Butterfly Lane (33 page)

Zanny didn’t protest. She desperately needed to be alone, to think. One more thing, though, needed doing.

“Where is she? Molly, I mean. Where is she buried?”

Steve answered. “If you go under the interstate, instead of getting back on it, and go on down the road past the motel about a mile and a half, there’s a cemetery on your right. It’s a big cemetery, but there’s an eight-foot-tall angel in the far left-hand corner in the front, near a beautiful oak tree. She’s next to the angel, one row back.”

John thanked him as they stood and made their way to the front door. Jocelyn grabbed Zanny for another tight hug.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I know. But I promise you, I’ll come back this time. I have two rambunctious little boys who are going to want to meet their new family.”

After more tears and hugs, they managed to get away. Zanny held the photos close to her heart, trying to wrap her head around everything she’d learned, as John pulled out onto the street.

“Where do you want to go?”

“To her. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

T
hroughout the day, John had kept a close eye on Zanny. He could only begin to imagine how hard all the revelations had been for her and what she was going through. So far, she’d held up, but stress had etched lines of strain around her mouth and eyes.

He doubted the wisdom of making the trip to the cemetery today and debated for five minutes whether or not to speak up. Given how much trouble keeping quiet had caused, he spoke. “Why don’t we get a room for the night and go to the cemetery tomorrow?”

Zanny rubbed her forehead. “I—I’d rather go today. I’m sorry.”

John touched her arm. “Don’t apologize. I’m just worried about you.”

She caught his hand and kissed it. “I’m okay.”

When they got to the cemetery, John spotted the angel right away. It was the tallest statue in the front of the cemetery. As they got out of the car, he cast a wary eye skyward. Dark clouds threatened rain, and he hoped they could get back in the car before it hit.

They found Molly’s modest grave marker easily. Zanny stood over it, just staring, for the longest time.

Her voice was choked when she read the dates. “Nineteen-thirty-nine to nineteen-eighty-six. That isn’t a lot of years.”

“No, it isn’t.”

She sank in front of the marker and ran her hand over the smooth surface. A cheerful, if somewhat droopy, bouquet of daisies filled the small vase beside the stone. Jocelyn had told them that she visited every Sunday. Zanny fingered one of the blooms and shook her head.

John waited, not interfering with her grief, until rain started to fall. At first, the droplets were gentle splashes, but within a minute, it was a downpour. “Zanny, we need to go.”

“No.”

The rain had begun to fall so hard that he could barely hear her over the sound. And it was cold, too, not a warm summer drizzle.

Hunkering down behind her, John put his hands on her shoulders. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but we need to go.”

Zanny jerked away from him. “I can’t leave her.”

Unsure of what to do, John hesitated. A flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder, made the decision for him. He wrapped an arm around Zanny’s waist and stood.

“We’re going. Your mother wouldn’t want you to get hit by lightning while visiting her grave.”

Zanny struggled. Not wanting to hurt her, John loosened his grasp, and she swung around angrily. “Damn you. She’s my mother. Let me go.”

“That isn’t going to happen. You can hate me all you want to, but I’m getting you somewhere safe.”

Her anger subsided at the words, and she slumped against him. He helped her to the car. Once they were inside with the engine running, he wiped the water off his face. They were both soaked to the skin. A glance at Zanny, who was crying softly beside him, told John they were not in any shape to drive the three hours home. Remembering the motel just down the road, he checked the traffic and pulled out.

The two-mile drive took twice as long as it should have because of the rain. He parked under the porte cochere in front of the office and turned the heater up full blast.

“Wait here.” With a worried glance at Zanny, he got out and hurried inside.

The man behind the counter gave him a suspicious look, taking in his wet clothing, but accepted his credit card readily enough. The air-conditioned lobby chilled him almost to the bone, and John was shaking as he signed the slip.

“Is there any way I can get some hot coffee sent over to our room?”

“Each room has a coffeemaker and all you’ll need to make a pot yourself. Is that sufficient?”

“It’s perfect, thanks.” He took the key and dashed out to the car. Zanny was huddled up in the passenger seat, and despite the warm air blowing out of the vents, she was shivering. “I got us a room,” he told her as he pulled the car around.

She didn’t say anything. Moving with urgency, John parked and unlocked the door to the hotel room, then propped it open with the bolt on the back. He didn’t like the blank look on Zanny’s face when he cajoled her out of the car. He paused only long enough to grab the bag they’d packed and lock the car.

Inside, he steered her straight to the bathroom. He had to get her warm. “Sit here on the toilet. I’ll get the coffee going and be right back. Can you undress?”

She didn’t answer, and he made the coffee so fast that he wasn’t sure it was going to be potable when it was done. Turning the water on so it would get hot, he stripped down as fast as he could, then kicked his clothes aside. Zanny hadn’t moved.

“Zanny, you’re scaring me. Come on. Let’s get your clothes off.” He stood her on her feet and cursed when he couldn’t get the button on her pants undone.

She stopped him with an icy-cold hand, and they managed to get her clothes off between the two of them. John tested the water temperature and adjusted it to where it needed to be, then wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the tub. Joining her, he maneuvered them so that the spray was hitting her back, as well as part of his shoulder.

After several minutes, Zanny finally stirred, lifting her head from his chest. John traded places with her. He was still shivering because he’d been so focused on getting her warm, he’d forgotten his own chills.

“They must have a huge water heater,” he joked as he pushed her wet hair off her face.

“Probably tankless,” Zanny responded without looking at him. “I’m sorry I fell apart like that. Sorry I hit you.”

“I’m tough. I can take it. And you don’t have a thing in the world to apologize for.”

Finally feeling warm enough to get out, he turned off the water and reached for the towels that were stacked neatly on a rack over the toilet. When Zanny actively participated in drying off, he sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.

“Go ahead and get under the covers. I’ll get us some coffee.” He poured two cups, one with extra sugar, then joined her. With the blackout curtains shut, the only light in the room came from the bathroom, creating an intimate, cave-like feel.

Mostly warm, John took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. It didn’t taste quite as bad as he’d expected, but it was far from good. He set his mug aside and wrapped an arm around Zanny. She had her knees drawn up, both hands around her mug, and was sipping slowly.

“John?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you, but you make a lousy cup of coffee.” She set the mug on the nightstand, then covered her face with her hands, laughing. In an instant, the laughter had turned to wracking sobs, and she buried her face in his chest.

John let her calm down a bit before he teased, “I swear to you, I’ll never make coffee again. I didn’t think it was that bad.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are there any tissues?”

He glanced around. “Not in here. I’ll check the bathroom.”

She was curled up against the pillows, the covers pulled up to her shoulder, when he came back with the box. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I just want you to hold me.”

So he did.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

A
n hour later, the rain hadn’t abated much. Dressed in dry jeans from the bag, John sat on the end of the bed and turned the TV to the local news. The weather map showed a widespread storm system.

“We’d be safer to just bunker down. And we’ve already paid for the room,” he told Zanny as she stopped beside him. She was wearing his clean, dry button-up shirt and nothing else. John pulled her close, resting his head on the side of her breast.

“I don’t think I could face three hours in the car tonight, anyhow.” She hugged him absently, sipping coffee from the pot she’d made.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I like seeing you wear my clothes?” He slid his hand under the shirt to caress her bare bottom. “Especially when you don’t have anything else on?”

Zanny pulled back and looked at him. “No, you haven’t.”

Letting his hand drop, John sighed. “Well, I do.”

“I’ll remember that.” She sat beside him, stretching out her feet to inspect her toes. “I slept in one of your old shirts more often than I slept in my gowns when you were gone. And there was a little bottle of cologne in the back of the cabinet. I’d sprinkle it on your pillow every time I changed the sheets.”

John was surprised by the admission, but he didn’t interrupt her.

“I hated being separated from you. Hated it. But I understood that we needed to be apart. I hope you did, too. The separation wasn’t something I did to punish you, at least, not for the most part. Though I was pretty angry after the kiss thing.”

“It took me a little while to understand, but I guess that’s part of the point of the whole thing.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a quirky smile. “Yeah, it is. But if I hadn’t thought it would bring me back to you, bring us back together, I never would have initiated the separation. Either time.” She ran her fingers through her curls, which had gone berserk after the rain and her shower. “What my mother and father went through, I can’t imagine that. And as much as I hate what he did to keep us apart, part of me understands. Part of me is grateful. Damn it.”

John thought he knew what she meant, but he asked, just in case, “How do you mean?”

She scratched her arm. “As much as it would hurt me to do it, if I thought you or your family represented a danger to the boys, I’d have no choice but to pull away from you. And from what Jocelyn said, my mother wasn’t stable. Taking me someplace safe, even though he took me away from her family, too, was probably the best thing my father ever did for me. When I try to reconcile that with the pain and anger I feel for him—and for her, if we’re being honest—it just gets jumbled up inside. But I get why he did part of what he did.”

“I think he took it to an extreme level, though,” John countered. “True, mental health care wasn’t the same then as it is now, but to separate you so completely, for so long? I just wonder if he was that angry, or if he knew something the rest of us don’t.”

Zanny’s brow wrinkled. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like if he visited her from time to time, without anyone knowing. Something Dad’s fond of saying occurred to me while I was listening to your aunt talk. A wound can’t heal if you’re continually pouring salt in it. And Dennis acted like a man who was continually pouring salt into his wounds.”

She considered his words. “It’s entirely possible, I suppose.”

“And she probably wouldn’t have wanted to mention it to her family, because she would have been ashamed of that contact. Especially if it didn’t go well. I don’t know. I’m just throwing it out there.” He took her mug and finished the coffee. “You are definitely the coffee maker in the family.”

“No arguments there.” She groaned and fell back on the bed. “So what are we going to do tonight?”

John sat the mug on the dresser and climbed over her. He rested his weight against her lightly and tugged on one of her curls. When he let it go, it bounced back into place, and he smiled. Most of the time, she kept them smoothed out. It was fun to see her head covered in a riot of corkscrews. “We could talk, or we could go out and get some food. Maybe see if there’s a store nearby to browse through, find a pack of cards.”

Zanny wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him closer. “Food sounds good, but I think I’m just about talked out.” She ran her hands down his back, scraping gently with her nails as she brought them back up. “You know, we’ve not stayed in a motel since our honeymoon. This brings back some memories.”

John hesitated. “I don’t want to take advantage of you right now.”

She lifted her hips, undulating them against his. “Feels like you do. And if I initiate things, you won’t be taking advantage of me. It will be the other way around.”

He groaned low. “I hate being noble. But I’m going to say no, not until after we’ve eaten.”

“Then you’d better find me a diner and find it fast, because I am going to have my way with you tonight,” she whispered in his ear, biting on the earlobe.

“I love you, Suzanna D’lores,” he whispered.

“And I love you, John David.”