The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (63 page)

Sudden anger flooded Wolf’s chest. He rose to his feet, excused himself and left.

Out in the garden, he walked around randomly. Why was this man still scuppering him? What was he up to now? Hadn’t he done enough already? Hadn’t he, Wolf, come back to him tail between legs? What more did Grant Butcher want from him now? Why didn’t he allow him some peace for a change?”

He missed dinner that night. He had no appetite whatsoever.

When at last he returned to the house, still depressed, it was almost twelve-thirty am. He paused outside his room. Then he slowly turned his head right. A dim sound of music was floating over to him from the bedroom next to his. He was surprised. It had been Sage’s room once. Now it lay idle and was never used. Curiosity made him walk over. He pressed an ear to the wood and listened. He put a hand on the knob, hesitated, but then gently turned it. The door was locked from the inside.

The music stopped. Wolf waited for ten seconds more, then gingerly knocked. There was no response. He knocked louder this time. He heard soft footsteps approach the door. Then the door was answered.

At first, he couldn’t quite see in the semi-dark.

“What’re you doing here?” a familiar feminine whisper said, startling him.

What’re YOU doing here?!
he heard himself exclaim silently.

“
WHAT
are you doing here, Wolf?” she repeated in a whisper.

“What are
you
doing here, Roch?” he said. “Why aren’t you in your room?”

She pulled him into the room, quickly shut the door, then put on a light.

“You and Art had a fight?” he asked.

She gulped once.

He looked around the room. His eyes narrowed.

“You’ve been living here for a while now, haven’t you?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

He caught her arm. “What’s going on, Roch?”

But she couldn’t speak.

“Roch, I have the right to know!”

“We’re separated.”

Wolf found his hair stand up. “Separated? … What? … how…when?” he blurted.

She didn’t want to speak about it.

But he wouldn’t relent.

“The day after you left home,” she said reluctantly.

“Sweet shit!” His jaw hung as he tried to digest the shock. “It was me, wasn’t it? I was the cause.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” she said quietly. “We had our differences, too many of them, for a while now. Finally we simply snapped.”

He could only stare at her, stunned. She was studying the opposite wall.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before? You didn’t say a word in all this time…not one word!”

“I didn’t want to load you with it. You had your own problems.”

“How can you fucking say that?! After all that you’ve done for me, after all the time you’ve given me, you say this?”

“Shhh, don’t shout, you’ll wake people up!” she snapped. “And for god’s sake, Wolf, stop saying that F word. It’s not done in our family. You are otherwise such a gentleman, a true Butcher, but you’ve been using that obnoxious word too often of late. You never did that before. It sounds hideous coming from your mouth.”

“You know the stress I’m going through. I’m human too, a Butcher or no Butcher.”

“That’s a very weak and cowardly excuse and you know that. So STOP IT!”

“Okay, let’s not fucking digress. Why haven’t Dad and Estelle done something about your situation? What have they been doing? Just watching the fucking show?”

“Will you keep your voice down, please?!”

“No, I won’t! … Look, Roch, it’s not too late. I’m going to talk to that big brother of mine and knock some sense in the asshole. He can’t treat you this way. He’ll…” He turned around.

“Wolf, stop! There’s nothing you can do. It’s
me
that wants out.”

“What! What are you saying?”

“I don’t have feelings for him anymore, Wolf. There’s no point pretending any longer.”

“You can’t be serious?” he said, his incredulity ringing in his voice.

“Don’t I look serious?”

He regarded her. “Shit, so much seems to have happened since I left. It’s all turned fucking upside…” He broke off. He needed to compose himself.

“It’s been happening for a while now, Wolf. Only no one knew.” There was an undertone of bitterness in her voice.

He stared at her in disbelief. “So why are you still at Butcher Garden?”

“Uncle Grant wanted me to stay. He was sure you would return one day. But till you came back he wanted me here.” She paused for a second. “By tomorrow evening, I shall be gone.”

“Gone? Where’ll you go?”

“I have an apartment on Crawford Street,” she said.

“That’s ridiculous! You can’t leave…I
won’t
let you leave.”

“I must, Wolf. I no longer belong here. This house belongs to Art.”

“Oh, no, it belongs to all of us. To Dad, to Estelle, to me
and
to you. Not just Art.”

“That’s not what the ownership papers say.”

“What do you mean?”

“This house was initially in the name of the two brothers—Eric and Grant. After the accident, Uncle Grant, engulfed in grief, transferred his share to Art, saying he wanted as few material possessions in his name as possible. Uncle Eric’s Will had already bequeathed the other half of the property to Art as well. Art is the full owner of this residence.”

Wolf felt his skin bristle.
No!

“It’s true,” Rochelle said. “Shows how close Uncle Eric was to Art. More than his own flesh-and-blood sons. But it is natural—Art was the one who pitched in with Uncle Eric when Sage cast off to join Uncle Grant.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Wolf said. “Dad still morally owns the property. If he wants you to stay on, Art would never dispute that.”

She sighed tiredly. “Oh Lord, how do I explain this?” She looked away for a second, her brow creased. Then she turned back to Wolf. “The truth is it isn’t Art who wants me to leave. It isn’t Art who wants us separated. It isn’t Art who wants a divorce. It is me, Wolf.”

Wolf had no words.

“I need to break free,” she added. “I’ve been too unhappy, for too long, and I need to breathe once again. I need to reclaim my freedom, to have a shot at some happiness. And this I can do only if I learn to walk on my own feet. I need to go, Wolf, I really need to.”

He was dazed. What was she saying? That all these years living in this big house, with this family, she had been nothing but miserable? That she had felt fettered in some way? That she had found it difficult even to breathe? Why hadn’t she said anything to anyone before? Why had she put on a constantly smiling face and borne it all so quietly without even letting a whiff out?

She seemed to read his thoughts. “Do not get me wrong, Wolf. Your family has been unbelievably good to me. Uncle Grant and Estelle have given me the love of a dad and a mom, no less. And before that, it was Uncle Eric and Paula. But finally, one remains closest to one’s husband. It was here where it all failed.” She looked at him gravely. “I need to inhale again, Wolf. I need to start life anew. I need to find happiness. I owe it to myself.” He could see the tears running through her heart.

Wolf’s face was pained. There was a long silence.

Suddenly a thought popped into his mind.

“Tell me one thing,” he said. “That injury to your ribs…you didn’t really bang into a wall, did you?”

She looked at him but said nothing.

“Rochelle?”

“Forget it, will you? It’s in the past.”

He clasped her shoulders. “The truth, Roch. Now!”

She inhaled, shut her eyes for a second. “Art and I had a tiff.”

“Why did you have a tiff? You were separated.”

“
I
was separated. But he is not ready to accept that. He is not ready to let me leave and divorce him. He is a fundamentalist Catholic, Wolf, and it goes against the basic tenants of his faith to give me a divorce…as he sees it. So he doesn’t want to let me go. I’ll always remain his property. He even said he’d rather die, or see me dead, than allow a divorce or let me go my own way.”

Wolf’s throat tightened. “He hit you, didn’t he? And he came here to your private room and did that? How dare he, the motherfuc…!”

“Drop it. It’s not going to…”

“The bastard!” Wolf hissed, his face suddenly ablaze with fury. He spun around. “The fucking bastard…I’ll kill him…”

But she lunged and grabbed him. He threw her hands away, but she wound her arms around his waist and somehow wrestled him to the floor with all her frenzied strength.

“WOLF! Wolf, please!”

He tried to get away, but some way she kept him down on the ground.

“Wolf, for my sake! Please don’t do it! I’ll be the loser if you open this chapter again!” she pleaded. “I’m trying my darnest best to put my past behind me and you’re only dragging me back into the morass. Let go, Wolf, I beg you! If you really appreciate what I’ve done for you, you’ll stop now.”

That last bit clinched it. He stopped struggling.

He turned his head and stared at her…and she looked back, her eyes suddenly tired. Slowly he rose to his feet again. She followed him up, panting, disheveled. It was as if two wrestlers were calling it quits now that the bell had sounded.

He regarded her again, shaking his head unpleasantly. There was a bitter taste in his mouth—he felt deeply wounded. For the first time in his life, he was ashamed of being a Butcher.

So disturbed was he that it didn’t occur to him that if Rochelle had indeed separated from Art and wasn’t really on talking terms with him, how was she, back then, feeding him with the classified information about the plans of the five trustees to get Robin adopted—information that had helped him thwart his little girl’s adoption by various people? Surely, it wasn’t coming from Art as Rochelle had claimed. Or was there something more to their separation than what he was being told?

.

T
he permanent transfer of Robin to Butcher Garden was fixed for ten am the following Monday, June 2nd. The hearing preceding the finalization of her shifting would be a mere formality. Estelle had pledged to be the full-time female caretaker of the girl.

Wolf prevailed on Rochelle to stay on until he brought Robin home. In turn, she elicited a solemn promise that he would not only pretend he knew nothing of the Art-Rochelle situation, but would remain warm toward Art as usual. The last part was almost impossible for Wolf, but if he wanted Rochelle in the house, at least for a couple of days more, he had no choice. He would have to feign his face off…bring all his actor’s skills to the fore.

Maddy called late on Sunday evening (eleven-twenty pm), the eve of the adoption.

“Hey, stranger,” she said. “Back home and he completely forgets his old friends. No use of me anymore, ah?”

“Don’t be a prick!” he mimicked. “I must’ve called you a hundred times. But you never returned one call.
You
don’t care anymore…that’s obvious.”

“Only twice, brother,” she corrected him. “I’ve some news for you. Read tomorrow’s Tribune. Grab the first copy. It’s sensational.”

He tensed. “What now? You screwing me again?”

She sighed. “I wish! But alas, nothing so marvelous. Anyways, goodnight and sleep well. And probably see you tomorrow.” And she cut the line before he could say anything more.

***

The New Halcyon Tribune Exclusive:

SAVANNAH BURNS’ DNA MATCHES ROBIN’S.

After Initial Amnesia, Accepts Lost Daughter.

To File For Custody.

.

H
er voice on the phone was barely audible.

“I remember now, Wolf,” Savannah said. “I’m very sorry.”

The muscles jutted out on either side of Wolf’s jaws. Emotions gurgled deep in his throat but no words came out. Finally, he snapped the connection, slapped the newspaper away and went to the washroom.

Half an hour later, he called Maddy.

“What fucking games are you two bitches up to? It’s not going to fucking work, do you understand!” he yelled. “Wow, for a fucking story you even ditched me and hooked up with that woman. What did she offer you—a lay? Well, she did say the truth the other day—you’re not to be fucking trusted. What a fucking ride you took me on!” Utter rage shivered in his voice. “Tell that pathetic woman never to call me ever again. Or I’ll file a police plaint of harassment. And I don’t want to see your fucking face or hear from you ever, understand?” And he severed the line.

But his cell rang again immediately.

“Didn’t I fucking tell you…” Wolf shouted.

“Now listen, you bastard!” Maddy hissed. “Speak to Rochelle. She’ll tell you all about it.”