The Butterfly’s Daughter (24 page)

“I think you'd be great working with people, Luz. You're a good listener. You can't just give up, that's not like you. You can still go to school. You should.”

“How?” Luz said dejectedly. “I don't have any money.”

“Oh, come on,” Margaret replied with a hint of exasperation. “If you want it bad enough you can find a way. I did. There are a lot of programs available. You just have to know where to look. When we get back, I'll help you.”

It was a simple offer, made almost offhandedly, but Luz grasped
it, feeling the first rush of hope for what the next phase of her life might be. She'd been traveling on this journey, believing in her heart that it was a personal odyssey, but she'd not considered what she'd do when she returned home. It didn't have to be more of the same. And here was Margaret, kicking her butt, forcing her to see how her life
could
change.

“Which brings me to the second reason I'm going on this trip,” Margaret continued, screwing the top back on the water bottle. “
Time
. I don't see many babies. My girlfriends have them but I don't see them much. To be honest, I never really wanted to. Usually they stay home with a sitter when we go out. So this morning when I held Ofelia's baby, I stared down at this beautiful infant, all pink and sweet-smelling, and it hit me—like a slap against the skull—that I'm probably never going to have a child of my own.”

“Oh, come on, Margaret. You're not that old.” Luz studied Margaret. She was slender and her face was smooth, even without makeup. Only faint crow's-feet marred her milky skin. “How old
are
you?”

“Thirty-seven,” she replied thinly.

Now it was Luz's turn to scoff. “You make yourself sound ancient. That's still young.”

Margaret gave her a recriminatory look. “Like I said. My phone isn't ringing. I'm good at a lot of things, but I'm not good at small talk and flirting and all those feminine tricks for attracting men. Never was. I can sit at a table and talk shop till the cows come home, but ask me to hold a drink and charm a guy and I'm bored out of my mind. Every once in a blue moon a friend hooks me up with a man.” She shrugged. “I'm not willing to settle just to be with a guy and get married.”

Luz looked at her bottled water. “Sully wants to get married.
Just the idea of it makes me nervous. I thought girls were supposed to be excited and happy at the prospect. I wish I was.”

“Maybe you don't love him.”

“That's the thing. I
do
love him. But do I love him for who he is, or for the security he offers me? He's strong and steady. For someone like me, without any family, that offers a lot.” She thought of Billy with his Bohemian lifestyle, his intellect, his ease of speech, and his tantalizing smile. “Or do I want someone completely different? Someone with passion and surprises? Oh, I'm not sure,” she said with a heartfelt sigh. “I don't want to settle, either.”

“Just don't say ‘I do' until you know the answer to those questions.”

“I know,” Luz replied soberly. “I've got a lot to figure out about myself before I can commit to any man. I love Sully but I'm confused. I don't know what's best for
me
right now.”

Margaret nodded emphatically. “I spent so much time working for my future, I don't know myself either. Do you know what I think? The only time that matters is right now.” She raised her water bottle. “This brings me to my final reason why I jumped on board this trip.” She peered at Luz. “
You.
”

“
Me?
What did I do?”

“It's what you're doing! You're going to Texas, and then Mexico, even if it means risking your life in this old jalopy. When I see you I see a girl with a passion. A girl who's lost her mother and grandmother. I see a girl like I used to be and want to be again.” She turned her head to look out the window. “You started off, leaving me behind, and then you uttered my mother's words to me. Something inside me clicked. I just knew I had to go. I think that's what my mother meant when she said I had to make my own luck. I had to trust my intuition. Like you, I'd missed my chance to go with my
mother, but that adventure we'd dreamed about is still there. I'm alive, I've got my health. What was I waiting for?” She turned back to face Luz, smiling. “Does that answer your question?”

Luz reached over to pat Margaret's hand. It was a rush to think she'd helped Margaret see the light, as she put it. What Margaret didn't realize was that she'd done the same for Luz. “Kindred spirits. I knew it.”

Luz peered out the window. The storm had blown past and the rain was a steady drizzle. “We should go,” she said, reaching for her safety belt. Luz fired up the engine, turned on her signal, and guided the car safely back onto the highway. El Toro's engine sputtered as it struggled to gain speed and the girls laughingly called out, “Go, go, go!”

The sky was clearing over the vast acres of farmland and great shafts of light broke through purple clouds. Luz smiled as she gazed out the windshield at a road that appeared bathed in glittering light.

Monarchs begin the journey as individuals; however, they will gather in number in different places and at different times. No one knows if the butterflies seek each other out and fly together on purpose, or if they just happen to be heading in the same direction to the same place.

A
n hour later they were somewhere in Oklahoma and the sky was turning dusky as the sun lowered in the west.

“I'm starting to wonder when an exit is coming up,” said Luz, chewing her lip.

“With a motel,” Margaret added. “I haven't seen an exit sign for miles. We should be coming close to Oklahoma City. If I could just get connected on the Internet I could get us a reservation somewhere.”

“Something will turn up,” Luz said.

Margaret lifted her phone near the window. “I can't even get a cell phone connection out here.”

Luz glanced at Margaret, her thoughts turning to Sully. “I knew I forgot something! My phone charger. Damn.”

“You can pick one up.”

Luz mentally kicked herself. She could see the charger sitting on the desk in Margaret's den. “I'm guessing my phone is dead.”

“If you need to call someone, you can always use mine.”

“Yeah, thanks. I'd like to leave a message for my boyfriend. Just so he knows I'm safe.”

“When was the last time you called him?”

“I haven't since Chicago.”

“Oh.”

“It's not that I don't want to call him. I'm just not sure I want to hear him tell me how I should turn around and come back home.”

“Why is he—”

The silence was suddenly rent by the resounding blare of a horn. Margaret yelped and Luz jumped, clinging to the wheel. In her rearview mirror she saw an enormous RV coming up fast, its headlights bearing down on them. The bus looked like a whale about to eat a minnow.

“Go around, jerk!” Luz shouted, and waved her hand out the window. She swung her head to look out the window as the behemoth roared close in the left lane. It was a huge RV painted with wild purple psychedelic swirls. Two guys in the front, longhaired and bearded, pointed at El Toro and laughed before the RV changed gears and pushed past them, belching fumes and rattling the VW as if it weighed no more than a leaf.

“I don't believe it!” Margaret cried. “I think I just got mooned!”

“Really?” Luz squinted out the front windshield but the RV was already too far up the road. “I'm sorry I missed that.”

“Don't be,” Margaret said with disgust.

Luz didn't know which was funnier, the mooning or Margaret's reaction. No matter where they were, or what the speed limit, cars and trucks passed them by. El Toro never pushed beyond fifty-five miles per hour. But Luz had to admit, this was ignominious.

Luz patted the dashboard. “That's okay, Toro. Don't let them rattle you. You just keep plugging along. Let
them
get the ticket.”

“I doubt there's a policeman within fifty miles of here. We're really in the middle of nowhere. We need to find a place soon.” They pushed on a little farther, and in answer to their prayers, the next road sign showed the distinct KOA campground letters.

“Let's get off here,” Margaret said, pointing.

Luz took a quick glance. “A campground? You're kidding, right?”

“No, it's safe. I've been camping lots of times in the Girl Scouts.”

“But where do we sleep?”

“We've got the tent!”

“Yeah, okay,” Luz replied, remembering. Luz was a city girl and had never been camping before. Sully was always asking her to go camping with him in Wisconsin but she never understood the lure of sleeping outdoors on the cold ground when there was a warm bed available. “Are there toilets? That flush? I don't want to dig holes in the dirt and make offerings to the moon.”

Margaret chuckled. “Yes, and yes. There's hot water, too. Look,” she said more seriously. “It's almost seven thirty and the office will close soon. We're beat and you can't drive much farther. There might be a motel up the road, but who knows how far. Let's just go in and get the scoop. We can always get back on the road. Besides, this is an adventure, right?”

Luz flicked the turn signal and took the exit. They followed the narrow, rutted gravel road bordered by tall trees that blocked the day's final pale rays of light. Dry leaves skittered noisily across the gravel. Luz pulled up in front of a pretty gabled wood cabin with a wide porch bedecked with flowers. A neat arrangement of dark green shrubs bordered the walkway, and behind it, a large yellow sign emblazoned with a green and red tented KOA emblem read
CAMPSITE REGISTRATION
.

“Lock your door,” Luz ordered as they stepped into the lot. Serena jumped up to stare out the window, whining to join them. “I'll only be a minute,” she told the dog, and hated the pleading she saw in her eyes. The temperature had dropped to the low sixties, comfortable enough, but she felt moisture in the air and frowned up at the sky. Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked toward the cabin. Suddenly the bell over the front door jingled and a stocky, middle-aged man in a USMC cap emerged, carrying a big bag of ice.

“Evenin', ladies,” he said in a southern drawl, holding the door as the two walked in.

Inside, the cabin was designed as a lobby. Heavy wood chairs covered in red plaid fabric sat around a low table made of logs and glass. Brochures and a photo album of the campground invited you to sit and browse. To one side, a small store lined with shelves looked picked over at season's end. On the opposite side was a long wood registration counter, behind which sat an unusually thin, elderly woman with short, red hair almost as bright as the fabric on the chairs. She was watching a small TV tucked in the corner and turned with reluctance to greet them in a tired voice. Luz couldn't blame her. It was almost closing time.

“Hey there.” She hardly took a breath before she launched into a rote description of the campground and all its amenities, which were many. Apparently, it being midweek and postsummer, they were lucky. If it were summer, she assured them, they might not find a space available just waltzing in without a reservation. Things being what they were, however, she could offer them a very nice site just a short walk to the bathrooms and showers for twenty-five dollars for one night's stay. She ended with an apology that the pool had just closed for the rest of the season, but instead, she'd
offer them some wood for their campfire, free of charge. “Seeing as you're the last customers of the day.”

Maybe all those years pinching pennies with Abuela rubbed off, because a hot shower and a cheap place to stay was all Luz needed for convincing. The caretaker handed them a map and some bound firewood, then shut and locked the cabin door after them.

The girls followed the map past the playground and swimming pool, beyond a cluster of Kozy Kabins, to lot number 315.

“It's cute!” Luz declared when she caught sight of the picnic table and a fire pit at their assigned spot. As soon as Margaret opened her door Serena weaseled out from the back and began scampering off, her nose to the ground. Luz rushed after her, stepping on the leash, jerking Serena to a stop. The dog looked back at Luz with accusation.

“You're a city girl like me. I don't want you to get lost,” Luz said, stroking under the dog's chin. She yawned and stretched her arms far out, looking around. The park was nearly empty. Only one neighbor was visible in a nice spot under a maple, aflame with color. It was a small, white RV, the kind pulled by a car. A blue awning was pulled out and under it sat an elderly, white-haired couple on two matching blue canvas chairs. The two of them sat watching them without expression. Luz smiled and waved. Neither responded. They just kept watching.

“Never mind them. Let's go find the showers before it gets too dark,” Margaret said.

The small cinder-block bathroom building had narrow vent windows near the ceiling, two sinks, two toilets, and two shower stalls. She'd seen the empty bucket and mop near the entry and caught the faint scent of bleach, but seeing the silverfish in a corner and the cracks in the tile, Luz wished she'd brought some
flip-flops. The night was chilly so Luz wasted no time undressing and stepping under the downpour of hot water. While she scrubbed, she heard a woman singing some Widespread Panic song in a neighboring stall. She had a lusty voice that went so off-key on the high notes that Luz almost choked on the water as she laughed. She showered in record time and, shivering, dried off and changed into fresh underwear, jeans, a hoodie, and thick socks while Margaret took her turn. The woman in the second stall was still singing when they left.