The Butterfly Garden by Mary Campisi

Author:Mary Campisi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940921020
Publisher: Mary Campisi Books, LLC

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It was 1:10 a.m. when Elliot brought Jenny home. He walked her to the door, took her hands in his and leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers, once, twice, making her body thrum like his Harley, and then he pulled away. She wanted to yank him back, press her lips, her body, against his, tell him not to stop just yet, but instead she stood there, watching him turn away, get on his Harley, wave good-bye.

Elliot Drake filled her senses as she let herself in the house, slipped off her sandals, and padded across the foyer. He was right; she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. There was so much more to the man than horn-rimmed glasses and diplomas on the wall…and she was beginning to realize that she wanted to find out so much more …

She stifled a yawn, slung her sandals in her left hand, and tiptoed upstairs. That’s when she heard the low keening sound coming from the far end of the hall. Grace’s room.

Jenny ran down the hall, a million dreadful possibilities racing through her. Grace had hurt herself, fallen, blacked out. Or maybe she’d experienced some kind of delayed problem from the accident.

“Grace!” Jenny let out a fierce whisper as she opened her sister’s door. It was pitch-black. She stood in the doorway, listening. Nothing. She flicked on the light.

“No!”

Grace was huddled in the far corner of the room, head bent, an orange bandanna lying several feet away, hugging her knees to her chest. Crumpled pieces of paper lay at her feet.

“Grace? What’s wrong?” Jenny started toward her, wondering what could have happened in the few hours she’d been gone to put her in such a state.

“No!” she sobbed again. “Turn out the light!” She jerked her head up and met Jenny’s gaze. Her eyes were red and almost swollen shut, her nose puffy, her lips pulled into a straight line. But it was the torment etched across her face that shocked Jenny most. “Turn it off. Please.” Her voice was flat, her words, empty.

Jenny switched off the light. “Grace?” she said, inching her way forward in the dark. “What happened? Is it the girls? Are they all right?”

“They’re fine. Laura has them.”

“Did something happen after I left?”

“Bastard,” she whispered. “Goddamn bastard.”

Grace never swore. “Who, Gracie?” Had she taken the pain pills Dr. Shaffer sent home with her? If so, how many? Grace got tipsy on half a glass of wine. Maybe she was having some kind of reaction to the stuff.

“Bastard,” she said again, but this time her voice quivered.

Jenny worked her way toward her sister, feeling along the edge of the bed. When she heard her sniff, she knew she was close. “I’m going to sit with you, Gracie,” she said, easing to the floor in the darkness. She swatted away a few crumpled pieces of paper. One of them got stuck under her foot. She reached for it, felt the glossy edge of a photograph.

“Just put your hand out so I know where you are,” Jenny said.

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