The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (80 page)

He stopped outside the family living room. But he didn’t go in. He didn’t trust himself anymore. From the doorway, he looked at the five pictures on the far wall. He found his darling, Philippa, smiling down at him, that sweet little smile of hers, her eyes twinkling with merriment, and Wolf thought he would suffocate. It was the one thing that was missing from his own room—Philippa’s portrait. Initially he had affixed his baby’s picture on the wall opposite his bed, but it had been too painful and he had quickly removed it.

Now, he looked at the little indoor waterfall on his left, then at the large sea shells all around, at the vases with horse heads. He looked at the sunrise wall paper on the east wall, and the sunset one on the west. He gave a little moan and moved away.

His shuffle was that of an old man on last legs as he climbed down the front porch steps. He turned around and peered at the big house and swallowed hard.
Shit, what’s happening to you, man!
he cursed himself and with a quaking breath he turned away. The beautiful garden immediately beckoned him. The roses were suddenly alive in the gray light of evening. They shouted out to him:
come here, Wolf,
they said,
come to us…oh, please do not leave us and go away like this. We love you so much…over the days we’ve become such thick friends…
Like his beloved bed, they too… The rose creepers leaned forward from the stone walls of the house and reached out for him. Bruno came over and looked up at his master. He sensed something was amiss and when Wolf got down on his haunches and embraced his dear friend, Bruno began rubbing his face and neck and flanks ardently against him, then began licking his face. When at length, Wolf got back to his feet, Bruno let out a long wail, stood up on hind legs and hugged him tightly with his front paws. Again the same silent lament:
do not go, Wolf…do not leave us!

“Ready, Wolf?” a voice behind him said. It was Art.

Wolf swallowed again and quickly composed himself. He quietly got behind the wheel of the open jeep. As they reached the main gate, the security personnel rushed out of their cabin.

Wolf paused and lowered his head. He remained still for a moment. Then his leg pushed down on the gas, the vehicle surged forward…and it crossed the threshold of Butcher Garden for the very last time. Wolf felt his heart collapse.

.

I
t was only once they had settled down in one corner of ‘Sharib’ at the airport, that they spoke.

“You must think at some level that my actions are cruel and heartless,” Art said. “But let me assure you it’s not so. I’m not thinking of myself here. I’m thinking of the family, true, but much more crucially, I’m thinking of the little girl—her future, her life.”

Wolf nodded. “I understand.” It was Art’s Christian spirit making him do the things he was doing.

“I may be a businessman, yet I have an acute sense of right and wrong. Certain things are just not on.”

“Yes, I know.”

Art ordered champagne and lime juice. They fell quiet as they waited to be served.

Suddenly, Art spoke again. “Do you think I’m a pitiless man?” he asked...almost eagerly.

“No…no, of course not! I…I know better,” Wolf blurted, a little taken aback. He could clearly see his brother was desperate for his approval.

Wolf saw his brother exhale.

“Thank you,” Art said. “Do you think Robin would’ve arrived by now?”

“Probably.”

“Here, call them and ascertain.” He handed Wolf his cellphone, then downed the glass of champagne in one go. He had it quickly replenished.

Wolf talked into the handset.

“Yes, they’re waiting.”

“We should hurry then,” Art said.

“What’s the haste? Robin isn’t going anywhere now. Let’s enjoy ourselves for a bit. Let’s celebrate.”
One last time.

Art looked at Wolf and Wolf could tell he was already a little high. Then abruptly, Art pushed his glass away.

“I must stop here. I do not want to face the little girl inebriated. It wouldn’t give a nice impression.” He glanced around the room nervously. “Is the woman with the girl?”

“The woman?”

“Miss Burns.”

Oh.
He felt a flush of anger. “Yes.”

They ordered food and Wolf realized he could only pick at it.

“What’s wrong, isn’t the stuff any good? It was your idea to come here,” Art said.

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” In fact, he was remembering the time he and Savannah had come to this restaurant. What a magical day that had been. Oh, what would he give to have one more day like that!
Just one more.
He was missing her awfully. And he was missing Robin awfully. He ached for one last sight of them…ached real bad. He excused himself and went to the washroom. He slapped his right cheek hard, rebuking himself.
This way you’re going to give it away, asshole!
When he returned to the table, he was collected.

But he still couldn’t eat.

Art saw it and pushed his own plate away.

“Never mind, let’s go home.” He called for the check.

As they began to leave, Wolf said, “I must make a phone call. May I borrow your handset? I forgot mine home.”

Art immediately handed it to him. Then he went ahead, so Wolf could make his call in privacy.

Rochelle picked up at the other end.

“It’s me again,” Wolf said, his voice subdued. “May I talk to Savannah?” He hadn’t dared to call her directly.

Rochelle seemed surprised, but nevertheless she told him to hold.

He was barely breathing as he waited.

“Yes?” a familiar female voice said after a while. A familiar female voice that made him catch his breath sharply…that brought a lump to his throat.

“Wolf? Is that you?”

“Y…yes.”

She waited. He knew he would have to take it from here.

“Savannah…” he stuttered.
Hurry it up!
“Go to the Internet and check your mail. It…it’s urgent.” He paused for an instant, then added, “I…I…” But he could not continue and he cut the connection, then quickly deleted the log.

As he slowly made his way out of the restaurant, he finished the unsaid words:
I love you, Savannah. Oh, baby, I love you so much. I’m really, really sorry it has to be this way. But there was no other way. Please forgive me, my love
.

.

S
avannah stood very still.

“What’s it? What did he want?” Rochelle asked, seeing her face. “Savannah?”

Savannah looked up. Her face was strained. She was still reeling from the shock of her recent discovery.

“He wants me to check my e-mail,” she said tiredly.

“Do you want to?” Rochelle asked. “You may use the laptop in Uncle Grant’s study.”

Savannah remembered the first time Wolf had called her many nights ago and told her likewise to check her e-mail, and the consequent result of that call—the terror that had followed.

Rochelle put a hand on Savannah’s forearm.

Savannah clicked her tongue. Well, that was an entirely different situation. Today, she and Wolf were already finished. She had nothing more to lose. A bitter smile came to her lips and she nodded at Rochelle.

In Grant’s study, Rochelle logged Savannah on, then left the room.

Savannah was trying to be nonchalant, but despite, she found her hand was unsteady as she opened her mailbox. His mail was right there on top of the heap—two of them, in fact. One said, ‘For Sav’. The other, ‘For my little Butterfly’. She held her breath and clicked on ‘For Sav’.

As she began reading the mail, a terrible sinking feeling began to form in her core. As she read more, the sinking feeling swelled, then spread forth swiftly, until it swamped her every fiber. Somehow she finished reading and then her eyes rolled upward in their sockets and she fainted, falling off the chair, collecting in a huddled heap on the floor. Wolf’s letter still flickered on the screen.

Savannah, my love,

I don’t have much time, so I’ll be quick. And it’s most unfortunate it has to be this way—to be honest, it breaks my very core. But then I look at the bigger picture, like I have steadfastly looked at the bigger picture these last many days, and somehow I carry on.

You must think poorly of me the way I’ve treated you these past few weeks. You (and Dad and Roch) must be pained at what you must consider my radical transformation, a virtual metamorphosis.

In truth, I never turned my back on you—not for a second. It was all a charade.

But there was no other way.

How do you stop an omnipotent God…an inexorable marauding God? Only a very stupid person would confront someone like that openly and head-on, for that would be a sure-shot recipe for suicide. This I realized over the past weeks, being a constant companion to Art. Moreover, don’t we know all too well the power he has over Dad, and Ian Cass, and all the other big people of New Halcyon?

And yet, Art has to be stopped. Somehow. Someway. And he has to be stopped in a way that will not shame Dad.
THAT
IS THE MOST CRITICAL THING IN ALL THIS.

I’ve thought long and hard over this, with a calm and clear mind, and finally reached a conclusion (an agonizing one), that there is only one way to stop Art.

The charade that I’ve perpetrated over the last few weeks was the only way to snake myself into Art’s confidence and get him to trust me completely…to get him to drop his guard with me. And know what? Dad was my inspiration! I remembered how he had pretended to act against me all these days and how successful he’d been. Well, like father, like son—I copied him. Or you can say I turned the tables on him…though in a good way. Like his, mine was a charade too. And I succeeded…no small thanks to my skills as a professional actor. But these past weeks have been the most difficult of my life.

I cannot tell you how I’ve bled sitting there in the courtroom beside Art and seeing you being ravaged and violated in the most foul manner, hour after hour, day after day. It tore me apart to keep a cold face, while my heart fried away at your agony.

How often did I want to rush over and take you in my arms, to tell you it was going to be alright, to shout out and tell those bastards to stop it…STOP IT! How badly I wanted to press your face to my chest and take away all your pain. If only I could hide you inside me, so no one could ever reach out and hurt you again. But I kept looking at the larger picture and somehow kept my arms folded. It was heartrending. It was like raping your own self, over and over and over.

In the past few weeks I’ve died a million deaths, Savannah. But finally, it’ll all be over. Remember that day of the dreadful hostage drama? After it was over you had said to me, “I cannot live without Robin now…I’d die without her.” And I had promised you that would never happen…I wouldn’t allow it to happen. Well, as you read this, I’ll have kept my promise. No one will attempt to separate you and the most precious thing in your life ever again.

And I’ll have kept my promise to Dad…a promise I had made him later that same night at the swimming pool. Art will never have the opportunity to hurt him anymore. It’s the least I can do for this remarkable man. Hadn’t it been for him, I wouldn’t have been alive today in the first place—hadn’t he taken me in his wide embrace after the family tragedy, I would long have been dead. And hadn’t he sent Rochelle to the beach that day, I would again have been dead. I owe him my life many times over. It’s payback time today. Like I said, it’s the least I can do for him.

And I’ll have kept my promise to Rochelle, that I made to myself but never mentioned to her. She saved my life too. Hadn’t she kicked the bottle of sleeping pills out of my hand, I would long have been a portrait on the wall. I owe her big time too. Art will no longer be able to harm her. That amazing woman will at last have her freedom and a fresh shot at life—without a constant threat to her life. She deserves it—every bit of it. The way she has unwaveringly stood by me from the very beginning… What can I say? I only wish I could’ve done much, much more for her.

Dad almost sacrificed himself this evening. Thank goodness I happened in the nick of time. Dad is too valuable. Not just for this family, but for the whole nation…for all humanity, to tell the truth. Where in today’s world a man of such character, of such pure quality? Too many people look up to him, for guidance, for leadership. Moreover, this is my battle. If I’ve had the great joy of loving you, Savannah, it also falls on me to be true to that love.