The Patron Saint of Butterflies (16 page)

“Who wants to be normal?” I yell. “We’re Believers! We’re better than normal!”

“Better than normal is still abnormal, Agnes.” Honey’s voice is stoic. Her eyes glitter enticingly, reminding me of a story Dad told me once about Saint Thomas Aquinas. To see if they could tempt him from his chosen life of abstinence and virtue, some evil men sent a naked woman to his room. When St. Thomas opened the door and saw the woman standing there, he grabbed an iron poker out of the fireplace and chased her, screaming, down the hall.

“All men are tempted,” Dad had said after the story, “but only the saints refuse to succumb.” I glance around the room
quickly. The only thing resembling an iron poker is the thin metal pole that is connected to some kind of machine next to Benny. There’s no way I can pick that up.

“I’m not listening to you,” I say through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.” Honey opens her mouth, but I shake my head and point my finger at her. “Stay away from me, Honey. I mean it! I’m through with you and all your talk against Emmanuel.” I look over at Nana Pete. “And you, too, Nana Pete. You’re both heathens!”

Without warning, the nurse with the teddy bear jacket pops her head inside the door. “Everything okay in here?” A silver stethoscope is draped like a necklace along her chest. For a moment I think of screaming out that Nana Pete is trying to kidnap us. But something holds me back. For the life of me, I cannot get the words out.

Nana Pete smiles brightly. “Oh yes. Everything’s fine. Thank you.”

The nurse nods and then looks at Benny. “Careful not to wake him too soon. Rest is the best thing for him now.” I look back down at my little brother, envying his obliviousness. But I am fighting for him, too, I realize. Maybe for the first time in his life. And I won’t let him down again. The nurse shuts the door behind her and Nana Pete takes advantage of the sudden privacy to touch me on the shoulder.

I jerk away from her. “Don’t touch me!”

Nana Pete withdraws her hand but stays put. “The life you have been leading at Mount Blessing is all you know, Agnes, which is why you can’t possibly understand that what I am trying to do is for your own good.”

Blah, blah, blah,
I think, shoving two of my fingers in
my ears.
Yammer, yammer, yammer.
Nana Pete’s mouth stops moving.

I feel a surge of courage as I drop my hands from my ears. “You know what? You two can talk until you’re blue in the face. But I’m not going to Texas. And Benny’s not going to Texas, either. You can’t make us. That’s kidnapping.”

“I’m not going to kidnap you or force you to do anything against your will, Mouse. I mean it.” Nana Pete grabs my hand again and points her finger between the pink curtains. “Look out the window. You see that bus terminal across the street?” I glance at the array of blue and silver buses, lined like up like sleek fish in front of a low building. “If you want to go back to Mount Blessing, I’ll put you on a bus right now and pay your fare.”

“Okay,” I say instantly. “Then put me on a bus. With Benny. Now.”

Honey steps forward as Nana Pete drops my hand. “She said you. Just you, Agnes. Not Benny. Benny and I are leaving with Nana Pete.” Her words feel like needles going into the softest parts of my belly. There is a rushing sound in my ears. A bitter taste pools in my throat.

“You can’t take Benny.” My voice cracks like ice around the words. “He’s my brother. I won’t let you.”

“He’s my grandson, too,” Nana Pete says. The tone in her voice is the same one she uses with Dad whenever she has an argument with him and knows she’s right. “I have just as much of a responsibility to protect him as you do, Mouse.” The silence in the room is deafening, the
beep beep
of the machine next to Benny’s bed the only distraction.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I whisper.

“Because there isn’t any other way,” Nana Pete says. “There just isn’t.” The skin around her nose is getting red and blotchy. She stretches her arms out again. “Let me take you somewhere safe, Agnes. Let me take you to a place where no one will ever hurt you like this again.”

Honey is staring at me through the little space between Nana Pete’s arm and her waist. “Please,” she mouths. “Please, Agnes.”

For a moment I wonder if maybe I am in limbo, that place between heaven and hell where movement of any kind is impossible. Can’t go up, can’t go down. You just have to wait until someone prays hard enough to convince God that you really do deserve to go to heaven after all. Until then, you’re suspended, hanging out on a cloud maybe, or sitting on the moon, staring at possibility.

Emmanuel always warned us of the physical sensation that accompanies the act of sin, a stomachache perhaps, or a sour taste in the mouth. What, I wonder, does the feeling of being on fire mean?

“I’ll go for Benny,” I hear myself saying. “He’s going to need me when he wakes up and finds out what you’re doing to us. He won’t be strong enough to save himself.” I try to keep my voice steady as I raise my eyes to meet Nana Pete’s and Honey’s. “But let’s just make one thing perfectly clear right off the bat. You two can say whatever you want or take us wherever you think you should, but Benny and I will always be Believers.” I pause. “No matter what.”

HONEY

Benny wakes up just as the sun starts coming in through the window. By then Agnes has decided, against all odds, to come with us. I don’t care if she considers it some kind of martyr journey, or if she feels she has to protect Benny from Nana Pete’s and my evil clutches. Whatever it takes to get her on the road is fine with me. We can deal with the rest of it later. Benny’s eyes are a little swollen for some reason, and when he opens them they look like two little blueberries staring out from under a fat piecrust. Agnes rushes to his side and tries to get him talking, but his head just lolls heavily on the pillow. Nana Pete runs out of the room and returns with the nurse, who takes off her stethoscope and listens to Benny’s heart and checks his eyes and feels his forehead and wrist. After a moment she stands back and smiles.

“He’s doing wonderfully,” she says, looking at Agnes. “What a little trouper. I’ll call Dr. Pannetta and let him know he’s awake.”

As soon as the nurse leaves the room, Nana Pete springs into action, folding blankets, shoving small paper packages of gauze into her purse, emptying the side drawer of a dresser next to Benny’s bed, and folding Benny’s clothes. Agnes and I just stand there dumbly for a moment, watching her.

“Let’s go, girls,” she says in a low, conspiratorial voice. “We can’t waste any more time. We’ve got to leave now before they
make me sign any more paperwork and start asking real questions.”

But the nurses at the front desk freak out when Nana Pete comes out of Benny’s room, holding him in her arms.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one of them asks. She’s dressed in a white short-sleeved tunic and has braces on her teeth. The one with the teddy bear jacket is eating a blueberry muffin.

“Please,” Nana Pete says. “We have to go.”

“Go?” the nurse repeats. She laughs, as if Nana Pete has just told her a joke. “This little boy has just gotten out of surgery! You’re not
going
anywhere!”

“Actually,” Nana Pete says, taking a few more steps, “we are.”

Suddenly Dr. Pannetta appears with a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks different than the night before, dressed in navy blue pressed pants, a white button-down shirt, and a yellow tie with blue stripes. His shoes, brown and glossy, make a clicking sound when he walks, and his white hair, which is still damp, has been combed neatly.

“Does Benny have a sudden craving for a Big Mac?” he asks, striding toward us. “Or are you thinking of leaving the hospital with him?”

“She’s trying to leave!” the nurse with the braces yells frantically. “I’ve been trying to explain things to her, but she won’t listen!”

Agnes and I stay close to Nana Pete as she shifts Benny in her arms. She beckons Dr. Pannetta out of earshot, and moves close to the opposite wall. Agnes and I follow.

“I do appreciate all you’ve done, fixing my grandson’s hand. I’m sure you saved his life and I will never be able to tell
you what that means to me.” She takes a deep breath. “But please don’t prevent us from leaving now. I know the whole situation seems pretty bizarre, but we really do have to get moving.” She nods toward the nurses’ station on her left. “They have all my forwarding information. You can just send me the bill.”

Dr. Pannetta gives her a quick, tight smile. “This is a hospital, ma’am, not a jail. And we’re not wardens. You’re free to come and go at your discretion. I do have to warn you, however, that considering the rather—” He breaks off, upending his palms. “Well, to use your word—
bizarre
—circumstances in this case, we’re under a legal obligation to report the situation to Children’s Services.”

My stomach plummets when he says these words. I’m not sure what they are or what they do, but nothing about the words Children’s Services sounds good. We’ve got to get out of here now or we’ll all end up separated, placed in different homes. Maybe for good.

Nana Pete nods. “Yes, of course. I understand. And I appreciate your concern. But we really do have to go.”

Dr. Pannetta touches the edges of his beard with two fingers, as if deliberating this last statement, and then glances over at the nurses. The one with the braces nods. “Actually, I believe someone from Children’s Services has already been called,” he says, glancing down at the wide silver watch on his wrist. “They should be here in less than an hour, tops. Why don’t you wait until they come? They’ll ask you and the children some questions and when they’re done, I’ll sign you out.” He shrugs lightly. “Then you can leave. No big deal.”

I hold my breath, count to ten.

“I’m sorry,” Nana Pete says, turning away. “But we don’t have time to wait. We have to go now. Come on, girls.”

Dr. Pannetta reaches out and grabs her arm. “Just a minute, please!”

Nana Pete looks down at his hand. “I thought you said you weren’t a warden.”

“Yes.” Dr. Pannetta’s voice is tight, clipped, as he releases her arm again. He studies Nana Pete for a moment and then holds up his hand. “If you’ll just wait two minutes, I will give you Benny’s antibiotics.”

Nana Pete’s face turns white. “Oh. Well. Yes. Of course.”

We watch tentatively as Dr. Pannetta strides over to the nurses’ station, scribbles something inside a chart, and fills a small plastic bag with three or four bottles of pills. Handing the bag to Nana Pete, he takes Benny gently out of her arms and leads us down the hall.

“I had no choice but to sign you out AMA,” he says. “Against medical advice. That’s to cover our end of things. And I have to warn you it may not work to your advantage if anyone comes around later, asking questions.” He shifts Benny in his arms. “This little guy’s going to be just fine, as long as you make sure to give him his medicine regularly and bring him to someone
professional
to check his progress in a few days. A week at the most.”

“Thank you,” Nana Pete whispers. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

By now we are at the front entrance, a few feet away from the wall of sliding-glass doors. The Life Saver lady looks up from behind the information desk. She smiles at me and I smile back.

Dr. Pannetta hands Benny back to Nana Pete. “You take good care of him now,” he says. “I worked hard on those fingers.”

Nana Pete nods. “I promise I will.”

Dr. Pannetta looks over at Agnes and me. “And you make sure his hand doesn’t get stuck in any more doors, okay?” We nod. He walks toward the rubber mat in front of the glass doors. Agnes jumps back a little as they slide open.

“It’s okay, Ags,” I say, grabbing her hand. “They’re just automatic doors. They won’t hurt you.” But I have to pull her to get her all the way through. She keeps her hands up close to her mouth and walks on leaden feet. When we get outside, I glance back once. Dr. Pannetta is resting his arm on the front of the information desk, watching us. The Life Saver lady’s face is level with his elbow. I wave good-bye. The two of them raise their hands briefly in my direction, their faces clouded with bewilderment.

Agnes gets a little spooked out again when we reach the Queen Mary.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, I can’t. I can’t. We’re going to burn in hell for this. Please let’s go back. Please.”

“Get in, Mouse,” Nana Pete says. Her voice is stern and sharp. “Right now.”

Agnes gives her a blank stare and then gets in the back, biting the inside of her cheek. We get Benny arranged carefully on her lap and then Nana Pete peels out of the hospital parking lot. The next thing I know, the Queen Mary is flying along a road called Route 81 South, going so fast that the trees seem to blur. I don’t say anything, but I get the feeling that we’re not in Connecticut anymore.

No one talks for what seems like a very long time. I am, maybe for one of the first times in my life, at a complete loss for words. It feels sort of like we are riding along inside a soap bubble, a thin, transparent little thing that might pop at any second if the wind blows too hard or I breathe too loudly. And so I hunch down in the front seat of the car and just stay still. For a while, I stare out the window. To tell you the truth, I’m a little disappointed. Maybe it’s because we’re on a highway, or maybe the excitement of being out here for the first time is starting to wear off, but the outside world—at least from this vantage point—is pretty boring. All the commercials I’ve seen on TV have shown hot-air balloons soaring over wide green fields, shiny cars racing along winding roads, people running toward the ocean or sailing on huge boats. But all I can see, as far as I look, are trees and more trees. Mostly maple and oak, with the occasional scrubby pine. A field here and there breaks up the line of forestry, but even they are flat and full of dull, wilted-looking grass. I try to keep my eyes peeled for butterflies, but it’s nearly impossible with Nana Pete whizzing along like she is. We’ve passed five or six signs already that have indicated that the speed limit is sixty-five miles per hour, but she’s going at least eighty. At least.