sherry stood by her Eldorado, watching the firemen clean up. A plume of smoke still billowed from the trash can, leaving a revolting stench in the surrounding air. It took all her courage not to march into the school and bring her daughter home.

The whole scene reminded Sherry of something. She tried not to think about it but the young widow was cursed with a powerful memory. When it came to her she had a shiver up her spine and quickly slid into her car, as though avoiding a chill. Despite the summer heat, Sherry was compelled to close the windows as she drove back to Peach Tree Clothing.

…

Sherry sat on the porch with Denise, icing cupcakes for the church bake sale as Ned Baker walked by. He leaned his elbow on the wooden banister at the bottom step.

“I hear you’re fixin’ to make some sweets for me, hmm?” he addressed Denise. The kindergartner held one of her cupcakes up high, its pink icing readying to dribble down the side. “Ah, did you need someone to sample one for ya? ‘Cause ya know, I’d be willin’ to make the sacrifice.” His left hand was over his heart.

She handed him the cake and he squished it in his mouth, giving her a thumbs up, chewing with exaggerated intensity while Denise giggled.

“Reverend Telly’ll sure love these!” he said when his mouth was empty. Denise took a napkin from the pile beside her as he bent down so she could wipe the side of his mouth, where his long grey beard caught a few morsels. “Thanks, love. Can I trouble ya for a glass of water?”

Sherry gave her a little pat on the behind as she scurried into the house.

Ned rested a boot on the bottom step. “They’re holdin’ the town meetin’ on Thursday. Ya think you can make it? They’ll be discussin’ Golt’s Road and the new hospital among other things.”

“Sure. I can get Sarah to sit with Denise for me. She hates going to those things anyhow.”

“You can bring the little dumplin’ too, dear. She’s no mind,” he said as Denise appeared with a tall glass of water and ice. “Thanks, doll,” he winked. Denise walked down the stairs, heading for the backyard, to play on her swings. Ned lowered his voice, slipping his head around to make sure Denise was out of earshot. “She’s okay? From the fire at the school I mean?”

“Oh yeah, I don’t think they saw anything. Her class was in the library on the other side at the time.”

“Oh good, good.”

Sherry continued icing the cupcakes as Ned waved to a few people walking by.

“She talkin’ much at all yet?”

“No. Just the same.”

“She’s not had any more of them bad spells, has she?”

“No, she’s due soon, though,” Sherry warned. “Dr. Malcolm teaches her relaxation techniques and aversion therapy.  But nothin’ is guaranteed.”

Ned shook his head, his face was pained. “She sure likes ‘em butterflies, I tell ya.” Ned grabbed a blade of grass from the uneven patch of lawn at his feet, placing it between his teeth. “Little darlin’ had a whole conversation with ‘em last time I heard her,” he spoke dreamily, while looking up at the sky. “She talks like an angel, you know.”

Sherry hesitated. “I know. Before Chris died, she talked up a storm. She had a little...peanut voice.”

“I only wish you’d a heard her.” Ned’s words were apologetic. “Maybe if you got her a stuffed one, ya know? Ya think she’d talk to one?”

Sherry tried to hide her disappointment. “No, we tried that, remember? It only works with real ones. The therapist seems to think she’s sufferin’ from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Ned stood up straight, discarding the blade of grass. “Ya don’t say.”

Sherry set the last cupcake down and sat up taller. “It’s called transference. She believes Chris and butterflies are connected. She’ll only feel safe talking to them until she sees that there’s no real relationship between the dead and an insect. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“One hell of a therapist you’ve got her, I’d say.” Ned cocked his head to the side, impressed. “But does he ever say how long it’ll be until she can talk again? Has she lost the skill for it by now?”

“No. Children learn almost their entire vocabulary by age five, and as you’ve heard yourself, she can speak well. It’s the fear to.”

“Will she be able to read and write?”

“She can write just fine and readin’, well, she understands the words and the story in a book, she just doesn’t verbalize anything.”

“And how do you know all that? Don’t ya ever wonder?” Ned’s face was scrunched with concern.

“Her instructors are trained to teach special needs kids way worse than Denise.”

“Well thank the good Lord for that.” Ned drew in a deep breath, “I best be going. I promised Kate I’d clean the pig pen before supper.” He poked his head in the yard to wave goodbye to Denise. Sherry watched the old farmer’s face fall when he tried to tell her he’d see her later but she didn’t respond. Part of her heart crumbled every time that happened.

Chapter 5

Sherry was packing up the last of Denise’s lunch when she heard a knock at the front door. “It’s open!”

“You been bakin’?” Sarah’s nose was high in the air as she snaked her head inside the door.

“Last night.” Sherry chuckled. “Cupcakes for the bake sale. You goin’?”

“Do cows go moo?” Sarah joked, opening the refrigerator. “Got any milk?  I’m out.”

“Carton. In the back.” Sarah poured a cup of milk, standing by the door.

“I’m not keepin’ ya am I?”

Sherry glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a half hour.”

There was a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the table and a small plate with toast crumbs and a banana peel on it.

“She’s hungry this mornin’.” Sarah tipped her chin towards the dishes.

“Yeah. Finally got her appetite back. Doug said it’d be a couple of days.”

“Did
you
eat?” Sarah asked, giving her an evaluating glance. “Looks like you’re losin’ weight.”

“I had a smoothie while I did my hair.” Sherry lifted the dirty cup out of the sink as proof.

Sarah ignored her and changed the subject. “You goin’ to the town hall meetin’ tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. Ned asked.”

“Need me to mind Denise?”

“Sure. You ain’t busy?”

“Honey, the last thing I want to do is go to some hot, sweaty town hall meetin’ and listen to guys with bigger bellies than mine yell at each other over dog licenses and street names.”

“Well in that case.” Sherry put Denise’s dishes in the sink, leaving the sentence open. “Mark won’t mind?”

“Hell, he’ll be there,” Sarah squeaked. “Who’d y’all think I was talkin’ about? Mark’s belly’s twice the size of mine.” She opened the door and kissed the air, saying goodbye. “See ya later.”

…

Kate was shepherding the freshly-washed pigs into the pen as Sherry drove by, taking Denise to school. She looked in her rear-view mirror and checked to see that nobody was behind her before stopping. “I see Ned did as he was told, did he?” She shouted out the window.

“Damn right, dear. He’s been in trainin’ for over thirty-five years. He’s no amateur.” Kate waved to Denise, who smiled back shyly. “Your parents comin’ down this summer?”

“Should be here the week after school’s out.”

“You hear they didn’t find the one who started the fire at the school yet, eh?” Kate motioned in the direction of the school. “Too many damn divorcees moving into town,” she grumbled. “Kids need two parents for direction.  No offense.” Her right hand rose defensively.

Sherry disregarded the comment. “A little church don’t hurt, either,” she offered. “You comin’ to the bake sale later?”

“Once all the hands get here. Baked enough to feed an army last night. Surprised I’ve got flour left,” she laughed, good-naturedly.

“See you there.” Sherry drove away, tapping her horn twice.

Another mother, Karen, was dropping her daughter Lisa off as Sherry arrived at the school.

“Crazy fire yesterday, wasn’t it?” Karen said.

“Yeah. Thankfully nobody got hurt.”

Denise took Lisa’s hand as they walked into the school. Lisa could talk a little, but she was hearing impaired. Both mothers waved.

“Have fun at school.”

“I hear Alan couldn’t get any eyewitnesses, eh?” Karen said conversationally.

“That’s what Ned told me last night.”

“It’s strange,” Karen added. “We haven’t had any trouble with kids around this town in a while. Wonder what’s causing it.”

Sherry scoffed. “Kate seems to think it’s the recent divorcees moving into town.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Karen cautioned. “Jenny Martin’s young Kevin is trouble. He’s causin’ fights over at the park on Walker St. enough. My Michael had to drag him home to her the other night. He told her she’d best be keepin’ watch on him even though he’s nearly twelve.”

“Oh, really?”

Karen nodded matter-of-factly. “Father left five years ago and she’s been datin’ everybody’s uncle ever since. Way to screw up her boy.”

Sherry scrunched up her face. “Did Alan go over and ask where he was yesterday?”

“Of course. He was in school. Surprised me. I wouldn’t put settin’ fires past him.” Karen adjusted her purse. “Gotta get to work. Meetin’ at nine.” She glanced at her watch “Catcha at church later.”

“See ya.”

Sherry didn’t get past the front door at Peach Tree Clothing, when Leon rushed up to her.

“Please girl, save me.” He handed her a coin like he was passing a secret note. “Coffee. Now.” He waltzed away as she walked out the door, smiling bashfully.

When Sherry entered the café, a new girl about her age was standing behind the counter. She was attractive but not perfect; there was a crescent-shaped scar extending from the side of her mouth, towards her chin. The girl’s name tag read ‘Jenny’. Sherry offered her hand.