The Butterfly’s Daughter (34 page)

“Do you want something to drink?” Maria asked. She seemed anxious to serve. “I have coffee, juice, wine, water.”

“No, thank you,” Luz replied, tugging her dress hem over her knees.

“If you're sure.” Maria walked to the red chair and lowered herself into it. Once seated, she began stroking Serena's back, settling her into her ample lap. If Serena were a cat, Luz thought, she'd be purring.

“So you drove here? All the way from Wisconsin?”

“Yes.”

“Such a long way! You know my mother, your
abuela,
drove even farther when you were born.” She tilted her head. “You are a lot like her in heart, too, I think.”

Luz plucked at the hem of her dress, inordinately pleased. “Thank you. Any comparison to Abuela is a compliment.”

“I can tell how much you love her.”

Luz squeezed her hands together, aware that in the space of a few minutes she'd have to deliver shattering news to her aunt about her mother, and it made her mouth so dry that she wished she'd asked for water. “Tía Maria?” she began, licking her lips. “There's something I have to tell you. I have some sad news about Abuela.”

Tía Maria's face fell and she looked suddenly stricken with
sadness. “
Ay,
you sweet girl! You don't have to tell me. I know my mother is dead. God rest her soul.” She brought her hand to her chest. “My heart is broken.”

Luz swallowed hard, confused. “But . . . how?” she stumbled. “How did you know? I only just arrived. I brought her ashes.”

“Her ashes? You brought them?” Maria brought her hands to her cheeks, seemingly overcome. She gazed at the floor by Luz's feet. “Where are they?”

“In the car. I'll get them.” Luz began to rise but Maria put her hand out to stop her.

“Wait, wait. Don't hurry off. We can get them later.” Maria seemed somewhat unsure as she looked back over her shoulder at the sliding patio doors. When Luz settled back on the sofa, tears began to fill Maria's eyes. “You're so kind to have brought them. I . . . I felt so sorry to have missed her funeral. I still can't believe it. Mami dead. It doesn't seem real. It seems like I just talked to her.”

Luz watched the tears flow down her aunt's face, but she couldn't put things to right in her mind. She scooted forward on the sofa. “But, Tía Maria, how did you find out? If I didn't tell you . . . who did?”

Maria's face stilled and her eyes widened. Then she exhaled and said in a serious tone, “This is where it gets complicated.” She turned her head once more to look back at the sliding glass doors.

Luz followed her gaze and thought she saw a shadow of movement outside on the patio. There was a person out there, she realized. More than one. She looked at her aunt with puzzlement.

Maria put Serena on the floor, patting her head, then reached over, stretching past Luz's knees to take hold of her hands. She gave them a quick squeeze. “My dear, we are all family here. We care about you and we are here for your support.”

Luz looked into her eyes, pulsing with meaning, and all she could think was,
we
?

Her aunt looked at her with a troubled gaze. She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. When none were forthcoming she sighed lustily and released Luz's hands.

“I think there is someone you should meet.”

Grabbing both arms of the chair, Maria slowly pulled herself to a standing position. She paused, took a breath, then said kindly, “Wait here,
querida
.”

Luz was baffled by the subterfuge. Clearly there was more family waiting to meet her on the patio. Her cousins, probably. Why the drama? Was there such tension between Abuela and her daughter that they thought Luz wouldn't want to meet them?

Maria walked around the coffee table, through the alcove dining room, and navigated the tight space around the wrought-iron dining table to the sliding glass doors. She dug through the folds of curtain fabric to find the drawstring, then began yanking on the cords. A few short, jerky pulls and the curtains opened. Light poured into the room, spreading over the red plush carpeting. Squinting, Luz could make out three figures standing behind the glass doors. Maria walked over and with another soft grunt, the reluctant door rattled open.

Luz's eyes focused on the first person to step into the room. A tall man . . . a baseball cap, short brown hair. She felt her heart freeze and she gasped in recognition.

“Sully!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. Her mouth hung open in surprise as she watched his progress toward her in a hesitant gait, his hands dug deep into his pockets. He wore new khaki pants and the brown plaid shirt she'd given him for his birthday. His usually unruly hair was freshly trimmed. He stepped forward
to hug her tight; then, releasing her, he stepped back awkwardly. His blue eyes were troubled and unsure. It frightened her.

“What are you doing here?” she sputtered.

“I came here to see you,” he said simply.

“But . . .” She was speechless with confusion. That didn't explain why he was here, at her aunt's house. Now. She had so many questions to ask but her attention was caught by the two other people who followed Sully into the room. One was a tall man of Native American descent. His skin looked like leather and his eyes were the rich brown color of the earth. He was clean-shaven and neatly dressed in a suede jacket. When he stepped into the room he removed his cowboy hat and held it in his hands. He was the only one not looking at her. His gaze was on the tall, slender woman at his side.

She was a wisp of a woman, so frail it looked like a gust of wind could blow her away, yet there was a tensile strength in her straight-backed carriage, like that of a dancer. Her soft, brown hair was long and fell in waves almost to the waist of her dowdy, blue floral dress. There was something familiar about her features. Luz thought she had to be some relative and she offered a small smile. The woman seemed surprised by it but her eyes lit up and she returned a shaky smile.

The tension in the room thickened as everyone stood in awkward stillness, staring at Luz with uneasy smiles on their faces. Luz felt her muscles bow up in the undercurrent. These two clearly were too old to be her cousins. Maybe an aunt and her husband? She looked to Tía Maria, expecting her to make introductions, but her aunt stayed in the background with her eyes glued to the other woman in the room.

The tall man put his hand on the woman's shoulder and
squeezed it. The woman startled slightly and looked back at him. Then she nodded and, with her gaze on Luz, walked a few steps toward her. Instinctively, Luz took a step back. The woman stopped advancing. Her eyes were filled with apprehension as her gaze swept over Luz's face, as though memorizing each detail. She seemed to tremble with the effort.

Meanwhile Maria, unable to stand the tension a moment longer, rushed to the other woman's side. “She looks like Mami, doesn't she?”

The woman's smile was bittersweet and she nodded her head.

Luz's attention sharpened on the word
Mami
. “You knew my grandmother?” she asked her.

“Very well,” she replied. Her voice was calm and easy on the ear. “And you, of course, are Luz.”

“Yes.”

“
¿Me conoces?
Do you know who I am?”

The voice, the expression . . . Luz sensed she knew the answer, but she couldn't quite grasp it. She shook her head tentatively. “No.”

Disappointment flickered in the woman's eyes, replaced as quickly with understanding. “Luz,” she began, then hesitated. “Luz, I'm your mother.”

Luz heard the words but they didn't make sense. “What?”

“It's true,” Tía Maria interjected. “Honey, this is Mariposa. Your mother.”

Luz shook her head. “No,” she blurted. “No, that's not possible. My mother is dead.”

“No, I'm not dead,” the woman said. “I'm here.”

Luz could only shake her head in denial. She felt like her head was spinning. The woman reached out to her but Luz recoiled,
stepping back. “What's going on here?” she cried accusingly. “Why are you saying that?” Her gaze swept from this woman, to her aunt, and finally to Sully. “Why are you doing this? Abuela told me my mother was dead!”

Everyone started speaking then, giving explanations that sounded to her ears like a garble of noise swirling around her.
Mariposa, mother, Luz, true
. . . Luz put her hands to her ears and closed her eyes. Everyone began pressing closer. Hands were touching her.

“Stop!” she shouted, squeezing her eyes tight. Immediately the room fell silent. Luz opened her eyes and saw everyone looking at her with expectant expressions. It was all too much. She turned on her heel and ran to the front door. She had to get away, to get some fresh air. She fumbled with the handle, but she couldn't get the door to open. She pounded the wood and cried, “Let me out of here!”

Sully ran to her side. “Give us a minute,” he ordered everyone, putting his arm out to ward them off. “I've got this.”

Sully turned the handle and opened the door. Luz rushed out, escaping the madness, gulping huge mouthfuls of air as she ran to the curb. She ran to El Toro, where she could hide and feel safe. She yanked the door but it was locked. Her purse was in the house. Defeated, she wrapped her arms tight around herself and bent over, ravaged by the fulcrum of shock and pain that raged inside of her.

Then Sully was there. His arms were around her, familiar and strong, pressing her close against his chest. She'd forgotten how safe she felt in his arms and clung to him. He didn't talk. He didn't need to. He held on to her, an anchor while she gasped for air, adrift. She didn't know how long they stood there, but in time she
quieted enough to notice that his hands were stroking her hair. She heard his heart beating steadily in his chest.

Her lips moved against his shirt. “Sully?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“What's going on? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, man, Luz.” He sighed. “Where do I begin? It's been a crazy couple of days. But first, how are you? That's what matters most.”

She gave a short laugh. “I don't know.”

“Okay. Fair answer.” He paused, then began again. “A couple of days ago I was in your house doing the stuff you asked me to do when your phone rang. At first I thought it was you and listened in. Then I heard this woman talking on the answering machine, saying ‘Mami.' It wasn't long before I figured out she didn't know that Abuela died. I thought she was your aunt, so I grabbed the phone, right? But she'd already hung up. So I got her number from the phone ID and called her right back.

“It wasn't your aunt. But when she said she was your mother it didn't make any sense. You told me your mother was dead. That's when I knew something was out of whack. All I could think of was you driving out here and hell, Luz. I didn't want you walking blind into all this. All alone. But I couldn't reach you. So I did the only thing I could think of. I got on a plane and came down here.”

“To be with me.”

“I told you. I'd be here if you needed me. Wherever you were.”

She paused, letting that sink in and feeling the strength of his love for her warming the chill in her heart.

“So,” she said, then swallowed. She couldn't push the words out. “So, that woman is my mother?”

“Looks like it.”

She brought her fist to her mouth. How could her mother be alive? Her mind wouldn't accept it. Abuela had told her she was dead. All these years . . . But even as she denied it, a small voice cried from deep within, trembling with hope and wonder: Could it be possible? Joy at the possibility, fear that it could be true, swirled inside of her, making her feel dizzy.

She leaned back to look into Sully's face. He returned her gaze, his blue eyes steady and sure. He had her in his arms again and was not letting her go. Again she rested her head on his chest.

“My mother is alive,” she said more calmly. Saying the words aloud, hearing them, helped her accept the truth.

“Yes.”

“But, Sully, where has she been all these years?”

“I think that's something you should ask her.”

Luz shook her head, feeling a panic rise up in her chest at confronting the woman. “No. I don't want to talk to her. I'm not ready yet. I don't know what to say!”

He patted her shoulder consolingly. “I can understand that,” he said. “But if it's any consolation, I think she's more afraid than you are. Luz, think. You've always talked about how much you missed your mother. How you wanted to know more about her.”

“I thought she was dead.”

“But she's not! She's alive. All you ever dreamed about is standing in that room.”

Luz turned her head to look across the scrubby, weed-strewn yard to the house. The distance seemed too far.

“I'll come with you,” he said, cajoling. “You won't be alone.”

She hesitated, feeling a stubborn anger that wanted to dig in, to turn her back on the woman who had turned her back on her.

“Just for a little while.”

“Maybe just for a little while,” she said reluctantly. “I have to get Serena.”

“You can leave whenever you want. Just give me the word and we're outta there.” He released her and took a step back. He held her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Are you ready?”

She nodded and straightened, smoothing out her hair. Sully wrapped an arm around her and they began walking toward the house, so close that they were bumping hips. When they reached the front door her hand paused on the door handle and she looked up at Sully.

“It was
you
who told them that Abuela died.”

“Yeah. It was hard, but I did it for you.”

All conversation ceased when Luz walked back into the room. She felt Sully's strength beside her even as he let his hand slide from her shoulder so she could stand alone. Tía Maria sat in the great red chair, stroking Serena, who was perched on the cushion of her belly, her nose delicately resting between her paws in repose. She didn't jump up when Luz walked in, but merely raised her gaze and watched.