The Butterfly’s Daughter (22 page)

Luz sat back in her chair and shook her head in confusion.

The baby made soft grunting noises that immediately riveted Ofelia's attention. Ofelia removed her from her swaddling, checked her diaper, then, finding it dry, clumsily tried to swaddle the baby again. After much mumbling and fumbling, Ofelia just wrapped up the baby any way she could and held her close. When she settled, Ofelia puffed a hair out of her face. She looked over at Luz and offered a mollifying grin.

“Hey, Luz, it's like a fairy tale, eh? Everyone changes a story a little for her own child. Maybe Abuela wanted you to have butterflies and goddesses. I like that better myself.” She looked at her baby. “Don't you,
mi amor
?” Ofelia bent to kiss her baby's forehead. Then she laughed a tired laugh. “Besides, who can ever get those Aztec gods' names right? There's so many of them—fire, rain, flowers, sun, butterflies—Xochi this and Quetzal that.”

Luz didn't reply. It was impossible to even consider that Abuela got her story wrong or that she would have deliberately changed it. But Ofelia seemed so sure.

The door opened and Margaret poked her head in. Her blond hair fell like water. She looked anxiously at Ofelia, then Luz. “Sorry to bother you. The nurse said we only have a few minutes before we have to leave. I was wondering, hoping rather . . . Can I see the baby?”

Luz felt a sudden chill in the room and glanced at Ofelia. It
looked as if a cloud had darkened her brow. “Margaret let me stay with her last night,” Luz told Ofelia, letting her know that things had changed.

“Oh yeah? That's nice. Uh, sure, come on in,” Ofelia said, but her tone remained wary.

Margaret approached with hesitation, her gaze fixed on the baby. “She's so little,” she said in an awestruck voice. “And so beautiful.”

Ofelia's guard lowered and she smiled despite herself, turning her gaze to her daughter. “Six and a half pounds,” she said proudly. She sized Margaret up, then reluctantly offered, “Want to hold her?”

Margaret was stunned by the offer and back-stepped. “Me? I've never held a baby before. Not one so little.”

“You're kidding, right? Well, it's easy. Put your arms out,” Ofelia instructed, waving her over.

Margaret came closer, walking stiffly.

“Take it easy. She won't bite. She doesn't have any teeth!” Ofelia gently laid the baby in Margaret's outstretched arms. “Now support her head. Careful! That's right.”

Margaret stood in icy composure, holding the baby stiffly. Luz shot Ofelia a look that asked, Are you sure it's safe?

Ofelia only shrugged with a knowing smile, then returned her sharp gaze to her child. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” Margaret choked out. “I'll just stand.”

Margaret stared quietly at the baby's face. As the seconds ticked, Luz watched in amazement as she witnessed a small crack in Margaret's brittle composure. It was what she imagined a crack in an Arctic glacier must look like, a deep fissure, ice streaming as it thawed. Suddenly, Margaret's eyes welled with tears.

Ofelia chuckled sweetly. “Yeah, she has that effect on everyone.”

Luz didn't know what to say, so she said nothing, embarrassed to witness such a personal moment.

Margaret sniffed and gently returned the baby to Ofelia's arms. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then, embarrassed by her runaway emotions, she mumbled her good-bye, turned, and hurried from the room.

Mrs. Penfold came in as Margaret left. Her face appeared troubled as it followed Margaret's hasty exodus.

Ofelia's face flooded with joy at seeing her. “Mrs. P! She's had her first feeding!” Ofelia exclaimed.

“Really?” All worry fled from Mrs. Penfold's face as she rushed to Ofelia's side. She lifted the baby into her arms and made soft clucking noises, enraptured.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Luz asked Ofelia. “Will you stay here in Kansas or head south to your aunt in Florida?”

Ofelia's face froze in indecision and she swung her head to look at Mrs. Penfold.

“Oh, she'll stay here for a while,” Mrs. Penfold spoke up. “We'll take good care of her and this sweetums, won't we?” Her eyes danced as she gazed at the baby. “Oh, yes we will!”

Luz watched Mrs. Penfold hover over the baby like a mother hen and knew that Ofelia would be taken care of. She could leave. It was a bittersweet moment and she rose reluctantly from her chair. “I better go,” she said.

Ofelia leaned forward, reaching out to grab Luz's arm. “You're not leaving, like really leaving, are you?”

“You know I have to get back on the road. I've got to make it to Mexico by November first.”

“Oh, Luz, I can't stand that you're leaving.”

“Don't cry!” Luz admonished with a short laugh. “It'll spoil your makeup.”

“See? You're my best friend!” Ofelia gave a hiccupy laugh. “My only friend! What am I going to do without you?”

“You'll be so busy taking care of that baby you won't even miss me,” Luz replied, but she hoped Ofelia would miss her, as she knew she'd miss Ofelia. Then a thought jumped into her brain that so surprised her she put her hand to her cheek. “Oh! I almost forgot. What should I do with Serena?” Just saying the little dog's name filled Luz with sadness that she'd be leaving this new friend, as well.

“Serena?” Ofelia said, her face creased with worry. “I don't know!
Ay,
how could I've forgotten my other sweet baby? What should I do? It'll be hard enough to take care of this one baby. And I don't even have a place. I love her, but what am I going to do with a dog, too?”

“Don't look at me,” Mrs. Penfold said with her hands up. “I have cats.”

Luz licked her lips. Her mind was screaming for her to be quiet, but her heart screamed louder. “I'll keep her.”

Ofelia released a short laugh of disbelief. “You? But you don't even like her.”

“Maybe not at first, but she kind of grows on you. We get along fine now and she's good company. Really,” she confessed. “I'd love to have her.”

Ofelia laughed again with surprise and nodded. “I don't think I could have given her to anyone else. She's a good little dog. Sweet, but a little bossy sometimes.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Ofelia held out her arms in a typically dramatic gesture, teary once again. Luz stepped into her embrace.

“Promise you'll visit?” Ofelia said.

“I promise. Kansas isn't so far. And I've a new liking for road trips. But you have to promise to send pictures.”

“
Yo prometo
. Be careful,” Ofelia said, squeezing her tight.

“Be happy,” Luz replied.

Luz pulled back and put on a brave smile. Wiping her eyes, she headed toward the door.

“Wait!” Ofelia called after her. She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a pair of small pink booties. “I made these. They're not very good, but I tried hard. Please, take them. They're for Abuela. For her
ofrenda
.”

Luz took the crocheted booties, deeply moved. They looked impossibly small in her hand. She looked at the baby squirming and making soft mewling noises in Mrs. Penfold's arms.

“I never asked! What did you name her?”

Ofelia reached up to smooth a lock of dark hair on her infant's head with her finger. When she looked back at Luz, her smile was smug.

“I named her Luz, of course.”

During their long migration, monarchs must stop to rest, feed, and drink. They also seek protection and roost during storms or other adverse conditions. When conditions improve, they fly!

L
uz was in the driveway of Margaret's condo building, packing her suitcase into the trunk of her car, when Margaret came from the garage carrying a cooler.

“Chilled water and some fruit for your trip,” she said, drawing near. “And in here”—she lifted a blue and green paper bag with the name of a local bookstore emblazoned across it—“is some trail mix, gum, and a candy bar. Oh, and a fresh pillowcase for your pillow. And don't let that dog sleep on it. It's not healthy.”

“Hey, thanks. Now I won't have to make a stop.” Luz took hold of the cooler, taken aback once more by Margaret's thoughtfulness. When she opened the car door, Serena promptly jumped in, looking smart in the new pink beribboned collar with matching leash that Mrs. Penfold had purchased for her. The Chihuahua sniffed the backseat, searching until she found the box of ashes under the pillow. She proceeded to dig into the pillow till she deemed it comfortable, then walked around in a circle and nestled in, resting her chin in her paws.

“Hopeless,” muttered Margaret.

Serena looked up at her with her round eyes unblinking.

Luz pushed the front seat back into place. Spread out neatly on the seat was one bottle of water, her maps, her purse, her phone. “Well, I guess that's everything.”

“Wait, I just thought of something.” Margaret ran back to her open garage. A moment later she returned lugging two green parcels.

“What are these?” asked Luz.

“My tent and sleeping bag. Remember I told you that my dad bought them for me years ago? Well, here they are, like brand-new. I've never used them. It's time somebody did.”

“I can't take them.”

“Take them,” she said, thrusting them into Luz's arms. They smelled slightly of mildew, but still had the tags. “You never know, you might need them. They're only collecting dust here. Besides, I've always wanted to go see the butterflies. At least my tent can make the trip.” She tightened her lips and looked away with an embarrassed laugh.

Luz put the tent and sleeping bag in the trunk and paused with her hands resting on the dusty plastic. She looked up again at Margaret, who was standing with her arms tight around her chest, like she was trying with all her might to hold herself together. Luz blew out a plume of air, closed the trunk, and climbed into the car, wondering at the sadness she'd seen in Margaret's eyes. Abuela used to say that a person's sadness was like a well. Nobody knew how deep it went.

She didn't know Margaret. There was something about her when she'd first met her that made her feel chilled—it wasn't only that she looked bright white with her sculptured features and air of superiority. But today Luz had been surprised to discover that
Margaret wasn't a stereotype after all. Behind her marble features beat a heart that had known pain and loss and was capable of acts of real kindness. If only she wasn't so buttoned up and locked down, Luz thought. If anyone needed to hear the call of Xochiquetzal, Margaret did.

Luz hesitated, her hands on the wheel, and recalled the words
Who will bring light to the world?
She took a deep breath.

“Margaret? Why don't you come along?”

Margaret swung her head to look at her, shocked. “What?”

“Come with me. I have room and you said you wanted to see the monarchs.”

“Me? I . . . I can't just go! I've got my job. Responsibilities.”

Luz thought of Abuela's words to her. “Your work will always be there. Come on, Margaret. Jump in.”

Margaret shook her head and took two steps back. “No, no, I can't. Mrs. Penfold depends on me, especially now with Ofelia. I have to find a job for her, an apartment. Then there's the end-of-season sale coming up. There's so much to do . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Okay, then,” Luz said, feeling a little guilty for the whisper of relief she felt. The offer had been an impulsive act on her part, but hadn't Abuela said impulses that came from the heart were good? “Thanks for everything.” Then, with nothing more to say, she started the engine. “I'm off!”

Margaret lifted one hand, almost like a salute. “Good luck!”

Luz turned her head to meet Margaret's gaze and held it. “We make our own luck.”

Margaret's face went still.

Luz rolled down the window and waved a final good-bye.

“Okay, Abuela. We're on our way again.” She shifted into reverse
and rolled back into the street. She'd just shifted into first gear when she heard Margaret's voice shouting.

“Luz, wait! Stop!”

Luz jerked her head around to see Margaret running after the car, arms flailing in the air. Luz hit the squeaky brakes, ground the gear into reverse, and drove back to the driveway.

Margaret ran to the door and clutched it, breathing hard. “I've changed my mind,” she said in a choppy cadence. “I want to go with you! Can I?”

“Yes!” Luz blurted out with surprise at the wildness in Margaret's eyes. Luz had seen that desperation in Margaret's eyes at breakfast when they talked about her mother. And again when she held the baby. Something must have just snapped in her. “What changed your mind?”

“Everything,” Margaret said.

Once Margaret composed herself, she fell into character and created a long to-do list to tackle before she could leave on the trip. First on her list was a call to Mrs. Penfold, who took the news of her intended leave of absence without any problem. She even encouraged Margaret to take her time and enjoy her adventure. So much for Mrs. Penfold not being able to get along without her, Luz thought with a smothered smile. Then Luz's smile faded to openmouthed admiration when she overheard Margaret offering Ofelia her condo to live in until she got back. That gesture nudged Margaret up several notches in Luz's esteem.

But she slipped down again when she suggested to Luz that they take her sedan to Mexico instead of Luz's Volkswagen.

“What? No!” Luz cried, recoiling at the thought.

“Be reasonable, Luz. My car is way better than yours,” Margaret replied. “I, uh, I mean, newer,” Margaret amended. “Yours might not make it.”

“Didn't your mama ever tell you to think before you speak?”