The Butterfly Chronicles

Madrid 3.17 024

Here we go with number four :)   I can’t tell you guys enough, how much I appreciate you taking time to read along with this story.  It’s due for another revision, but basically this is how the story goes.  I look forward to reading your weblogs and online writing as well.  So much talent and skill!  Have an awesome Thursday, Loves.

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By five o’clock that afternoon the clouds had returned to the valley, gunmetal gray and sinister. Hannah bundled herself for the cold, checked the light, and left’s Alden’s with her birthday treasures. Eager to telephone Henry as soon as she got home, Hannah swept along the dusky streets.

How long had it been since she and Henry had seen each other? Hannah counted to sixteen months. A lot had happened with her since Henry had left; she’d moved out of June’s house, started the job at Alden’s, and dropped her senior year of high school. And now she was on the verge of leaving this hayseed town. Forever.

“I bet I can be out of here in two months, tops.” Hannah juggled weeks in her head. “Maybe sooner.” If Henry let her stay with him for a while she could finish high school. Hannah trudged along the railroad tracks. She had called Dawn for a ride, but when the busy dial tone sounded she had decided not to wait.

Dawn was always busy with her new college friends now. Hannah felt left behind. She didn’t want all of Dawn’s free time, only a little of it now and then. Hannah turned onto the street that led into her neighborhood and shifted the cake in her arms. It was heavy, but she would be home soon.

Tonight there were no children’s faces in windows. Houses were buttoned-up tight and the snowmen had melted into tired sentries. A truck drove slowly past and Hannah went rigid until she saw it was blue and not orange. “Don’t be so freaking paranoid!” She heard Dawn’s voice in her head. Hannah’s standard reply was always, “Paranoid– or careful?”

After midnight, a pickup truck paused in front of the house. It sat with the engine idling and headlights on, one lamp towed in like a lazy eye. The driver stomped the accelerator and rounded the street corner. It cut through a yard and the front half of a life-sized doe shot over the hood and landed in the road. A plastic fawn stood in the snow with its round eyes fixed in the direction the truck had taken.

 

 

The sun rose bright in a clear sky on the morning of Hannah’s eighteenth birthday. The horseshoe of mountain ranges capping the Central Valley glowed in veils of white. In the north, Mt. Shasta towered like a silent queen.

Hannah walked to work with a song in her head. She hummed through the neighborhoods of lopsided snowmen and children pulling red sleds and homemade toboggans. Hannah wanted to shout alongside them, “I’m eighteen today!” Eighteen and armed with a solid plan: to buy a car, pack it with everything she owned, and drive away. Just like Henry had done. Hannah was sure there was enough money in her bank account now to buy a car.

“It’s all coming together.” She smiled. The hard features of scrap piled near the train tracks were transformed by snowfall into a fluid landscape. Hannah squinted into the reflections of sunlight between long, winter shadows and patted a pocket with her gloved hand. The last of her secret stash money would pay for the cake, with plenty left over so she and Dawn could see a movie or order Chinese take-out. Hannah hoped Dawn found the note, even though she was certain Dawn would remember about her birthday.

Hannah hiked the alleyway and cut across the parking lot. Snow squeaked under her boots. Maybe her imagination was playing tricks with her, but it seemed like her gimpy gait had evened out a little. She felt taller, too. Hannah giggled. It was silly to think such things. She looked up and her skin crackled and iced over.

June was standing on Alden’s concrete walkway. She had on an amber-brown coat with leather buttons that looked like chocolate candies. She wore new jeans and boots. Her hair was neatly styled and her face shone. Not a trace of yesterday-June remained; this was June restored.

Hannah pulled her coat tight and when she stepped onto the walkway June grinned and offered a small, overly-decorated package, a card, and a letter. There was a moment of silence and then June burst into a scratchy rendition of the birthday song that ended with a sad clown smile.

June swooped and clasped both arms around Hannah. “Happy birthday, honey! I’m so proud of you!”

Hannah looked at June, then away, then at the gifts now in her hands. “Wow. I’m really– surprised.”

“Well, you deserve it! And seventeen already– I can hardly believe it!” June’s eyes teared. “Why, I was only seventeen when I had you– you’re old enough to be a mama now!”

“Actually,” Hannah began, then decided against pointing out that she was eighteen today. What kind of mother can’t remember how old her daughter is? And “old enough to be a mama”?

“Well… I don’t want to be late for work,” Hannah said in a polite tone. “Thank-you for the presents. And the song. And everything. I appreciate it. Thanks. Mom.” Hannah leaned into an awkward embrace with June.

“Oh, sure, sweetheart. Okay. You just have yourself a special day now, all right?” June tweaked her daughter’s face, a thing Hannah despised, and gave a little wave. Hannah watched June’s back as she disappeared around the corner.

 

 

“Man, that was weird.” Hannah inspected the kaleidoscopic box, the card with “Hannah” in June’s handwriting, and a letter from– Henry? A letter from Henry! She flew through the hallway and tore at her gloves. The storage room door was given a new boot mark and Hannah planted herself in the rollaway chair. Henry’s return address was Pismo Beach. Hannah’s hands trembled and opened the envelope.

Henry sent birthday wishes and renewed his invitation for her to visit. He was happy, doing well, surfing in the mornings and working evenings at the Fish Palace restaurant. He wanted to see her. “Here’s my number– call as soon as you can. Love, Henry.”

Hannah shot out of the chair. “YES!” She hooted and waved the letter over her head, shook her hips and laughed. After reading the letter twice more she carefully refolded it back into the envelope and put it in her coat pocket. As soon as she got home she’d call him. Hannah grinned. “Wait til I tell him I’ve got money for a car– he’ll be proud of me.”

The heater twanged on and Hannah stretched until her muscles tingled. Soon, she would see Henry. She rolled forward in the chair and looked at June’s present. The twins must have helped with the wrapping. Clumps of glitter were mixed with little boy treasures; pinto beans, a penny and a steel washer, wheels from a toy car, seeds, pebbles, colored plastic, old beads and matchsticks, a piece of string. The scarlet bow on top was bigger than the box.

Hannah smiled and remembered doing crafts with June when she was a little girl. She fished the box cutter from her pocket and patiently opened the package. Swaddled inside pastel tissue paper was a velveteen case. Hannah sprung the lid and when she saw the ring her mouth made an o-shape. A pomegranate-red garnet with small diamonds on each side were set into a gold band. The ring fit her finger perfectly and she held it to the light. She had never been given a ring before. She took it off and set it on the desk. June had given gifts before.

“Is she trying to butter me up for something?” Hannah read the flowery card:

Happy birthday, sweetheart,

This ring is old, it belonged to your grandmother.

She was brave like you. Wear it in health and

happiness.

Mom

Hannah frowned. It seemed good, but– if June tried to pull anything she’d give it back. She slid the ring on again and admired it. Its weight pleased her. Maybe this time a gift was just a gift. After all, June had called her brave and Hannah couldn’t remember her mother ever giving her a compliment like that before.

 

 

By noon the snow had melted from the streets and sidewalks. Hannah walked along Main Street and sunshine warmed the crown of her head. The Lucky Hen was swarming when she stepped in to pick up her lunch order. She sidled out and made her way to the pink bakery.

The walls, ceiling, and floor in Goldy’s Bakery were pink. Frilly curtains in the windows were embroidered with intricate pink flowers, and the wooden counter and pastry cases were also pink.

“I’ll be right out!” Goldy Dawson hollered from the back room when Hannah opened the door and made the jinglebells ring.

Hannah breathed deep and feasted her eyes. The glass cases were filled with donuts; plain, glazed chocolate and maple, with and without sprinkles. There were cinnamon rolls, apple turnovers, eclairs and cherry tarts; blueberry, banana, pumpkin and pecan muffins, oatmeal cookies and chocolate chip, sugar cookies, ginger snaps, coffee cakes and carrot cakes and golden loaves of bread.

Goldy popped out from a pink curtain. Her short, curly blonde hair was dusted in flour and she had smudges on her freckled face.

“Ah! Hello Hannah!” Goldy’s face sparkled. She pointed at Hannah and chirped, “Got yer cake all ready fer ya– be right back.” Goldy spun around, slapped pastry dust off her clothing, and slipped behind the curtain. She returned and set a small pink box next to the cash register.

“Come ‘ere, darlin– have a look at what I fixed fer ya.” Goldy removed the lid and motioned to Hannah. Nestled inside was a pintsized birthday cake swirled with white frosting. Miniature rosettes in pink and yellow icing encircled the top and in the center around a little cat that looked like Jake, lacy red letters spelled out “Happy 18th Birthday!”

“It’s perfect, Goldy!” Hannah smiled. “It’s beautiful– exactly what I wished for.”

Goldy beamed and rang up the register. “Wouldn’t be yer birthday by any chance, would it?”

“Well, yeah.” Hannah looked away and bounced the toe of her boot on the floor. “I’m eighteen today.”

“Lordy, lordy! I can hardly believe it.” Goldy grinned. “Hold on a sec, I got somethin for ya,” and she vanished behind the curtain and came back with a box of birthday candles.

“These is real beeswax candles,” said Goldy. “I was saving them for a special occasion. Happy birthday, sugar.” She clapped a powdery hand at Hannah’s arm and winked.

“Thank you, Goldy.” Hannah picked up the pink and white striped bag and smiled.

She opened the door and Goldy teased, “You be good now, darlin.”

Hannah laughed. “I will!”

 

~ by carmelablue on September 3, 2009.

2 Responses to “The Butterfly Chronicles”

  1. Thoroughly enjoying this…☺

    Second thing I did after walking in the house this morning after work, was turn on the laptop so I could found out what Hannah was up to.♥

    (first thing I did was turn on the air conditioner…another muggy hot day ☼☼)

  2. again…. so awesome.
    I love this…. why can’t it be next thursday already :)

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