The Jade Butterfly

by Dawn Gardner

  She found herself lost in thought on the bypass and nearly missed the exit. Her phone directed her off the exit and within fifteen minutes she was deep into a rural area. She now was concerned about being here alone. And her phone’s signal was moving in and out. Didn’t matter. This was happening. In the middle of Richmond highway, her phone said, “you’ve arrived at your destination.” What the hell, Ellen thought. All she could see was a dense forest on the left, on the right a field of stumps of pine trees, there was no houses in sight for miles. She looked behind her in the mirror and saw a mailbox and a small gravel driveway. She backed up and turned in. The driveway went on for at least half a mile. She was going to get herself shot.

  The house was a small brick box. The front stoop was three cement steps and two columns that held a sagging overhang. Her phone had no signal, she pitched it into her purse. Ellen got out of the car, grabbed the canvas bag and her purse. The screen door was barely hanging on the hinges. She sat down her bags, held the screen door open and knocked on the black door.

  No answer.

  She knocked again, making more effort to make the knock louder than before. Her heart beat. She had no idea what she was going to say. Maybe she wouldn’t have to say anything. As she picked up her bags from the stoop, she heard a loud splitting sound. And then another. Ellen followed the sound around the side of the house. When she rounded the corner of the house, the ax was above his head. It came down and the log that had been whole was split into two halves. The sleeves of his red and black flannel shirt were pushed up to his elbows.

  Before he could raise the ax again, Ellen spoke. “Jack?”

  He turned quickly, and the ax came to rest on his shoulder.

  “Who are you?”

  Ellen stumbled over her words, “Umm, are you Jack Andrews from the American Ping Pong team?”

  “Who wants to know?” He took a wider stance and gripped the ax handle tighter.

  “Uh, I’m Ellen Darnell, I think you might have known my mother.” He just looked at her. “Joni Evans?”

  At the sound of her name, Jack fell into a seated position on the stump he had been chopping wood on. His head hung down and he gripped the top of the ax handle, using it to hold himself steady.

  “You sound just like her.” He said still hanging his head. “I had a dream about her last night, it was so freakin real. And when I heard you call me…”

  “Jack,” Ellen said and he raised his head to look at Ellen. “There was a horrible accident yesterday. My mother is dead.” Jack’s head dropped again and Ellen’s eyes filled with tears. Her voice choked and the tears streamed down her face, “I was hoping to ask you some questions,” Ellen could barely speak in between the crying, but she was trying to hold it together, “and tell you some things you might not know.”

  “Ellen.” Jack raised his head up and studied Ellen’s face. Ellen could now see his blue eyes, they were just as her mother had described them. “My mother’s name was Ellen.”

  Chapter 22

  Jack placed the ax down. “I’m so sorry. I don’t ever get visitors. Would you like to go into the house, it’s cold out here. I don’t have much to offer. Will whiskey do?”

  “Whiskey sounds perfect to me.” Ellen wiped her eyes, then her nose.

  “I’m not a good housekeeper either.”

  The house had a musty, earthy smell. Hunting magazines were pilled in the corners and a layer of dust covered most of the surfaces in the room. Underneath a small window sat a worn, red leather sofa. The upholstery was cracked and a spring protruded from the middle cushion.

  “Please sit,” and he pointed to the end of the sofa next to the brown plaid recliner. “I told you, I’m not much of a housekeeper.” Jack walked away and Ellen heard glass clanking in the kitchen. She looked at all the shotguns hanging on the walls and the television looked like it was at least twenty years old. Jack came back with the whiskey and two glasses. He drug a small, low table with his foot as he walked over to the recliner. He sat in the recliner and put the whiskey bottle and glasses on the table. He moved it closer, so it sat between him and Ellen. He poured and handed Ellen hers. They both drained the glasses.

  “More?” Jack said. Ellen placed her hand over the top of the glass and shook her head. He poured himself another. And sipped it.

  “You know she thought you were dead?” Ellen blurted out, not knowing where to start the conversation.

  “Yeah. I thought I was dead.” Jack sipped again.

  “What happened?”

  “I went to Nam in January of ’72. Everyone said the war was nearly over.”

  “You were drafted, right?”

  “Yep. I was fucking nineteen. Sorry, for the language.” Jack said. “I hated leaving Joni. But I had to, there was no choice.” Jack looked directly at Ellen, “I missed her so bad. Her letters…” He stopped himself and pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. “I was in the infantry. I saw things Ellen that no one should see.” Jack pulled the thread out and let it fall to floor. “It was the middle of August, we were out on a search and destroy. And I got separated from everyone else, I was lying on my back, the next thing I knew I was surround by the VC. I was a POW from August to March of 1973. They told my dad I was killed in an explosion. It was an honest mistake. I had left my personal items back at the camp and I guess they just thought I was included in that explosion. Everything was crazy there.” Jack took a sip of whiskey.

  “Wait, you came back in March of ’73?”

  “No, they released us then. I wasn’t right. I had some medical issues. When I finally came home in early December of ’73, I still wasn’t right mentally and I was on a lot of pain pills. Around Christmastime, I went to see Joni. To tell her I was alive. And that’s when I met you.”

  “What, me?”

  “I drove up to her house, parked on the street and Joni and your dad came out of the house. She was beautiful. And her belly was full. Were you born in January?” Jack asked.

  “February. February 2nd.”

  “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t wreck her life. I was such a mess. It was the last time I saw her. I made my dad promise not to tell her. I moved to Arizona. Opened a garage and tried to forget her. I spent thirty years in Phoenix trying to forget your mother.” Jack drained his whiskey and poured another. This time Ellen held her glass out for a refill.

  Jack looked at Ellen. “It didn’t work. That woman had my heart.” There was a long silence. Jack leaned back in his recliner and a tear rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away.

  “Did you ever marry?”

  “No, there were some ladies in my life. But, it never lasted long.”

  Ellen reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out the jade butterfly. She extended her arm toward him. And opened her hand, he looked down, “She wore this everyday of her life. Except the day she died, it got hung on the blanket in her bed.”

  Jack looked down at the jade butterfly and wept. He picked it up from Ellen’s hand and held it. “Excuse me.” And he stepped into the kitchen. Ellen didn’t want to upset him.

  “I can go, if you want me to.” Ellen said.

  “No, I don’t want you to go.” Jack came back into the living room. “Seeing this just got me.” He handed the pendant back to Ellen.

  “What happened to her yesterday?” Jack asked.

  Ellen explained the details of what happened at the school, her mother’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s and why she was in town taking care of her mother. “So, I found the book you gave my mother about the Chinese artist, The Floating Life, I think it’s called something like that. That’s how I knew to ask her about you.”

  “Oh. What did she say about me?”

  “Not much, but it was because her mind was not all there in the end. Her neighbor, Ted looks like a younger version of you and I think it triggered some memories. We met Ted, well, we met him because my mother was dancing naked in the front yard.”

  “That sounds like my Joni.” He smi
led. Ellen could tell he had drifted to another time and place.

  “Jack, this is so crazy. It’s like my mother was another person with you.”

  “I don’t know about that, because I only knew Joni as Joni. That summer was the best time in my life. And it was fifty years ago. Did she continue to paint?”

  Ellen pulled out the peony painting from the book. “She wanted you to have this.” Ellen handed Jack the painting and then pulled out the journal and the three cards, “And I believe these were made for you.” This time Jack wept in front of Ellen. He couldn’t contain the tears.

  “I thought I would never see these again. I’d never had something so beautiful made for me.” He placed the painting down on his lap and stared at the cards.

  “She did paint, but she did in secret. You were the only person that knew of her talents. I’m blown away by her artwork. But she never shared that side of her with us, only you.” Ellen wiped a tear away. “I believe she painted until the Alzheimer’s got so bad that she couldn’t remember how anymore.”

  “How did you find me?” Jack asked.

  “I found your messages in the book you gave her. One night, she mentioned at dinner that you played ping pong. And she had this thing for China, so I just googled the three things, and then Ted’s sister, who is an investigator found your address. I wasn’t even sure if you were my mother’s Jack. I just decided to take a chance.”

  “I was going to take her to China.” Jack looked away. “Sometime, I think it was July. She made me take her up to DC to the Chinese embassy. She was hell bent to get to China. She had such a fire in her.”

  “Really? Do you know why she wanted to get there?”

  “Yes. She never told you?” Jack said and Ellen shook her head. “She thought her mother would be there at the Yangtze River. She knew it was crazy, but she didn’t care. Joni knew that if she didn’t try, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. I admired that about her.” Jack held his glass in front of him and swished the whiskey around. “I bet she was a good mother.”

  “She was.”

  “Did she ever go to China?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I have something for you.” Jack got up and walked away to another room. He came back into the room with two small photographs and a stack of letters. “This is Joni. And this is Joni and me right before I had to leave for basic training. These were the only photos we had taken. I made your mother get into the photo both and take ones by herself because I wanted to carry one with me. We thought we’d have a lifetime for pictures. We didn’t. You never know what life is going to hold.” Jack held the letters, “These letters came back with my journal and the cards. I was never sure why my dad gave Joni everything but the letters. But, in the long run, I was glad. I read them a lot at first. Then I got angry. I want you to have these letters, Joni would have wanted you to know her then.”

  This man was in tune with my mother’s wishes even though their time together was so long ago. Ellen pulled out her letter from Joni. “Here, I think you should read this. I have to take it back with me, but I think you should know.”

  Jack took the letter. When he finished reading, he leaned back in the recliner and let out a long sigh. He smiled and handed the letter back to Ellen. “You have given me a great gift. All these years, I thought she had moved on. She loved me, like I loved her. I don’t mean any disrespect to your father. If I had a time machine right now, I’d go back and I’d talk to her that day in the driveway. Maybe our lives would be different. But, I’m not sad.” Jack looked at Ellen, “I’m glad I loved like that, even if it was a short time.”

  Jack pointed to the letter and asked, “Can you read the letter aloud to me.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Ellen read the letter. Jack asked that she read the part again about the painting.

  Ellen read, “‘One last thing, the painting with the peonies and the butterfly, it’s the top painting on the stack. I want that one handled specially. I don’t care what you do with the others. My Jack died in Vietnam, but I want this painting to honor him in some way.’”

  Jack opened his eyes. “Ellen, you sound just like your mother. My mother’s name was Ellen, Joni honored me again by naming you after my mother.” Jack wiped under his eyes. “I want you to take all this back with you. The painting, the letters, the photos. I have what I need here.” Jack touched his chest.

  Ellen could tell that this was the end of their conversation and Jack wanted to be alone. She placed everything into the canvas bag and gave Jack a hug. They held each other, and then he kissed Ellen’s forehead.

  When Ellen’s car got closer to the highway, her phone picked up signal again. The phone vibrated continuously, messages and voice mails came through all at once. Ellen saw she had three voicemails and multiple text messages from Kim. Pulling into a gas station, she called Kim back right away. The call went directly to Kim’s voicemail. Ellen then listened to Kim’s message. Hey, Ellen. I see you’ve been trying to get in touch with me. I’m in the town here, and the signal is really bad. We are only in town for a few more hours. I won’t be able to call you again until late Sunday. You can handle it, I trust you. Tell mom I said hi. Ellen’s heart sank. What could she have done. Text Kim, oh hey, your mother’s dead. Ellen felt the urge to throw up. She closed her eyes and let her head rest on the back of the seat. Sunday. It would have to be Sunday. She would have all the information and be able to fill Kim in on all the details. Ellen texted her sister back, Call on Sunday when you can. Love Ellen

  Ellen played the second voice mail. It was from the ATF investigator. “Mrs. Darnell could you call me back at your earliest convenience.” The third message was from Ted, who was checking in on her. She called the investigator back. Ellen hit the number from the voicemail, “Office Johnson.”

  “Hi, This is Ellen Darnell, I’m returning your call.”

  “Thanks Mrs. Darnell. I just wanted to ask if you’d come down to the station for an interview. We just have a few questions about some things we found. Tomorrow, at three, does that work for you?”

  Chapter 23

  A hard continuous knocking at the front door woke Ellen. What day was it? Her mind came into focus, it was Saturday. Her mother’s death was on Thursday, which seemed like years ago and fresh at the same time. She made her way to the knocking. It was the home health aide.

  Ellen opened the door and explained what had happened. The aide gave her sympathies and left. Ellen padded into the kitchen for coffee. Where was her phone? She was so exhausted last night, she wasn’t sure how she made into the bed. Before she could find her phone, the doorbell buzzed. She grabbed her coffee and went to the front door. Ellen had no energy left, she let Ted in.

  “Are you okay?” Ted grabbed her and held Ellen close. A slosh of coffee spilled out onto the floor. Ellen sat the mug down on the foyer table and relaxed into Ted’s arms. They stood there, Ted squeezing her tighter each time she’d try to pull away. “Come here.” Ted led Ellen into the sunroom and put her into the papasan chair. “Ellen Darnell, you’re not going to push me away. I brought you breakfast.” Her mind wanted to fight him, to send him away, to guard her heart, but he won out over all of it. She didn’t want to go through this alone and he was here. And for the first time since her father, she felt like there was someone to support her, someone she could lean on, which was different from her relationship with Richard. This was warm and strong.

  Ted put the breakfast sandwich on a plate and brought it to Ellen. He sat on the couch and they both ate.

  “I met Jack yesterday.” Ellen finally broke the silence.

  “No way, it was him?”

  “Yes it was. And he gave me letters my mother had written him, and a photo. It’s an incredible love story. Beautiful and sad.”

  “Love is messy sometimes. Hell, I think it’s probably messy all the time.” Ted sipped his coffee. Ellen smiled. “So nice to see that smile!”

  Ellen got up and came back in
to the sunroom with the canvas bag. She sat next to Ted on the couch and pulled out the photo of her mother. “Wasn’t she pretty?”

  “She sure was.”

  “I still haven’t told Kim. We missed each other yesterday, and I’m not texting this.” Ellen said. Ted held her hand.

  “The school was put on a shut down for the past two days. Everyone is pretty shaken up.”

  “I have to go to the station at three today for an interview.”

  Ted squeezed her hand, “I’m driving you, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Ted, who do you think planted a bomb? I know it wasn’t my mother. And I’m just so confused on why she found it, and why she took it out to the parking lot. It was as if she knew what was inside.” Ellen said.

  “I don’t know. We may never know what happened. I’m sure the investigators are doing their best. I know Joni didn’t do it. But who and why, I can’t even guess. And for our school, this means an evaluation of our security process. But, I will tell you this, if she hadn’t gone missing and the school had went on with the career assembly…God, I’m not sure how many people could have died.”

  “I feel guilty for taking my mother to school. I know it’s not rational, but I somehow feel it’s my fault that she is dead.”

  “If I wouldn’t of left my bag, you and your mother wouldn’t have been at the school. It’s my fault.” Ted squeezed Ellen’s hand and pushed her hair from her face. “Ellen, I bet even the school security are asking themselves some hard questions, we could all play the blame game. I don’t know why your mother did what she did. But it’s not your fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not the school security’s fault. Things happen, and I find that when you’re in the heart of something, you can’t see the bigger picture.”

  “Are you a teacher or something like that?” Ellen smiled and looked away from Ted. “I hear what you’re saying, and my mind knows that, but my god, my heart is breaking. And I keep wishing I could have a do-over.”