The Butterfly Girl by Rene Denfeld

Author:Rene Denfeld
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Once called Claremont, then Fairfield, the state girls’ home was a place of sour ghosts. You could feel it, stepping inside. Like in all institutions, only bad things had happened here.

Naomi had driven a few hours to get there, noting as she passed the small towns along the freeway how she was retracing a path back to her captivity. The orphanage wasn’t far from the woods where she and her sister had been held underground. She passed thick forests that would have seemed beautiful to others but sent a shiver of fear through her. Something about the tangled underbrush, the manzanita and sword fern among the chaos of the trees, said here to her. And in the woods of her imagination she ran and ran.

Naomi stood in the decayed main hall and tried to remember. Did she hear the sound of running feet, the hushed whispers of little girls? The wet sweep of a mop, the taste of corned beef and cabbage? She could feel the memories in the background of her mind.

“I’m pleased you could come.” The retired woman held out spring-cold hands. Naomi could see rims of dirt in her broad nails; she liked gardening. She stared deeply into Naomi’s eyes. “I didn’t think it could be true . . . You are her. The older Bolen sister.”

Naomi closed her eyes. She now had a last name. She was someone, not just a nameless girl born from the dirt. A shiver began in her feet and moved up through her legs, making her feel faint. Bolen. My name is Bolen.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Naomi’s eyes were closed.

She now had a past. A mother. This woman was going to tell her about herself. The long-sought past was rushing up to her, a voice crashing through the woods behind her. It might pull her all the way back down the trapdoor, down the metal rungs she now felt with her hands. Into a room where she had whisper-sung to her little sister.

But she had to.

“I’m sorry. It must be hard.”

“Life is always hard,” Naomi said, her own voice tough. She opened her eyes, brought back the smile. “Tell me about myself.”

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