Butterfly Kisses

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I don’t know. I didn’t check that closely.” Mariposa closed her eyes, trying to stave off the headache that was threatening. “I understand why you didn’t tell me at first, but I’m no longer a child. Why didn’t you tell me before now, Ellen? Why not when I turned twelve or sixteen? Surely I could have handled the truth long ago.”

  “You probably could, but I’m not sure I could.” Ellen pulled in a ragged breath. “I’ve dreaded this day for years—the day when Che Lopez would catch up with us. I can’t count how many times I almost took you to Europe. We could have found a little villa in Italy, a quiet place out in the country where we could have picked grapes or learned how to paint. It would have been a beautiful life, Mariposa. We would have been happy.”

  “So, why did we stay in the States?” Mariposa asked.

  “I wanted to stay nearby in case my parents needed me. If they were to fall ill . . .”

  Mariposa instantly felt guilty for not thinking of them sooner. She’d been told her whole life that Ellen was her only family, so the concept of having grandparents was astonishing. “Are they still alive?”

  “Yes, thankfully, both of them are. And I’m sure they’d love to meet you.” Ellen paused. “Have you decided what you’d like to do about Mr. Lopez?”

  “No, and I threw Brant off our property for rushing me. I told him I’d send word to the hotel when I was ready to talk to him, and that he’d better leave me alone until then.”

  Ellen smirked. “Good for you. I never should have feared that you’d rush into this decision.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned being afraid. What are you scared of, Aunt Ellen?”

  “Me? Oh, lots of things. Grasshoppers. My hair turning white. Nearly every politician I’ve ever met. Most of all, though, my darling girl deciding to go live with her dangerous, no-good father, forgetting all about me, and then having something terrible happen to her.”

  “Oh, Ellen, I’m not going to leave you.” Mariposa reached over and grasped her aunt’s hand. “Nothing could ever convince me to leave you.”

  “You will someday, though—you’ll meet a dashing young man who will sweep you off your feet, and you’ll ride off in his buggy without giving me a second thought.”

  “It’s a good thing you know me better than that. Of course I want to get married someday, but when I do, your comfort will be at the forefront of my mind. How could I abandon you after all you sacrificed for me?”

  Ellen fumbled in her pocket for her handkerchief, then wiped her eyes. “The imagination does build things up to seem so much grander than they really are. Mariposa, I only kept the truth from you because I feared losing you. Knowing how much you crave adventure, I thought you’d seek him out for yourself and be gone before I could blink. I also wanted to keep you safe. The gambling lifestyle . . . it’s not stable, my dear. You could eat like a queen one day and starve the next, not to mention the other unsavory elements we’ve already discussed.”

  “Murder and debauchery?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, not exactly. We’ve discussed murder. We didn’t quite make it to debauchery yet, which was disappointing considering that it sounds fascinating.”

  “Gracious, girl,” Ellen scolded, even though she was smiling. “I hardly know when you’re joking sometimes.”

  “Well, I’m not joking when I say this—I love you for everything you’ve done for me, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Regardless of what I decide, whether I meet with Che Lopez or not, you have a special place in my heart, and that will never change.”

  Ellen wiped her eyes again. “Thank you. I believe I needed to hear that.”

  Mariposa stood, bent over, and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I’ll make dinner tonight. It’s been a long day.”

  “That’s a lovely offer, but why don’t we both take the night off? I understand there’s a restaurant in town, and we haven’t eaten out in quite a while.”

  “I like the sound of that. Why don’t we spoil ourselves even further and take a nap before dinner?”

  Ellen smiled. “You certainly are feeling extravagant.”

  “I really am.”

  “All right. Naps and then dinner out. Then what?”

  “Then let’s go to bed early. I don’t know about you, but I feel as though I could sleep for a week.”

  “I do too.” Ellen paused. “Thank you for handling this as well as you have, Mariposa. I was afraid this would cause an unbreachable rift between us.”

  Mariposa pulled in a deep breath. “I was afraid of that too—in fact, I was quite angry at you while I was scrubbing the pillowcases. But I couldn’t let that overtake me. You’ve given me your everything—how could I return that with anything less than my own best efforts?”

  Ellen reached up and patted Mariposa’s cheek. “You’re a good, dear girl. Now, let’s get started on those naps so they can be the proper length, shall we? There are few things in life more disappointing than a nap prematurely interrupted.”

  Chapter Four

  Mariposa spent a great deal of time Saturday night thinking, and a good portion of Sunday morning as well. When it was time to attend church, she’d made up her mind to let Che Lopez know where she lived, but not to see him. That felt like a good compromise, and if she changed her mind later, they’d know where to find each other.

  If she changed her mind. There was no guarantee in that, no promise—it left room for her to continue thinking things over. She wanted to ask Brant more questions about Mr. Lopez, what sort of man he was in temperament and so forth. He must not be too terrible or Brant wouldn’t have agreed to work with him, but men’s tolerances and women’s tolerances were often very different.

  She finished feeding and watering their horse, then went back inside to wash up. They’d walk to church—everything they needed in Belle was easily accessible by foot. She might have to take the horse on some special outings just to make sure he didn’t turn into a statue from not being used. There were some outlying areas, and once she made friends, she might take the horse visiting. That sounded nice.

  Mariposa paused as she dried her hands. She’d just assumed they’d stay in Belle now—after all, they’d been found, and they knew they could be found again should they choose to leave. But did they want to stay in Belle forever, or was this just a place where they’d landed until they got their bearings again?

  This was another decision that couldn’t be made overnight. If they had the financial means to live wherever they chose, they’d better give that matter some serious thought. But what would it be like to choose a home based on preference and not desperation? She’d like a garden, and a wraparound porch. Some trees in the yard, maybe a little brook running through the property—nothing fancy, but something wonderfully homey and hers.

  “Are you ready?” Ellen called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Coming.” Mariposa picked up her Sunday hat and pinned it in place, then joined her aunt at the front door. “What do you say, Aunt Ellen—shall we actually make some friends here in Belle?”

  Ellen quirked an eyebrow, then smiled. “Yes,” she replied. “I think we should.”

  They greeted everyone they met along the way, exchanging names and smiles. They all seemed to be headed for the church, so they made quite a procession as they approached the building, and Mariposa smiled as she caught bits and pieces of chatter from some of the women around her. She caught the names “Grace” and “Rose” amongst the others. A few were recently engaged, while others were still trying to resolve their romantic dilemmas. They made sure to include Mariposa in the conversation, clarifying things that might be confusing otherwise, and her heart warmed at their efforts. If Belle was to be their permanent home, she felt she could be happy here.

  “Oh, my.” Summer grabbed Mariposa’s arm. “Do you see that young man leaning against the fence post? I wonder who he is.”

  Mariposa looked over as well, then felt her cheeks go aflame. “His nam
e is Brant Fielding. He’s just visiting.”

  “You know him?” Suddenly Mariposa was even more popular. “Is he engaged? Traveling alone? Does he like dogs? Do you think he’d accept an invitation to Sunday dinner?”

  She answered each question as best as she could, amused but also somewhat jealous. Of course it was normal for a new young man in town to receive a lot of attention, but she hadn’t stopped being angry with him yet, and it seemed that she should have a chance to resolve her feelings before everyone else dove in with theirs.

  Brant seemed to notice that he was suddenly the center of attention, and he touched the brim of his hat. The girls immediately dissolved into fits of giggles and walked toward the church even faster, probably trying to avoid further embarrassment.

  The pastor stood at the doorway of the church, shaking the hands of the parishioners as they entered, and he introduced himself to Mariposa and Ellen as Leroy Elkins. Mariposa repeated that to herself a few times—she’d heard so many names over the last few minutes, they were all jumbling together in her brain, and she knew it would take a lifetime to sort them all out.

  She smiled. This time, it might be worth the effort.

  The sermon was about the prodigal son, and for the first several minutes, Mariposa listened to the recounting of the familiar story without paying it too much particular heed. But then certain elements of the tale began to stick out to her, making her feel uncomfortable, and by the end of the sermon, she felt as though someone had stuck a cocklebur down her back.

  Not caring one whit for societal expectations or any sort of good manners, she marched up to Brant in the church courtyard, where he was chatting with a couple of young ladies and their mamas, and she interrupted by saying, “Dinner’s at five.” Then she marched off again, wishing she had some sort of road map or navigation chart to tell her where to go and what to do.

  When Brant arrived, she was waiting for him on the front porch, and she didn’t invite him to sit down before blurting out the question on the tip of her tongue. “Che Lopez has done nothing to deserve having me in his life. He’s still gambling and he’s proud of it, he’s doing . . . who knows what else . . . What right does he have to chase me all over the country like I’m some kind of property?”

  Brant held up a hand. “I don’t think this is a matter of claiming property. I honestly think he wants to reconnect with his daughter.” He paused. “You seem more upset than you did the other night. Did something happen?”

  “It’s all the pastor’s fault!”

  “It is?”

  Mariposa shook her head and plopped down on a porch chair. “The prodigal son. He went off and spent his inheritance and felt sorry for what he’d done, and he was welcomed back with open arms. What am I supposed to do with a father who seems to relish being the way he is?”

  Brant sat down next to her. “So . . . are you saying that only perfect people should ever be allowed to see their children? That would leave a whole lot of children parentless, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t say they had to be perfect. Just maybe . . . not so imperfect.”

  “And who gets to decide which is which?”

  She glared at him. “Will you stop being so logical? I’m angry, and I want at least twenty minutes of it before I move on.”

  “Very well.” Brant pulled out his pocket watch. “I’m prepared to give you your full allotment.”

  “Good. And then dinner will be ready.” She crossed her arms. “Since you’re in the mood to be logical, let’s examine this one piece at a time, shall we? First, he elopes with my mother. What kind of man sneaks around at night and carries off people’s daughters?”

  “Bad ones. Very bad ones.”

  “Exactly. Then he takes her to live on a riverboat. Honestly, that’s such a horrible place for a woman to live, and to raise a child? What was he thinking?”

  “Absolutely nothing good.”

  “Precisely! And then he shoots a man . . . kills him, when he himself only got shot in the arm. How is that fair?”

  “It’s not fair at all. He should have shot the other man in the arm. In the exact same location, even.”

  Mariposa chose to ignore Brant’s increasingly dry tone. Her time wasn’t up yet. “His wife and daughter went home to find safety, to get out of his clutches, and he doesn’t understand that he’s not good for them. Instead, he decides to hunt them down!”

  Brant shook his head. “Hold on there a second. How do you know your mother brought you home specifically to get you out of Che’s clutches? What if she thought he was going to jail, and she needed somewhere to be?”

  “I think that’s being rather nitpicky. What does it matter why she did it? The fact is, she did it.”

  “Her motivations would be very important. You’re talking about a man’s character, and who better to help determine his character than his wife?”

  Mariposa shook her head. “Every time I try to be logical, you out-logic me.”

  “I just want to be sure this is a fair discussion.”

  “I don’t want to be fair.”

  “I noticed.”

  Again, she ignored him. “For whatever reason, my mother left. She left, Brant. Why isn’t that a clear indicator of what she wanted?”

  “Didn’t she pass away a short time later?”

  “Yes . . .” Mariposa didn’t want to tell him just how she’d died. If Charlotte’s heart had been broken at leaving Che, Brant’s premise would be correct, and hers would be wrong. She wasn’t in the mood to be wrong. Maybe in another day or two. She’d have to think about it.

  “There’s one thing I know for sure,” Brant said. “You’ve certainly got a fiery Latin temper.”

  “I can be fiery without taking after my father,” she retorted.

  “True, but it does explain some things.” Brant leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “You realize that the matter of Che Lopez is only part of why I’m here. Our business won’t really be concluded until we’ve settled things between us.”

  “I might need a new twenty minutes to discuss that.”

  “I’m prepared to give it to you.”

  “It’s actually quite simple, really. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are—if you intend to marry a girl, you don’t ask her to sit around and wait for a summer while you appear to court someone else. That was an unkind way to treat me, an unkind way to treat her, and if your father thought that was an honest way to do business, he was wrong too. I realize that more business deals are struck in dining rooms than in board rooms, but relationships should never be tampered with, and anyone who participates in it needs to be taught some manners.”

  Brant nodded. “I won’t tell you you’re right because I’ve already said it so many times—”

  “No, go ahead. It’s entirely justified here.”

  “You’re right. I was being foolish because I saw the chance for me to excel in my father’s company, and I didn’t realize how I was hurting my chances with you.” He chuckled, but without humor. “Strangely enough, I thought that if I endeared myself to my father, I could use that position to afford a home for the two of us, and I’d be able to start courting you in earnest.”

  “Ignoring me for a summer so you could buy me a home . . .” Mariposa shook her head. “Oh, gracious, Brant. Where was your logic that day?”

  “I have no idea, but clearly, not where it should have been.”

  The door opened, and Ellen stepped onto the porch. “I’m sorry—I can see this is a private conversation, but I thought I’d let you know that dinner’s ready.”

  “Thank you, Miss Granger,” Brant said. Then he turned back to Mariposa. “You still have a few minutes. Do you want to use them up now, or should we pause and resume later?”

  “Let’s resume later. Church always makes me hungry, and there’s a roast today.”

  As they ate, Mariposa studied Brant. He’d wanted to buy her a house. He’d wanted to court her. Such nice, noble things . . . alongs
ide such a mistake. She wanted to be less judgmental and more forgiving, but this just seemed like too much. If he knew so little about relationships that he couldn’t understand where he’d gone wrong, could she trust him with her heart in the future? Would he learn anything from this experience, or would he keep bumbling around, trying to figure it out?

  So many reasons why it was easier not to get involved . . . and yet so many lonely days and nights because of it.

  Her thoughts rippled back to what he’d said about perfect parents. She didn’t think she was being unreasonable—gracious. How many children should be raised by gunslinging professional gamblers? But she wondered if she was being unrealistic in her expectations of a relationship. Was she being too hard on Brant for making the decision she did?

  No, definitely not. How many young ladies should become engaged to men who pretended to court someone else?

  “Mariposa, I’m guessing that you invited Brant here because you’ve made up your mind,” Ellen said. “Are you ready to share your decision?”

  “I thought I was, but now I’m not sure,” Mariposa replied. “Every time I think about it, I get more confused.”

  “Maybe it’s time to stop thinking and to follow your heart instead.” Ellen didn’t look up as she buttered a slice of bread. Mariposa’s heart went out to her aunt. This must be so difficult for her—giving Mariposa full rein in this decision and then stepping back. But just as Mariposa had to grow and take on adult responsibilities, Ellen had to let her—otherwise, neither would become what they were supposed to be.

  “I’ll have my decision made by tomorrow morning,” Mariposa said. “I know everyone’s eager for my answer, and I don’t mean to drag it out.”

  “It’s important for you to take the time you need, but yes, I’ll admit that I’m feeling a bit anxious,” Ellen replied.

  Brant didn’t say anything, but continued chewing. Mariposa wanted to hear his thoughts, but she could wait until he’d swallowed.

  After dinner, he asked if they could go for a walk, and Mariposa consented. There were so many nooks and crannies of this town to explore, so much to discover. The businesses were closed as it was a Sunday evening, but she enjoyed reading the signs and orienting herself with the locations of the different shops.