The Monarch Graveyard

by James R Nelson

  Jeanette turned toward the door. “I have to get back. I told Cora I’d only be gone a minute. I saw you drive up, and I was surprised you didn’t come over to us. But…now I understand.”

  He stood. “It’s only a thought. I need to get more experience. Who knows, maybe he’s got a project in mind and we don’t know anything about it.”

  Jeanette smiled. “Yeah, like all the other things that have been going on around here we don’t know anything about.” She stepped into the hallway.

  “Wait. I’ll come with you.”

  When they got over to Britt’s place, Stephen stood next to the furniture truck. “What’s all this about?”

  Jeanette grabbed his arm. “It’s crazy. Cora and I had just finished when this big truck pulled up and a man said they were here to take out all the old furniture and put in new. All of Britt’s things are gone now. Everything.”

  “Did you ever find out what’s gotten into Phillip?”

  “No.” She pointed. “Look at him. He’s barking out orders, telling them where to put all the new stuff. He hasn’t said a word to either of us. I can’t believe he arranged for new furniture to be delivered today. Normally that would be something he’d have me take care of.”

  “I know. Maybe he just got tired of sitting in Britt’s place and thinking about the past. I’m actually happy he’s making that house into something new, but I’m surprised he never mentioned anything to us. It’s not like him. Usually he’s very interested in our opinions.”

  Jeanette stretched and rubbed her shoulder. “Poor Cora’s exhausted. She’s been working so hard. Even I can feel it in my back and arms. That was a lot of bending and lifting. She hasn’t had time to cook tonight, so it’ll be leftovers for us.”

  “Not a problem here. Last night’s dinner was great.”

  In a doctor’s office in Green Bay, Wisconsin, Walter Mattson sat across the desk staring at his daughter’s physician. “What is it, Doctor? What’s happening to Kimberly? Why is she having such a problem walking? Is it—.” He didn’t want to say the word. Finally he asked, “Polio?”

  Doctor Emanuel shook his head. “No. We think it’s a virus, but it’s not polio.” He removed his glasses. “Your daughter’s had some stress recently, hasn’t she?”

  Walter nodded. “Yes. My wife, her mother, passed away a month ago. It was a shock. She was killed by a drunk driver.” He paused as tears welled up. “Do you think this may have had something to do with Kim’s problem?”

  “It’s something to consider. There is a direct connection between a person’s emotional state and viruses. We’ve seen this in the past with children.”

  “Those leg braces. How long will she have to wear them?”

  The doctor sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll have to monitor her very carefully. The medication I’ve prescribed should help, but in rare instances, I’ve seen this condition get worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “I know. I wish I had better news. Try and keep her walking. The braces should help, but sometimes children are self-conscious and they don’t want to use them. You need her to walk as much as possible to try and build up the muscle tissue she’s lost.”

  “My sister’s asking us to come and visit her for a few weeks. She’s three hours north of here. Do you think we could go? She has a cottage in the Upper Peninsula.”

  “Would Kimberly get fresh air and exercise?”

  Walter smiled. “Yes. There’s no television at the place.”

  “Wonderful. Yes, by all means. Just make sure she doesn’t tire herself out too much. But playing outside would be good for her.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. That’s what we’ll do. I don’t have to be back to work at the college until the second week in September.” He stood up. “Thank you.”

  Three

  The next morning, Phillip Kahle entered Jeanette’s office. He looked worried.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked.

  “This damn rainy cold spell. I’m worried about the monarchs. Now’s the time they start arriving at the sanctuary. This cold weather can’t be good for them.”

  Jeanette fiddled with a pencil on her desk. “I know. I was thinking about that yesterday. There’s nothing we can do about it. Do you want to drive over there and see how they’re doing?”

  “Yes. Maybe we should.”

  She glanced down at his calendar and pointed to a date with her pencil. “That’s probably not going to happen. Look, you’re flying to Florida tomorrow for the wedding. Are you packed? ”

  He glanced down at the paper. “Damn. I can’t leave. You’re going to have to cancel. I can’t…there’s no way I can make that trip.”

  Jeanette tapped her pencil against the top of the desk. First it was getting rid of Britt’s things and now this. She glanced up at him. “You know you won’t get a refund on the plane fare, but I’ll try and get your motel deposit back. Do you mind me asking why you can’t make the trip?”

  Phillip turned toward the door. “See what you can do about the refund.” He glanced down at his watch. “I’ve got to get going.” With that, he hurried out of her office.

  Four hours later, Stephen was having a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Cora pulled a pie out of the oven and set it down on a cooling rack. “Anything new about Jeanette’s mum?”

  “Unfortunately not. Her sister’s making plans to bring hospice in.” He paused. “That’s never a good sign.”

  Cora pulled a chair across from him. “No. I feel so sorry for Jeanette. Losing your mother’s never easy.”

  “Especially her mother. Jeanette tells me stories of how tough she had it growing up. Her dad drank and then abandoned the family. Her mother worked several jobs just to make sure her daughters had enough to eat and a roof over their heads.”

  “I’ve only met her twice. She seemed like a nice lady.”

  “It’s so hard. I keep trying to think of things to do, but there’s really nothing at this stage that’s going to change anything.”

  Cora reached over and patted Stephen’s hand. “Just be there for her. That’s the best thing you can do.”

  “I can do that.”

  Cora cocked her head. “What’s that?”

  Stephen listened. “A car horn. Sounds like someone’s trying to get our attention. Let me see what’s going on.”

  Jeanette was already at the front door when he came up behind her and asked, “Who is it?”

  She stood there with a look of amusement on her face. “You’re not going to believe this. It’s Phillip.”

  “Is something wrong? Does he need help?”

  She stared out the open doorway. “He’s got Barbara Jenkins with him, and it looks like she’s got about a year’s worth of luggage with her.”

  “Barbara? Oh, no. We’re not going to have another scream queen convention here, are we?”

  Jeanette turned to him. “How would I know? All of a sudden your uncle doesn’t seem to want to inform me of anything.”

  Phillip called out from the driveway, “For goodness sake, Stephen. Can you get over here and help Barbara with her suitcases? Take them all over to Britt’s place, will you?”

  Jeanette turned to Stephen. “Looks like one mystery’s just been solved.”

  “You think so? Why all the luggage? It doesn’t appear that she packed for a short little week-end visit. From the amount of bags she brought, I think the mystery’s just begun.”

  ###

  Cyrus Bonaventure pushed open the sliding glass door of his second floor suite in the Atlantic Shores Bed and Breakfast. The old building was located on an isolated stretch of A1A ten miles south of the tiny community of Melbourne Beach, Florida.

  He stepped back into the air-conditioned living room and wiped his brow. A few drops of sweat fell onto the old Florida heartwood pine floor.

  “By God, Elena, I still can’t fathom why your nephew decided to get married here in August. This heat and humidity’s going to be the death of me yet. What the hell was he thi
nking?”

  His wife stubbed out her cigarette. “Do we really have to rehash this again? I know. It’s hot. It’s next to unbearable. But Richard’s having the wedding here to honor his father.”

  Cyrus walked over to one of the huge timbers that rose from the foundation all the way to the roof of the old building. “I wonder how much they had to put into this place to turn it from an old Coast Guard Station to a bed and breakfast. Not a bad place for your brother to be during the war. He always was a lucky bastard.”

  Elena laughed. “Thomas Jefferson was a great believer in luck. He said the harder he worked, the more he had of it.”

  Cyrus refilled his empty glass with vodka and orange juice. “Well, come to think of it, your brother wasn’t so lucky, was he, when his car ran off Mulholland Drive?”

  “Cyrus! What a mean thing to say. Poor Francesco. He was so looking forward to this wedding.”

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “How your sick mind can twist together a tragic accident and luck in the same breath is beyond me.” She walked over to the bar and poured more vodka into her glass. “And don’t ever say anything like that in front of Richard. He’s devastated his father can’t be here for the wedding. It’s just like you to try and ruin something beautiful and nice.”

  Cyrus pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket. “Sweating my ass off is about as far from beautiful and nice as I can imagine.”

  She took a sip from her glass. “I thought I asked you not to smoke those stinky things in here.”

  He flicked his lighter. “For what I’m paying for this dump, I’ll smoke wherever I want to. And tomorrow, if I feel like it, I just might dance naked on top of the wedding cake.”

  Elena picked up her romance novel and rubbed her temples. A headache was coming on.

  There was a soft knock on the door. Cyrus put down the paper and stared at his wife. “Who could that be? I certainly hope it’s not that insufferable Agnes Brentwood again asking you a thousand questions.”

  Elena shook her head. “Cyrus, please. She’s nervous. She wants everything to go just right for her daughter’s wedding. You need to cut her some slack. That’s what the mother of the bride’s supposed to do.”

  “Is drenching herself in coma-inducing perfume part of it too?”

  Elena smiled. “She does go a little overboard at times.” She opened the door.

  The girl who had been cleaning their room stood outside holding a folded piece of paper. “I have a message for Mr. Bonaventure.” She handed it to Elena.

  “What’s your name, dear?”

  “Amber. Amber Tibbs.”

  “Hold on, Amber.” Elena went back to her purse, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to her. “Here. Thank you for doing such a nice job of straightening up our room.”

  Amber smiled. “Thank you.” She peered around Elena.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No. That’s all.”

  Elena shut the door and handed the note to her husband.

  “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know. The girl said it was a message for you.”

  Cyrus read the note and then looked up at his wife. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “What is it?”

  He tossed the paper onto the floor. “That damn Phillip. He’s not coming.”

  “Not coming? He has to come. He’s the one who introduced Richard to Caroline on the set of that ungodly creature movie of his.”

  “That ungodly movie made us a ton of money.”

  Elena picked up Phillip’s note. “That’s not the point. He said he was coming, and he should be here. The kids were looking forward to seeing him.”

  Cyrus pushed himself up from his chair and headed to the small bar they had set up in the kitchen. “They’re hardly kids. They’re both in their thirties.”

  She read the note. “Something came up, and I can’t make it? That’s it? What could be so important that he can’t tell us why he had to cancel at the last minute?”

  “It probably dawned on him how damned hot it is down here this time of year, and he came to his senses and cancelled.”

  Elena shot him a withering look.

  ###

  Angela Stefano tossed her new luggage on her bed. She pulled out several summer tops, carefully folded them, and set them in the suitcase. She was excited about her trip. It had been too long since she had seen her sister and her niece. A smaller suitcase was already packed. It contained clothes and toys for the little girl. Would the new clothes fit? Jenna said she took a size 3 now.

  She packed a few more things and sat down on the bed. It would be different not going with Peter. It had been quite a shock when he ended their engagement. Funny about intuition. She wasn’t surprised when she heard about the other woman. The last few months she just had a feeling that something wasn’t right. Oh, well. A change of scenery would do her good. Ten more days of work. She fought back tears. Damn, him.

  She glanced at the clock. What was she doing? She had to be at work in less than an hour. Too much thinking about her trip. She ran to the shower. Her boss, Doctor Franklin, stressed punctuality. Now wasn’t the time to make her angry.

  ###

  Doctor Nancy Franklin pulled up to the huge Newberry State Mental Hospital complex and parked her car. Its name had changed two years before to the Newberry Regional Psychiatric Hospital, but Doctor Franklin was used to calling it by the name it had been when she arrived six years before.

  She exited the car and started walking toward the red bricked administration building, where her office was located. At least the name she used was better than the original, the Upper Michigan Asylum for the Insane.

  The administration office was one of twenty buildings arranged in a huge rectangle. The complex was on a 720 acre farm which provided most of the meat and vegetables for the staff and patients.

  She showed her badge to the guard at the front gate and walked up the four flights of stairs to her office. She unlocked her door, set her briefcase on the desk, and looked out of her window. Two guards were leading a group of inmates out of the building to do the morning cleanup ritual.

  Angela Stefano, stepped into her office. “Morning, Doctor Franklin. What’s so interesting out that window?”

  “Nothing much. It’s the same thing I see every morning. The guards taking the women outside to clean up the grounds and work on the landscaping.” She moved over to her desk and sat down. “I’m still a little nervous about letting our group work outside. But, we’ll never be able to prove our hypothesis if we don’t.”

  Nurse Stefano smiled. “I know. Thank you for letting me work with you on this. Praise and reward. I think we may be on to something here.”

  Doctor Franklin turned back to the window. “Let’s hope so. But we can’t ever become complacent. Those women have committed some heinous crimes. Especially Louise. Don’t trust her and never turn your back on her. Little Miss Applegate can be quite the charmer. She’s pretty. Nobody ever thinks psychopathic killers are going to be pretty. People think they should look like the wicked witch of the west, not Barbie with black hair.”

  She walked to her desk and pulled a folder out of her briefcase. “Did you say we’re getting a new intern from Kalamazoo College?”

  “Yes. Ralph Comstock. He’s starting next Monday.”

  “Make sure you brief him about Louise. Remember that guy from Central a few years ago?”

  Angela frowned. “The one who wanted to marry her? Oh, I remember. It took twenty eight stitches to close his wound.”

  Dr. Franklin sighed. “Yes. That’s the one. If she can make progress with our test group, anyone can.”

  ###

  Walter Mattson’s sister, Irene Andrews, watched through the window as her niece stood next to the butterfly garden Irene had planted in the spring. She turned to her brother. “Walter, it just breaks my heart to see Kimmie in those braces. It reminds me of the fifties when polio was running rampant.” />
  “I know. I never thought I’d see my daughter hobbling around in those things. Doctor Emanuel said they’d help. He’s hoping she gets strength back in her legs. Kim hates them. She cries every time I put them on her.”

  “And it’s some kind of virus?”

  Walter nodded. “Yes. It’s cropped up in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Minnesota. I guess the outbreak in Saint Paul is the worst.”

  Irene moved from the window and sat down next to him. She took his hand. “My goodness. First Diane’s death and now this. How are you holding up?”

  He squeezed his sister’s hand. “I try to be strong for Kim, but I swear, it’s been hard sometimes. Thank you so much for inviting us up here. It’s so relaxing and it’s nice not to be surrounded by memories of Diane. I think it will do us both good.”

  “I’m so glad you came. She seems fascinated by those butterflies. Every time she goes outside, she heads over to the garden. There’s a place I want to take you to. I think she’ll love it. It’s just down the road.

  Half an hour later, Walter Mattson and his daughter exited his sister’s car. “Where are we?” Kimberly asked.

  Irene pointed to a large wrought iron sign that arched over the cobblestone walkway they were standing on. “It’s called the Britt Adolphson Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary. A rich man created this place as a safe haven for the monarch butterflies as they start their migration to Mexico. The paper said the migration has started early this year. I thought we’d come by and see how many we could see.”

  Kimberly’s eyes darted around. “I don’t see any.”

  Irene laughed. “We have to walk down this path through the woods until we get to an open field. They’ve planted milkweed there for the butterflies to eat.”

  Kimberly frowned. “How far do we have to walk?”

  Walter took her hand. “We’ll go slowly. When you get tired, we’ll stop and rest.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m so excited. How many butterflies do you think we’re going to see, Daddy?”

  “I don’t know.”