The Butterfly’s Daughter (38 page)

“Butterfly Girl!” he said. “See? I told you we'd meet up again. The more I do this the more I see what a small world it really is.”

Luz chuckled, elated to see him again. “As I recall, you were the one who had doubts.”

“Not really. But I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. So you're on your way.”

It was more a declaration than a question, but Luz nodded. “At last. I thought you'd be in Mexico by now.”

“Nope. I chased the butterflies to Texas and got lucky. Found an incredible roost not too far out of San Antonio. I was supposed to meet up with a colleague of mine here at the airport, but he got held up. So I'm going on south without him.”

His turn came up so he turned to focus on the business at hand. When he finished insuring his vehicle, he paused as Luz stepped up to the counter. “Good luck to you, Butterfly Girl. See you around.”

She was sorry to see him go. She had lots of questions she wanted to ask him about the trip but he was already out the door. She turned back to the attendant to complete her transaction. When she stepped out of the shop, she found Billy waiting for her.

He scratched the back of his neck in consternation. “You ever drive in Mexico before?”

“No.”

He frowned with chagrin. “That's what I figured. If you've got a
minute, I've got some maps and some recommendations of places to stay, stuff like that. You can't be too careful.”

“Great!” she said, relieved beyond words. This had turned out better than she'd hoped. Mariposa claimed she knew the way like the back of her hand, but Luz trusted Billy more. She looked at her watch. “Where are you parked?”

“In the lot around the corner.”

“Perfect. That's where I am. I'll walk you over.”

They walked around the corner to the parking lot to find Mariposa and Margaret leaning against El Toro, waiting. They straightened, surprised to see Luz with Billy at her side.

“This is Billy McCall. He's with the University of Kansas. He's headed to the sanctuaries to do research and he's going to give us a heads-up on what to expect. Billy, this is . . .” She looked at her mother and stumbled for the word to use. “Mariposa Avila,” she said, deciding further explanation was unnecessary.

Mariposa's smile was stiff and guarded. She didn't extend her hand.

“And this is Margaret Johnson. She's from Hidden Ponds. You might know her?”

Margaret smiled shyly and extended her hand.

Billy shook her hand and gave her his laconic smile. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

A shadow crossed Margaret's face as she stepped back.

After introductions, Billy turned his attention to El Toro. “This is your ride?” he asked with a hint of incredulousness. His hand traveled to his mustache as he tugged it in thought. “I've got to be honest. I'm a little unsure about you all driving in that old car. There's some pretty rough terrain.”

Margaret turned to glare at them with
I told you so
in her eyes.

“This car will make it just fine,” Mariposa said.

Billy cocked his head and looked at Mariposa speculatively. “You think so? Well, I hope so. But it still makes me uneasy to think of you traveling alone in that car, or any car for that matter. It's not safe if you break down. Tell you what. Maybe we should caravan, given that we're all going to the same general area. Once we get to Angangueo, I'll head off on my own.”

“Thanks, but we'll be fine,” Mariposa said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know these roads, I know the language, and I know these old Vochos.”

“Wait a minute,” Margaret said, trying to lighten the dark cloud Mariposa just cast over them. “I think that's a really good idea. I don't mean to be rude,” she said to Mariposa, “but I've driven in this car longer than you have and I've been in it when it broke down. I don't want to be alone out on some deserted Mexican highway if that happens again. So I say we take Billy up on his kind offer.” She smiled at Billy, then cast Luz a pleading glance.

Luz looked at her mother. It was obvious from her tone and stance that she didn't want to tag along with Billy. But it was Luz's car and her decision.

“Thanks, Billy. That sure would give me peace of mind. I have to admit I was a little nervous.” She patted the car's hood. “No offense, El Toro.”

“Well, okay then. Here's what we'll do. We'll get in line, pay our toll, and go over the bridge to the Mexican side. If you're lucky enough to get the coveted green light, we'll keep on going. If one of us gets the red light that means you have to pull over for inspection. If that happens, the other car will just pull over on the other side and wait. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Luz replied.

“My car's parked right over there,” he said, pointing to a battered white SUV a few cars away. “I'll pull out first and you can follow me.” He turned to go.

“Excuse me! Billy?” Margaret called out.

Billy stopped and swung his head around.

“I don't mean to be pushy, but since we're going to the same place, and since the person you were waiting for didn't show up, would you mind if I rode in your car? I wouldn't ask, but it's pretty crowded in that backseat.”

He scratched his mustache, amused. “Sure. Hop in.”

Luz followed Margaret as she went to the car to pull out her bag.

“What are you doing?” Luz hissed.

“I'm following the example of St. Stacie. I'm hitching my star to Billy.”

Luz felt an irrational tug of jealousy. “You don't even know him.”

“Actually, I do. I took a class from him at the university. He just doesn't remember me.” She looked over her shoulder and drew Luz a few steps farther from the others. “Seriously, Luz, I'm a third wheel. My being out of your car will give you and your mom a chance to talk privately. You need this time with her. And,” she added with a smirk, “the fact that it will be a whole lot more comfortable in his car than in that backseat is a bonus.”

Billy fired up his car engine and tapped his horn.

Margaret lifted her chin. “Be right there!” She hugged Luz tightly. “Hey, we're still traveling together, right? See you on the other side!”

Margaret trotted to the car with the eagerness of a child running toward a Christmas tree. Billy pushed open the passenger door. A blast of Mozart filled the air.

“
¡Vámonos!
” he called out.

They made it across the Pharr-Reynosa International Bridge without incident and only the usual delays. Billy led them through bustling border towns with dusty streets, elaborate plazas, and shop after shop burgeoning with tourist items. Street vendors approached their car at stoplights aggressively trying to sell trinkets “cheap, lady, very cheap!” Children peddled chicle gum. The towns emptied out into a long, deserted stretch of desert. Luz and Mariposa followed Billy's car in a deep silence, each lost in her private thoughts as they made their way through the hardscrabble terrain.

“How do you know Margaret?” Mariposa asked, breaking the long silence.

With that question, they began to talk. Luz began with Tía Maria's fateful phone call a month earlier and the sequence of events that unfolded that led to Luz's decision to bring Abuela's ashes to Mexico. She didn't leave anything out: the car trouble in Chicago, Ofelia and Angel, the baby being born in Kansas, picking up Margaret at Hidden Ponds, the chance meeting with Billy, and finding the scribbled phone number in Abuela's address book.

“All along, the one constant was that I felt Abuela's presence in the car with me,” Luz said softly.

“I do, too.”

“You do?”

“Without question. She's here with us.”

“After Abuela died,” Luz began in a soft voice, “I felt so alone. I didn't know how I'd go on. I prayed for her to give me some sign that she was still with me. The next morning, I discovered a monarch, just emerged, in her workroom. It was such a surprise! It
was so late in the season and I'd completely missed the chrysalis. But there she was. And what was so amazing was that the butterfly didn't fly off when I brought her to the garden. She stayed with me, almost like she wanted me to pay attention. I had this overwhelming conviction that Abuela had come to me in the form of this monarch. It was the sign I'd prayed for.”

Mariposa was silent.

“You probably think I'm silly.”

“I don't think you're silly at all,” Mariposa said. “Many, many people have told me similar stories—a butterfly appeared after the death of someone they loved. Or a butterfly sat on their shoulder when they were sad or depressed. Most moving to me was reading about the discovery of hundreds of drawings of butterflies carved into the walls of the children's barracks at the Majdanek concentration camp, probably with pebbles and their fingernails. Imagine those tender fingernails, carving dreams into their only canvas, a wall. For millennia, all around the world, there have been myths about butterflies. Personally, I whisper a message to the gods each time I release a butterfly. I don't think your story is the least bit silly. We have a special connection to them.”

Luz smiled but kept her eyes on the road. “Well, anyway, that's the one constant in this Canterbury Tale. I'm following the signs.”

“No one knows what signals the monarchs use to navigate their way. For you, it's Abuela.”

“And for you?” Luz asked, glancing at her mother.

Mariposa settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. “I'm following you.”

Mariposa took her turn at the wheel when the sky darkened. Luz let her head rest as the wheels hummed beneath them. She felt the rhythmic bump like a heartbeat.

She turned her head to look at the dark silhouette of the woman driving the car. Her hair was pulled back at the neck; her tan skin was untouched by makeup. On the left side of her face, a small, jagged scar traveled the length of her smile line. Who was she? Luz wondered. All her life she'd had an idealized version of her mother. The woman in the car beside her was a stranger. Luz wondered what her life would have been like if Mariposa had not left. What experiences would they have shared? Would they have been close, or would they have been like Maria and Abuela, loving each other but not getting along?

Mariposa turned to see Luz staring at her and smiled. “Are you tired?”

Luz blinked heavy lids. “Very.”

“I hope he turns off for a hotel soon,” Mariposa muttered, still not enamored with their guide. “Every fool knows it's suicidal to drive in Mexico at night. The stories I could tell you.”

Luz turned her gaze back to the road. She wondered about those stories. Of all Abuela's stories, the biggest whopper was the one about her mother.

The following day they started out early after breakfast at their modest hotel of
chilaquiles
—delicious strips of fried corn tortillas simmered in salsa and served with cheese, eggs, and beans. Clouds were rolling in but the sky was blue, and they'd planned on a full day of travel. Mariposa took the wheel as they plowed up and over the Sierra Madres. She was like a trail driver of the Old West, urging a tired and struggling El Toro, grinding
gears ruthlessly and using her tongue as a lash. As the incline steepened, the VW began to lose speed and the engine labored, groaning in a low octave.

“Come on, Toro. You bull! You can do it!” Luz shouted, rocking back and forth in her seat to help it along.

Mariposa laughed and joined in the chorus. “Go, go, go . . .” Luz knew that Billy wasn't laughing in his car, however. He kept pushing on far ahead, only to have to stop and wait for El Toro to catch up. If she were a betting woman, Luz would bet that Billy would rue the day he'd asked them to follow him.

The mountainous landscape was beautiful. They wound around verdant forests and overpasses with breathtaking views of the valley. Once things leveled out again, Luz took the wheel and they fell into an easy conversation.