The Patron Saint of Butterflies

I giggle. “Yeah. How about that?”


Agnes’s jaw tightens. “When were you at Mr. Schwab’s?”

I stop bouncing. “Oh, you know. Just a couple times with Winky when he had to go over and get stuff for the garden.”

She’s holding my gaze. “And he let you drive his tractor?”

I nod, looking back between her and the road.

“You know that’s forbidden,” she says. “Going off the grounds like that.”

I shrug. “Yeah, well I guess it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

She turns away when I say that, as if I have reminded her of something painful.

I try to change the subject, but she won’t look at me. And while I know we’re miles away from being on the same page, for some reason right at this moment, I’m desperate for her to talk to me. “Hey,” I whisper. “You want to know a secret?”

Agnes’s eyes flit to a spot away from the middle of the window, but she doesn’t turn her head.

“We’re on our way to see your aunt Lillian. Right now.”

Agnes’s head whips around on her neck like a spring. “What?”

I nod. “I don’t know all the details, but Nana Pete said she’s meeting us halfway. I guess so she can help out with the trip and all.” I pause. “She’s the one you’ve never met, right?” I talk quickly, hoping my words will overtake the shadow that is crossing Agnes’s face. But it’s not working. She glares at the back of Nana Pete’s head with hateful eyes and then sits back in the seat. Her lips are trembling. “Now, don’t get all worked up,” I say. “I know you’re not supposed to talk about her or anything, but—”

“We’re not supposed to have any thing to do with that woman.” Agnes says the words through clenched teeth. “My father forbids it.”

“But she’s your aunt! You guys are blood relatives! Aren’t you even the least bit curious about what she looks like? What she might have to—”

“No,” Agnes interrupts. “I’m not curious in the least. My father told me that she was full of sinful behavior. That’s why he gets upset whenever Nana Pete even mentions her name.”

“What sort of sinful behavior?”

“I don’t know,” Agnes says. “He didn’t tell me. But it was bad.”

“Why was it bad? Because your dad thinks it was bad?” Agnes nods. I roll my eyes. “For all you know, Agnes, Lillian’s ‘sinful behavior’ could have been using a curse word. Or eating a strawberry.”

“No, I’m sure it was a lot more serious than that,” she says. “Besides, what she did is not the point. The point is that Nana Pete is breaking a major rule by letting us see her—and she’s making us break the rule, too. Against our will, I might add. Dad’s going to be furious when he finds out.”

“How’s your dad gonna find out anything, Agnes?” I say. “He’s history, remember? We’re leaving him and—” I stop as Agnes’s eyes get wide in the rearview mirror. “I mean … he doesn’t have to find out … ,” I stammer, trying to repair the damage I have just created. But Agnes isn’t listening. She’s withdrawn completely inside herself, staring out the window again, chanting her prayers.

I drive for a long time after that without saying anything. I guess I’ve said more than enough. I glance back once or twice, just to see if Agnes is okay, but her forehead is pressed against the window, and she seems lost in thought. I feel so sad all of a sudden, so lonely, as if the darkness settling down around us is going to swallow me up. A little while later, as the sun sinks completely behind the low green hills and the light disappears, I start to get nervous. The road is harder to see in the dark and I don’t like it. I elbow Nana Pete.

“Huh!” She sits straight up, as if someone has just pinched her.

“It’s getting dark, Nana Pete. And we just passed a sign that says Raleigh is twenty miles away.”

Nana Pete looks out the side window and rubs her eyes. “Lord Almighty, Honey, you did it. I think you can do just about anything you put your mind to.” She points to a motel billboard up ahead. “That’s where we’ll stay tonight. It won’t be fancy, but all we need are a few comfortable beds. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and then hit the road tomorrow, nice and refreshed.”

She pulls out her phone and dials a number.

“Hi, darlin’,” she says into the mouthpiece. “Yes, we’re here.”





AGNES

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