The Patron Saint of Butterflies (12 page)

I shake my head miserably and slide it over in her direction.

“Man,” she says, snatching it before I can blink, “I wonder what they’re talking about in there.”

“Who?”

“Nana Pete and Emmanuel.” A vein at the corner of her eye pulses as she talks. “God,” she says. “I can’t stand it.”

I glance at Amanda, who is sitting across from us, but she is talking to her little sister, oblivious to our conversation. Christine is still busy at the other end of the table, pouring juice into more cups. Honey crams the rest of the toast into her mouth and looks around the table wildly, as if another piece might magically appear. “They could be talking about anything, you know?”

“What are you so nervous about?” I ask.

Honey looks at me and then drops her eyes. “Me? Nothing. I’m not nervous. I was just wondering, is all.”

“She was arguing about it with my dad last night,” I say, against my better judgment. Honey loves to hear stories about Nana Pete getting into it with my dad, especially when Emmanuel is concerned. I hate that. I always feel like I have to take sides and no matter whose I pick, I always lose.

“About going to breakfast?”

“Yeah. She didn’t want to go for some reason.”

Honey grins at me. “That’s ’cause she wants to keep her food down.”

Christine raps the end of the table with her knuckles. “Time to go down to the East House,” she says quietly. “Everyone please get in single file behind the Great Door.”

I grab Benny’s hand and lead him over to the line. His pocket is still wiggling.

“Get in the back of the line with me,” I whisper. “And as soon as we get out of the Great House, you are letting that frog go.”

“No!” Benny protests. “It’s for Andrew! He told me to bring it up this morning, but I haven’t seen him yet. He’s gonna give me fifty cents. I’m splitting it with Honey.”

“You’re letting it go, Benny,” I say, looking straight ahead. “Don’t argue with me.”

Benny’s shoulders slump as the line begins to move. I pull him along as everyone heads out the door, but he hangs back, dragging his feet, and after a minute I let go.

“Fine, be a pain,” I hiss into his ear. “But when you get called into the Regulation Room, don’t expect me to go in there with you.”

At the mention of the Regulation Room, my little
brother’s face pales. He whimpers and runs to catch up with me, but I am already out the door.

“Agnes!” he pleads. I turn slightly when I hear him shout, just in time to see the frog, in one last effort at freedom, leap from his pocket back inside the Great House. Halfway between the closing door, Benny turns and as he does, the door slams shut. There is a split-second pause before a noise unlike anything I have ever heard before comes from the other side. It is a wild, animalistic sound, a howling so pure in its pain that it makes the inside of my mouth turn cold. I stand rooted to the spot, but Honey turns and throws herself against the door. It creaks open again slowly.

“Oh my God,” she wails. Just under her slumped form, I can see the outline of Benny lying on the floor. There is a blur of movement as Christine pushes past me. She sinks to her knees next to Honey and then picks up my little brother in her arms.

“Someone help!” she screams, running into the foyer of the Great House. “Help us, please!” My legs begin to move with a mind of their own, and I follow, struggling to keep Benny in sight.

Claudia meets us halfway inside the foyer, her blue robe flapping behind her like a pair of enormous wings. “What is it? What happened?”

“His hand!” Christine yells. “It got caught in the door!”

I avert my gaze from the top of Benny’s head down to his hand, which is dangling like a gutted fish over Christine’s arms.

“Oh, Jesus,” Claudia says, bending over Benny, who
has begun to moan desperately. “The fingers are almost completely severed. We’re going to have to call an ambulance.”

Honey has backed off to the side, but I squirm and claw my way between Claudia and Christine. “Benny! Are you all right? Let me see! Let me
see
!” There is a bright flash of blood as Christine transfers Benny into Claudia’s arms, but they are both moving so fast I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Is he hurt somewhere else? “Benny!” I scream.

Claudia is moving toward the middle of the room, yelling at Mr. Murphy, who is still eating breakfast, to clear off a table. By now Benny has begun to scream. Claudia lays him down and then starts barking orders.

“I need to make a tourniquet, Samuel. Go to the kitchen and get me a rag or dish towel, anything! Just so I can stop the blood from flowing!” Mr. Murphy turns and runs.

Claudia looks over at Mrs. Winspear, who is in charge of answering the communal phone. “Martha! Call 911! Tell them we need an ambulance right away!”

Mrs. Winspear’s small eyes open wide inside her doughy face and her two chins tremble. She starts dialing the phone. Mr. Murphy reappears, holding a fistful of rubber bands, wet washcloths, and a beat-up-looking roll of gauze. I grab on to the back of Claudia’s shirt as she snatches a rag. She doesn’t seem to notice. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Honey running down the length of the Great House, toward Emmanuel’s room. In the background, Mrs. Winspear is yelling into the telephone.

“Yes, that’s right, Mount Blessing! Right off of Sanctity Road. Yes, yes, the commune! There’s been a terrible accident!
Please hurry!” Her voice, shrill as glass, cuts through me. Benny shrieks and kicks on the table, flailing his arms and legs wildly.

“Hold him down!” Claudia yells.

Christine and Mr. Murphy each take hold of Benny as Claudia begins tearing the washcloth into strips. Christine is crying—great, gulping sounds, like a child who has had a bad dream. Benny’s eyes are rolling around in their sockets and strange, grunting sounds are coming out of his mouth. I squeeze in next to Claudia and move in close to his face. Beads of sweat glisten above his pale eyebrows.

“Benny,” I whisper. “Benny, it’s Ags. I’m here, Benny. It’s gonna be okay. They called the ambulance, sweetie, and you’re gonna be all right. Don’t worry, Benny. I’m here.” He lurches, screaming again, as Claudia does something to his injured hand.

“It’s all right, Benny,” Claudia says firmly, her eyes wide with concentration. “I need you to be brave. Two of your fingers are hurt really bad and I need to wrap them up so that you don’t keep losing blood.” She gives Mr. Murphy a curt nod. “Hold him down, Samuel. He’s not going to like this.”

I sob along with Benny as he wails and arches his back under Claudia’s tight, rapid movements. Christine’s cries get louder. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mom, Dad, and Nana Pete rush forward, trying to get through the throngs of other Believers who have gathered around the table.

“Isaac!” Christine takes a step back, nearly knocking me over. “Oh, Isaac, I’m sorry! It was an accident! I didn’t even see him go back in!” Dad looks confused for a moment as he stares down at Benny.

“It’s his hand?” Nana Pete shouts, trying to squeeze past Mr. Murphy. “Is that where he’s hurt?”

Suddenly the crowd begins to shift and separate. People move back and then fall silent as Emmanuel and Veronica walk through their midst. Claudia, who is still working like crazy, doesn’t notice as Emmanuel stands a few inches from my little brother, surveying the damage, but Dad looks up instantly. His face pales.

“Stop what you are doing,” Emmanuel says. He is eerily calm.

Claudia looks up. “Emmanuel.” She sounds stunned.

Emmanuel nods in Mrs. Winspear’s direction. “Call the ambulance back, Martha, and tell them it was a false alarm.”

Now it’s Mrs. Winspear’s turn to look confused. She brings her fat hands up to the sides of her face and presses them against her cheeks, looking first at Claudia and then back at Emmanuel.

Veronica takes a step forward and purses her lips. “
Now
, Martha.” Mrs. Winspear turns and starts to redial the phone.

Claudia stands up. “What are you—”

“Bring him into my room,” Emmanuel says. His voice is grave, mysterious.

“Oh no,” Claudia says, shaking her head. “With all due respect, this child doesn’t have time right now for a prayer service. He should get to the hospital immediately before he loses any more blood.”

“There’s not going to be a prayer service,” Emmanuel says. He leans over, lifting Benny from the table. “I am going to heal him.”

The crowd gasps.

Claudia’s face turns pale. “
Heal
him? How?”

Emmanuel’s voice booms over the upturned sea of Believer faces. “‘For truly I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.’”

Claudia is aghast. “This child needs a
surgeon
! Faith can come later! There are bones in these fingers that are probably broken, tendons and nerves that must be reattached! There is nothing you can do here, Emmanuel! You have no medical training!”

But Emmanuel turns his back on Claudia’s pleas, still holding Benny, who is whimpering like a little puppy. His voice reverberates through the Great House as he walks through the stunned crowd. “And so I say to you, ‘Whoever does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.’”

“Please, let the hospital—,” Claudia begins.

But Veronica cuts her off with flashing eyes. “Hold your tongue! Do you realize who you are talking to?” Claudia steps back and presses her hand tightly against her lips. Nana Pete grabs Dad’s arm.

“Don’t be a fool, Leonard!” Her voice is breaking. “Don’t let him go! Benny might die if he doesn’t get the right medical care!”

I can tell by the momentary shift of panic in Dad’s eyes that he is considering Nana Pete’s words. But then he blinks and the look of panic disappears.

“The only fools in this world, Mother,” he says slowly, “are the ones who refuse to believe. That is why we are Believers.”
He takes Mom’s hand in his and begins to walk alongside Veronica toward Emmanuel’s room. “‘Blessed are the ones who have not seen and yet still believe,’” he says. Listening to him, the crowd now surges behind, individually murmuring their own verses of faith and belief.

“ ‘Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”’ “

“ ‘Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light.’ “

I stop as a familiar voice echoes in my ears. “‘He took up our infirmities and carried our diseases!’”

It’s mine.

HONEY

Nana Pete, Agnes, and I keep watch, sitting on one of the couches just outside Emmanuel’s door, but the hours tick by and no one emerges from Emmanuel’s room. There is no way to tell what is going on in there, since the three of us have been forbidden to enter. Even when I stand up and press my ear against the door, I can detect no sound at all from inside. All around us, the rest of the Believers buzz silently, cleaning and sweeping and washing the windows, as if nothing has happened. Mr. Murphy even goes back to finishing his breakfast. When the phone rings, Mrs. Winspear picks it up and blinks, saying the same thing she always does: “Hello and God bless you! How can I help you today?” as if a little six-year-old kid is not clinging to life just fifty feet away from her. These people make me want to mess someone up.

Nana Pete does not look at anyone or say anything as the morning light fades outside the windows. She just stares into the ashy mouth of the dead fireplace across the room with a vacant expression on her face. Every once in a while, she reaches into her purse, pulls out a pink handkerchief, and pats her upper lip. Agnes, who is sitting on the other side of her, rocks back and forth in her seat, reciting Bible verses about faith and ticking off the beads on her consecration beads. I feel like I’m going to start screaming. Instead, I get up and start walking toward the bathrooms.

I almost miss Benny’s glasses, which are lying in a heap
just inside the Great Door, forgotten amid all the excitement. Picking them up, I stare for a moment at a tiny drop of blood on the left frame. Fear grips me as I think of Claudia’s words: “He should get to the hospital before he loses any more blood!” How much blood has he lost? Is it too late? I wipe the glasses gently with the hem of my robe, fold the stems, and insert them back inside the robe’s wide sleeves. Then I go back and sit down on the couch next to Nana Pete and wait.

Finally, after four and a half hours, Mr. and Mrs. Little emerge from Emmanuel’s room. All the Believers in the room rush over, surrounding them like a horde of bees. Benny is in Mr. Little’s arms. His eyes are closed and his mouth is hanging open slightly. Nana Pete and Agnes and I have to struggle to get through the crowd.

“Is he dead?” Agnes cries. Mrs. Little’s face is a weird bluish color, as if all the blood has gone out of it. She reaches out and puts an arm around her daughter.

“Of course not, Agnes. He’s just sleeping.” She reaches around and lifts Benny’s bandaged hand gently. “And you should see his fingers.” Now she is addressing the crowd. “They’re as good as new. Emmanuel sewed them both back on, inch by inch. He’s going to be just fine. As good as new.”

“He
sewed
them back on?” Nana Pete says, but her voice is drowned out by the crowd.

“It’s a miracle!” someone says.

“He’s more than a healer,” says another, clearly awestruck. “He’s a miracle worker! We are so blessed!”

Dad nods, beaming, and then starts walking toward the
exit. “Let’s get back to work!” he says over his shoulder. “The excitement is over and we still have much to do.” The crowd begins to disperse accordingly.

Nana Pete presses her fingers against her lips and rushes up alongside Mr. Little, as Agnes falls into step next to her mother. “Leonard, did he really
sew
them back on? How is that possible? There’s no way he could have done it correctly!” I walk behind the two of them closely.

Mr. Little looks at his mother out of the corner of his eye. “We’re going down to the Field House to put Benny to bed, Mother. He’s probably going to sleep through the night, which will be incredibly convenient, since we still have a lot of work to do for the Ascension March.”