The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (81 page)

It’s not for Dad to stop Art; it is my job. Dad has done enough for me…too much, actually. Now, it’s my turn.

There were a thousand ways to eliminate Art. But with each way there was a risk—the slightest chance—that I shall eventually be found out. And that would be completely unacceptable, for it would bring untold humiliation and disgrace on Dad—a humiliation and disgrace he would have to carry all his life, a humiliation and disgrace he may not be able to bear. IN NO WAY CAN I ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN. So, after much heartbreaking deliberation, this was the only path I could think of that was absolutely foolproof…the only way to ensure that no one will ever know outside of the family. It shall look like a dreadful accident, a disaster…yet another Butcher family tragedy. And Dad shall not be shamed. The Butcher family shall not be shamed.

I love you deeply, Savannah. You coming into my life has enriched me—more than you’ll ever realize. I loved you the first time we happened on the Internet. I’ve loved you ever since…even before we actually met. And then I met you and I loved you even more. Nothing has dented my love for you. All the ordeals, the tribulations we faced have only gone to cement that bond. You are the only true love I’ve had in my life and I shall forever carry you in my heart, in my mind, in my every cell. You and Robin. The two women who together gave Wolf Butcher a new lease on life and made it worth living again.

Oh, what I’d give to be with you right now…to hold you in my arms one last time, to feel your soft warmth against me, to breathe your fine scent. To say goodbye like this is pathetic…it is very painful. But what can I do? … Except to look at the bigger picture, again and again, and console myself.

I must end here. Art might wake up and need me.

I’m writing a separate letter to Robin. I’m sending it to your address. But she must not know the truth—only that it was an accident.

Be well, Savannah. Take care of my little Butterfly (and you are the greatest mother alive), and have a great life. And don’t you dare forget me as the days and years roll by. LOL.

Oh, baby, I love you so much! I love you, I love you, I love you…more than I can ever adequately express. As I say goodbye, my heart is jammed with warmth and affection and love for you and Robin.

Farewell my sweet Butterfly.

Yours and only yours,

Wolf.

P.S.: I’m sending curtailed copies of this letter to Dad and Roch, at their address. Tell them to read it and then immediately trash it and shred it (and so must you).

P.P.S.: So why am I explaining everything in such painstaking detail? Because not only do I want you all to understand why I did what I did, but also because I don’t want you all to think ill of me for the last. I’m still so horribly, horribly vain. LOL.

.

A
s Wolf neared the jeep, he was assailed by sudden panic and stopped dead in his tracks.

Art was sitting behind the wheel, the engine turning in idle, primed to set off.

For a second, Wolf remained frozen. Then with long strides, he marched to the driver’s side.

“What…what’re you doing?” he mumbled, almost agitatedly.

Art smiled genially. “You’re tired. You rest, I’ll drive.”

Oh, no, no!
“No!” Wolf blurted. “
You
rest, I’ll drive. You need to take it easy.”

“You fret too much, Wolf,” Art said, patting his brother on the shoulder. “But this time I’m not giving in. You either take the passenger seat or you find your own transport home.” His smile widened, but there was a resolve on his face that Wolf by now knew very well brooked no dissent.

Wolf felt suddenly sick, as if his very lifeline—in truth, his
deathline
—had been snatched from him. He could see his plot exploding in his face. If he didn’t get to drive the jeep, he was sunk. And sunk were Savannah and Robin, and Dad and Rochelle. He looked at Art and saw he was waiting patiently. Wolf’s head blew up and his eyes darted around wildly, as if searching for something…some weapon. He could’ve killed Art right there. His eyes fell on a fair-sized rock fifteen feet away to his left.

He made a mad dash for it, picked up the rock and sprinting back, rammed it on Art’s head, killing him instantly.

But it happened only in his mind. In truth, he hadn’t moved a whisker. He stood dazed, gaping at Art.

Then he saw Art throw up his arms and giggling to himself he began shifting to the passenger seat.

“Alright, Wolf, you want to drive so badly, so be it. No need to be so distraught.”

Wolf began to breathe again as he got behind the now vacant wheel.

Art placed a hand on his brother’s back. “I know it has been a difficult time. But you need to relax. Everything’s going to be well again. Leave it to me.”

Wolf looked at him. His brother’s face was kind and supportive and Wolf thought there was just a hint of a vague sorrow in Art’s eyes.

Oh, you’re only imagining it.
Art and sorrowful? It was as incongruous as water and oil. He engaged gear and they were on their way.

They were quiet for the first few miles.

Then Wolf spoke.

“Can I ask you something?” he said abruptly.

“Please do.”

“You’re not Robin’s real father, are you?” Simultaneously he glanced at Art and even in the semi-dark he could see his eyes shift.

“What does it matter? After all, I’m not going to be raising her, you are. I did it for you.”

Despite that he had expected it, to hear the words now shocked Wolf.

“How did you do it? I mean the DNA tests. Aren’t the procedures foolproof? There are strict chain-of-custody protocols and all that.”

Art budged uncomfortably. “There’s no point talking of all this. Something had to be done, something that was right, and sometimes the end justifies the means.”

“Still, I’d like to know.”

He heard Art sigh. “Robin is a Butcher child. She always belonged to us. That was the only reason for my insistence on having her with us. Otherwise, whatever people may think, I have no interest whatsoever in breaking up any mother and child, no matter what that mother might be.”

Wolf inhaled deeply. “If you were so concerned about Robin being a Butcher child and belonging to us, why did you agree on getting her adopted by others like the Pringles and Hardings, even Cass? Our family would’ve lost her forever then.”

“It wasn’t my idea, it was Cass’s. I just played along for public consumption so as not to give my hand away at that time.”

“Wasn’t Cass your puppet all along? How then could he take such a monumental initiative on his own?”

“Well, he has a mind of his own too and sometimes insists on asserting himself. During those times one humors him and tactically plays along, even seemingly supports his ideas,” Art answered.

“What if in the process Robin’s adoption had gone through?”

Art gave a little smile. “It would never have happened,” he said…emphasizing each word. “I knew you would somehow thwart all such attempts. Your love for Robin was simply too intense for you to let her be separated from you. You would have died but not allowed her to go to someone else. I had no doubt about that in my mind and I was right.”

But then it struck Wolf and he felt a worm climb up his back.

“If you aren’t Robin’s father, how is she a Butcher child? … Who’s it?” His voice had fallen to a whisper.

“Sage.”

The steering wheel turned in Wolf’s hands.

“Steady!” Art said. “He was a good man, but a weak man. He fell in love with this…this rather pedestrian woman, a waitress, then got her pregnant. Both, your father and I, were appalled by Sage’s behavior. It so went against the family self-respect.”

Wolf’s hands gripped the steering wheel hard. “So you broke them up?”

“At your father’s behest. Initially, Sage was reluctant to part with the woman. But finally I made him understand. After all, he had the Butcher blood in him, just like you.”

“But Robin suffered as a consequence,” Wolf said, barely managing to keep the rasp out of his voice.

“That was the unfortunate part. Whatever that woman was, Robin was still Sage’s daughter, a Butcher, and deserved to be with the family.”

Wolf took deep breaths. He wasn’t sure he could control himself much longer. But…
easy!
he told himself.
You don’t want to give your hand away now. Just a few minutes more…

“But of course you didn’t know Savannah had abandoned her daughter,” Wolf said, for something to say. His mind had begun to rumble. He felt Art shift awkwardly again and Wolf’s heart cut a beat. He glared at his brother. “You knew?”

Art pursed his lips. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“I don’t understand.”

Art sighed again. “Your father and I hired a private detective firm…you know…to keep an eye on Ms. Burns. We were scared she would try to blackmail the family after Sage had left her…you know…to extract more money or something. These types usually do. So we had a constant vigil kept on her. Initially our plan was to keep an eye for about a year and if she showed no signs of interest in our family we would drop it.”

“So did she try to blackmail our family?” Wolf asked, rather mordantly.

“No.” He hesitated for a second, then added, almost reluctantly, “She didn’t even cash the two million dollar check we gave her. That much I’ll hand her.”

Oh, really? That’s mighty gracious of you!

“How did you find out that she had abandoned her daughter?”

“Like I said, we had hired private detectives. It was twenty-four seven surveillance. One late night they saw her leave her building, with this box, and naturally they followed her. When they briefly inspected the box after Ms. Burns had left, they got back to me.” He paused for breath. “Of course I told them to keep an eye on this Sandford lady too.”

Sweet shit!
“So you knew Robin had been brought to the Home?”

Art nodded. “And I followed her growth through the years.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t I tell you? She was a Butcher child. Our blood.”

Wolf was flabbergasted. “If you were so concerned about her, why didn’t you bring her home? Why let her be raised at an orphanage?”

Art looked at Wolf as if he had lost his mind. “You wanted me to ruin Sage and Frennie’s life? … Moreover, I had told Sage that Ms. Burns had gone back to the States with her baby and had just disappeared then on.”

“And Father and Dad knew about all this all the time?”

“Not Dad. He knew nothing of the whole affair. We didn’t feel any need to tell him.”

Such nobility!

“It was only after Sage died that I could think of bringing Robin home. And I saw you as the instrument that could make that happen.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I knew how devoted you were to Philippa. Robin was so much like Philippa. A photocopy. After all, they shared the same father. By now enough years had passed and Ms. Burns hadn’t once visited the Home. So I thought it was safe.” He exhaled. “I arranged for Robin to be stood in the middle of the front row during that function, where you could notice her.”

“Sweet shit!”

“Well, it worked. You fell in love with her instantly. But then it was natural that you would.”

Sweet shit!
“You had Savannah watched all these years?”

“Not on a daily basis. Only now and then. Like I said, one can never be careful enough. There’s no knowing what such people…”

“Yah, I know,” Wolf cut in curtly.

Then another thought hit him and he stiffened.

“You were the one to send me the anonymous e-mail about Savannah?”

Art looked down. “It had to be done. Your connecting with her was a mistake. You had to know her truth.”

“And you sent the mails to the newspapers?”

“Only Ms. Witcher of the Tribune.” He looked to the side. “When it became apparent you wouldn’t give her up even after knowing her truth, added steps were required.”

Wolf felt a mad shower of anger raining down on his brain. For an instant, the steering wheel turned in his hands again.

“Careful!” Art cautioned.

Wolf shook his head. “So
nothing
was a coincidence in all this?”