The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (12 page)

He went back to the front.

Then returned to the back.

And he did it twice more.

Forty-five minutes had passed since they had set off on this caper.

Finally, he went over to the servant’s quarters.

But they had seen her only once and a while back.

He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Okay, Butterfly, I give up. You win, I lose. Come out now. It’s getting very late,” he called out.

No response. He went around the garden, calling out to her.

No play.

For the first time, he felt a little concerned. He walked to the main gate now and talked to the guards. But they hadn’t seen her either. So at least, she hadn’t left the property. Had she scaled the wall?
Unlikely.
Daring and capable as she was, Wolf couldn’t envisage her scaling a fifteen feet wall topped with broken glass and barbed wire.

For a brief while, he stood in the middle of the garden, his mind blank. And then it occurred to him.
But of course! The girl’s back to her ways.
She was cheating again—hiding somewhere in the big house. He should’ve known, dammit!
I’m going to whack her little bottom this time!
He started with the east wing.

“You have not returned her yet?” Grant demanded, when Wolf inquired of him. “You should adhere to the rules, Wolf! Do not put me in a difficult position, please.”

Wolf could say nothing. He checked the other rooms (Art hadn’t returned yet and Rochelle wasn’t in her bedroom), all the rooms—under tables, under chairs, behind doors, the lofts... There were a zillion hiding places in the big house. But finally certain she wasn’t in the east wing, he went to the other side.

He found Rochelle in the Great Room, fiddling with a cabinet.

“Ah, so that’s what it is,” he grinned. “
You
are hiding her, yah? Admit.”

“What are you yapping about?” she scowled, turning on him.

“Robin. The two of you have ganged up on me, haven’t you? But it’s time to quit. Dad’s getting hyper and...”

She cut him short. “Look, I don’t have the frigging time to play your stupid games. Understand?” And she walked out of the room in a huff, leaving Wolf staring at her back.

He recommenced his search. Finishing with the rooms on the west wing, he went up to the terrace. It was a long place, with profuse rose and cacti pots, among other things. She wasn’t here either. He came back down. Out on the front porch, Bruno came wagging his tail. Wolf gave him a little pat on the head.

“Hey, buddy, why don’t you go find Robin for me, eh?”

The big Alsatian immediately darted down the porch steps and headed westward, as if he knew exactly what was needed of him.

But ten minutes on, he announced failure. Dews of perspiration dotting his brow, Wolf quietly summoned the servants.

Fourteen men spread out and trampled the property, as quietly as they could, for Wolf didn’t want to rouse Dad now. What would he tell him—that she had just vanished...that he had allowed her to vanish? Though Art was the original instigator, it was finally on Grant’s word that they allowed Robin to come to Butcher Garden every weekend.

They searched, and searched, but the girl was nowhere, and finally the hunters returned to their pens.

Wolf sat on the top step of the front porch and held his head in his hands. His mind wasn’t functioning anymore. He sat for about five minutes before restlessness got him to his feet once more. He couldn’t afford idleness. Instinctively, he sought Rochelle again, like a fawn seeking mother doe.

Light filtered through from under her bedroom door and he rapped. He heard a grunt of annoyance, then Rochelle answered the door.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen Robin?” he inquired hopefully.

Her eyes flashed. “Didn’t you hear me the first time around?” she barked.

Wolf gawked at her. What was with
her
tonight? He had never seen her like this before. She was one of the gentlest persons he had ever known. This sudden other side of her shocked him. Slowly, he turned around and left, his shoulders drooping.

Wolf knew he had to finally sound Dad. It made him feel sick. For a while, he hung back in the desolate lobby, his heart palpitating, scared and helpless and lost. But the need to sit down urgently got him shuffling back to his room. He needed to collect himself first.

Where in hell could she have gone? How can she disappear into thin air, as if by magic?
It was so bizarre...just didn’t make sense. He halted at the door of his room and rested his forehead on the wood.
What am I going to tell Dad?
He could feel his scalp prickling.

“Do not put me in a difficult position, Wolf, please,” he heard Dad’s voice again. Then he also heard the unsaid words, “Perhaps I should not have listened to your brother in the first place. However innocuous the matter may be, it is not good to bend rules like this. Honestly, I was never for it. But Art was so insistent. Perhaps, Robin should not visit us again before she is legally adopted by you.” And for the first time ever, Wolf was scared of Dad. Truly scared.

At length, he pushed open the door to his bedroom and stepped in.

She was there, on the bed, reading Archie.

When she saw him, she flung the comic aside and dove for him.

“What kept you so long, Daddy? I’ve been waiting here for you for so long!” she protested, grabbing his arm.

Wolf stared at her stupidly.

Then Robin let go of his arm and pointed in the direction of the seating to Wolf’s left.

“See what I got for you,” she said, beaming.

Wolf screwed his head around...and he stopped breathing.

FROM
behind the trunk of a coconut palm, on the west fringe of the garden, she had watched Daddy emerge from the house and she had scurried to the back garden. Hiding behind one of the swimming pool change rooms, she had peeked out. Bruno had come wagging his hinds, demanding to be loved.

“Shhh, Bruny, not now...later, yes? ... Go!” She pushed him gently away with her hip. The big Alsatian’s eyes turned morose and he loped away, head down, tail limp, a tragic figure. Robin felt bad for him, but she would make it up to him later.

Many minutes later, Daddy appeared and she immediately darted out of her hiding. Crouching low and keeping to the shadows, she circled the east wing of the bungalow and was back to the front garden.

And she kept dodging Daddy, moving around the house over and over, sleek as a kitten, silent as the night, just about remaining elusive. She desperately wanted to stay back here with Daddy, not go back to the Home, and she would do all in her power to see to that. At least, she would prolong her leaving as much as she could.

She heard him call out to her, and keep calling, but of course she was having none of it. Finally, she saw him go over to the main gate. He talked to the big men there, returned, and stood in the middle of the garden. Robin watched him from behind a rather tallish rose bush on the west side.
Daddy is so worried now. Poor Daddy,
she thought. She truly felt for him. She wanted to run over and hug him from behind, but today she resisted. She had her own pressing needs. Then she saw Daddy trundle off into the house. Robin now came out of her hiding, soundlessly crossed the garden and concealed herself behind a Christmas tree across from the front porch. From here, she could keep tabs.

A shuffle behind her made her look back sharply. A woman was quietly coming up the walkway. Their eyes met and both Robin and the woman froze abruptly.

And then, from some fifteen feet apart, they began regarding each other...with such rapt engrossment that Time came to a standstill.

The woman’s eyes had narrowed to pinpoints and she was staring at Robin with orbs that were like drills—they pierced into the girl as if she was trying to reach into her very essence. Robin knew the woman wasn’t really conscious of this—it was just a natural reaction on her part. But why she should exhibit such a deep interest in her, a complete stranger, beat Robin.

What she did realize, however, was that she herself was staring at the woman with the same single-minded absorption, her eyes round and wide. And that a weird flutter had begun in her belly. Again, it completely beat her why she should feel this way, for Robin was positive she had never laid eyes on her before.

Or perhaps I do know her from somewhere!
Robin thought wickedly.
Perhaps she’s my mom and I her daughter...perhaps we were so in some other birth!

How long they stood there, immersed in each other, helplessly lost in mutual fascination, none can tell, but it was the older woman who recovered first. She seemed to give a tremble, as if reluctantly snapping herself out of it. Her narrowed eyes now relaxed.

“Hello,” she said in a low voice.

Robin gave an involuntary quiver herself as she shook herself out of her own spell.

“Hi,” she returned, her voice equally small, her face grim.

Rationality restored, Robin now found herself studying the woman’s features.

She liked the woman’s hair immediately. It was brown and waist-length and shimmered in the light of the overhead bulb. She thought of her own hair. Like the other girls of the Home, it had been cut short.
Easier to manage,
they had said. But now, after seeing this woman, she wanted to grow it like hers. She liked the woman’s eyes too—they were blue, just like hers, and gleamed in the light. Daddy’s eyes were green, and she liked that too. And she liked the woman’s face as well. It was longish, but not too long, with a thin straight nose. She liked her neck—long and strong, yet so feminine, like some fine unmarked glass. And finally, Robin decided she liked the woman after all.

And then the woman smiled at her. And Robin smiled back. Two pairs of cheeks dimpled at each other.

“Is Mr. Wolf Butcher home?” the woman inquired.

A questioning look came to Robin’s eyes.

“Oh...my name is Savannah Burns and I’m a friend of his,” she said, still smiling. “And you’d be?”

“I’m Robin Butcher and I’m also a friend of Mr. Wolf Butcher,” she said, automatically thrusting her chest out and standing to her full height.

And then Robin saw the woman’s gaze fall on her right arm. But it lingered there only a second and was hastily reverted back to her face, and Robin smiled somewhat wryly to herself.

“So nice to meet you, Robin,” the woman said, stepping forward and offering her left hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Miss,” Robin nodded, taking it. “Come, I’ll take you to Mr. Wolf Butcher.”

.

W
olf looked levelly at Savannah. And she looked back at him. There was just a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

The moments clicked by. The footsteps of an ant would have boomed across the room, such was the stillness.

At length, Wolf spoke. “Please...please sit,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Savannah said.

Another period of odd silence followed as Wolf didn’t know what next to do, or say. He put an arm around Robin’s shoulder and felt reassured.

Robin glanced at Daddy, then at Savannah, then at Daddy again, and she understood.

“I’m going to grandpa,” she said.

Wolf panicked.
No, don’t leave!

But she had already disengaged his arm from around her, gently but firmly, and was at the door. And before Wolf could say anything the door closed behind her.

He felt himself give a shudder as he turned back to Savannah. His fingers twitched by his trouser legs and he looked away.

Then he was angry at himself.
Sweet shit, some droob you are, aren’t you?!
And with that...

“This is a surprise!” he said, with sudden pluck.

“I know,” she said.

“They...they let you in? I mean...the security people?”

“Yes, they asked my name, then swiftly opened the gate,” she said, a slight surprise in her voice.

Oh, but they would—hadn’t he left clear and stern instructions many days ago that a woman of such a name was to be shown in without fuss.

“Yes,” he said.

“A very colorful room you have here,” she said, waving her hand, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth.

“You like it?”

“Well...it’s...rather interesting.”

Wolf smiled. Not many people in this subtle-fixated world had the belly for resplendence.
But at least here I should be allowed my tastes.

“Is this how superstars live?” she asked.

“What? … Oh. ... Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never socialized really,” he said. A flush had come to his cheeks. “But this is not a superstar’s room—this is a human being’s room.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she smiled. “I like this picture though,” she added, gazing indulgently at the big butterfly behind the bed. “Nice.”

Then she slowly turned back to Wolf. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet your deadline,” she said. “I needed more time.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “And if I may say this again, I’m truly, truly sor...”