by Lisa Moreau
Table of Contents
Synopsis
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
The Butterfly Whisperer
Some soul mates can never be forgotten.
Jordan was in love with her best friend, Sophie, in high school and no one knew…least of all Sophie. After fleeing without a trace before graduation, Jordan vowed never to return to Monarch, the butterfly obsessed town along the Central California coast.
Ten years later, Jordan owns a successful soul mate matchmaking company where she finds love for others, but has little use for it herself. Sophie runs the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary and has yet to forgive Jordan for disappearing from her life. When Jordan is forced to return to Monarch, will their soul mate connection deepen or will differing goals tear them apart?
The Butterfly Whisperer
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The Butterfly Whisperer
© 2017 By Lisa Moreau. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-792-7
This Electronic book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.,
P.O. Box 249
New York, USA
First Edition: January 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design by Melody Pond
By the Author
Love On The Red Rocks
The Butterfly Whisperer
Acknowledgments
This past year I had the pleasure of meeting Radclyffe, Bold Strokes Books (BSB) publisher; and Sandy Lowe, BSB Senior Editor, at the GCLS Conference in DC. The first thing I did after arriving at the conference was hunt down Rad (I can call her that since we took a selfie together, which I’m pretty sure means we’re BFFs). I thanked her for giving my stories a home and an outlet to reach more people than I ever thought possible. Even though I accosted her early one morning at the coffee machine, she took time to chat with me. She expressed a genuine interest in my experience as a new BSB author, and I was happy to report that it’s been amazing and that I love being a part of her incredible publishing company. The next thing I did was track down Sandy, who―despite the disappointing absence of a highly anticipated Australian accent―is very impressive. I probably didn’t properly relay this to her, but she does an incredible job and is a joy to work with. Her input and suggestions on my book proposal made it a better, stronger story. When Sandy speaks, I listen. She knows what works, what doesn’t, and is pretty darn sharp.
It was a pleasure to work with Shelley Thrasher, editor extraordinaire, again. I’ll let you in on a little secret: Shelley makes me look and sound a hundred times better than I actually am, and if it weren’t for her I have no doubt I’d be known as the Cliché Queen. Shelley, it might not be evident, but I’ve learned a great deal from your line edits and hopefully, the next manuscript will be less bloody.
One of the most gratifying, unanticipated experiences of being published is all the new author friends I’ve made. The most creative, talented, witty, intelligent women have crossed my path since my first book was released. There are too many people to name, but you know who you are. Thank you for your encouragement, advice, humor, and support. Several of you took this new, clueless author under your wing and showed me the ropes, and for that, I’m very grateful. Hopefully, one day I can pay it forward with another newbie BSB writer.
Thanks to my big sis, Carla, and niece, Sasha, for your continued friendship, love, and support. You two are the first people I think about contacting when anything big, small, good, or not-so-good happens to me. A lot of our loved ones have crossed over, but I’m thankful that we have each other.
To the readers of my first book, Love On The Red Rocks: thank you for the book reviews, connecting with me on social media, and sending personal emails. Your feedback and support means a lot. Keep it coming!
For all the soul mates who have lost and found each other again.
You lucky dogs.
“If nothing ever changed there’d be no butterflies.”
—Anonymous
Prologue
The Big One
New Year’s Eve, 1999
It became known as the turn-of-the-century earthquake. For years afterward, no one within a hundred-mile radius of Monarch, a speck of a town along the Central California coast, could last two minutes when first meeting someone without asking, “Where were you when the big one hit?” To them, the earthquake was what they’d come to remember about that New Year’s Eve, but to Jordan Lee, it marked the last day she ever saw Sophie.
“Meet me at our tree in fifteen minutes.” Jordan gripped her cell phone and pressed it hard against her ear.
“Where are you!? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” Fear tinged Sophie’s voice.
“Please. Just meet me in fifteen minutes.” Jordan disconnected before Sophie could protest. She threw the phone into the passenger seat and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. This was by far the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. A lump formed in her throat as tears threatened. She couldn’t start crying now. She’d never stop.
Jordan grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment and headed down the trail along a sixty-foot cliff overlooking the ocean. She and Sophie walked this path often on their way to the butterfly grove. A full moon shone brightly in the indigo sky when Jordan stopped at the edge of the bluff. The beautiful night was almost too perfect, given the circumstances. The sound of crashing waves and squawking seagulls filled the air. She breathed in the scent of sea salt and stared at the moon’s reflection in the dark-teal waters below. If Sophie were there she’d say, “When you whisper a wish to a butterfly under a full moon, the great Native American spirit is sure to grant it.”
If only that were true.
Jordan peeled her gaze away and quickened her pace down a side trail that led from the bluff to the eucalyptus forest. She wanted to see something before Sophie arrived. Three butterflies circled her head before flying in front, as though leading the way.
Jordan followed until she reached a towering tree, which stood in the center of the grove. Thousands of orange-and-black monarchs huddled on the branches, making it look more like an orange blossom than a eucalyptus. She squatted beside the tree and traced her fingertips over the initials SOS. Sophie Opal Sanders. After days of pleading, Sophie had finally agreed to carve their initials into the tree. She said it was like slapping Mother Nature in the face and they’d probably go to hell for it, but she did like the idea of immortalizing their friendship in her favorite tree. So she’d compromised and said they could do it on the bottom of the trunk, where no one would notice. That was three years earlier, when they were fifteen.
Jordan sat on the ground with her back against the smooth bark, her face buried in her raised knees.
“Are you okay?” A melodic voice prompted Jordan to lift her head to a shining face looking down at her. She’d always teased Sophie that she looked like a Disney Princess, with golden hair, expressive blue eyes, and heart-shaped face. Jordan wouldn’t have been surprised if squirrels and birds carried on a conversation with her, just like in a fairy tale. When Sophie squatted and rested her hand on Jordan’s arm, warm tingles cascaded through her body. Abruptly, Jordan stood and took several steps back. She couldn’t be that close to Sophie and say what needed to be said. Sophie stood as well, concern etched on her face.
“I need to tell you something.” Jordan winced at the quiver in her voice. She cleared her throat and willed a commanding tone. “I’m leaving. Tonight.”
“What are you talking about? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to live with my mother in New York.”
“What?! That’s crazy. We’re graduating in four months. You haven’t seen your mother since you were ten.”
“Try to understand. And please, please don’t ask me why.” Jordan stared at the ground, unable to look in Sophie’s eyes.
“This is insane. What does your father―”
Thousands of flapping butterfly wings interrupted as the sky filled with orange and black. A sharp jolt shook the earth and knocked them both to the ground. Jordan covered Sophie’s body as the land violently trembled and rolled. Falling branches scraped her face, and a heavy object pounded her back. She resisted the urge to cover her head with her hands. It was more important that Sophie be safe. The shaking probably lasted only thirty seconds, but it felt like an hour. When the earth’s vibrations subsided, they both sat up in a rubble of leaves and branches, Sophie still entwined in Jordan’s arms.
“What…what was that?” Sophie asked breathlessly.
“I…I think an earthquake…a big one. Are you okay?” Jordan was shocked by the sudden tremor, but even more shocked that Sophie was in her arms. This was the closest they’d ever been.
“I think so. Are you? Your face is scratched.” Jordan’s breath hitched as Sophie grazed her cheek. “Does it hurt?”
Jordan gulped and managed to shake her head, silently praying Sophie wouldn’t stop stroking her wounds.
“Oh, my gosh. The butterflies.” Sophie lifted a large branch, which revealed several lifeless monarchs underneath. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “They’re dead.”
Jordan’s heart melted. Not for the butterflies, but for Sophie. “Look at all the ones that survived, Soph. Like the little guy that just landed on your head.”
Sophie grinned through a sob. “Really? One is on my head?”
“Yeah, and he looks comfy up there.”
“You always know how to make me feel better.”
Jordan stiffened as Sophie scooted closer and rested her cheek on her shoulder. It would have been so easy to lean down and kiss the tip of her nose, then her lips. As though reading her mind, Sophie bolted upright and backed away.
“What were you saying before? About leaving?” Uncertainty clouded Sophie’s blue eyes.
Jordan stood on shaky limbs and steadied herself with a hand on the tree. Sophie stood as well, careful not to step on any butterflies.
“If you hear anything, if anyone says something, just remember that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
“What are you talking about? Sorry for what?” Sophie reached for Jordan’s hand, but she pulled away.
“I have to go.” Jordan took several steps back. She couldn’t explain. If Sophie knew the truth, she’d hate her. Just like her father did.
“Why are you doing this?” Tears brimmed in Sophie’s eyes.
A sharp stab ripped through Jordan’s gut. She hated being the cause of Sophie’s sadness. Without another word, she turned and ran down the trail. Sophie’s screams echoed through the forest, like a wounded animal in pain, each cry an arrow through Jordan’s heart. She ran as fast as she could, stopping only when she reached the edge of the grove. Burning tears threatened as her heart pounded.
If this is what love does to you, I want no part of it ever again.
Fear welled within Jordan as the earth shook beneath her again. It was an aftershock, not a strong one, but enough to remind her of the earthquake. What was she thinking? She shouldn’t have left Sophie alone. Jordan rushed back into the forest, relieved to find her sitting under the tree. She hid behind a bush until Sophie got up and walked down the trail. Jordan followed until Sophie was home safe, where she collapsed, sobbing, into her aunt Helen’s arms.
As Jordan watched Sophie from afar, her head felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode. The muffled, rapid pounding in her ears mimicked her heartbeat, and she felt light-headed. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but it was like someone had sucked all the energy out of her body; her arms went limp, and her knees buckled. Then she saw spots, right before everything went completely black.
Chapter One
Be Careful What You Wish For
Ten Years Later
Jordan was immediately suspicious. Doug invited her to Le Papillon only when he had bad news. In the dark, discreet restaurant, everyone talked in whispers and rarely caused a scene.
“Why not Frank’s Deli?” Jordan inched down Beverly Boulevard and chatted with Doug on her cell phone.
“It’s too noisy.”
“That’s why I like it.”
Le Papillon―French for “the butterfly,” though they spelled it Papillion―always reminded Jordan of Sophie, which left her feeling melancholy. Plus, it was a little creepy that the table centerpieces contained live yellow butterflies in clear-glass containers. Who wanted to stare at an insect while stuffing filet mignon down their throat? Wasn’t there a People for the Ethical Treatment of Butterflies group? Not that Jordan cared one way or another, but she was surprised no one picketed the place.
Jordan slammed on her brakes and honked long and hard at a Hummer that cut her off. “Asshole!”
“Jordan? You still there? Le Papillon. Noon.” Doug disconnected before she could protest.
“Asshole.” Jordan wasn’t sure if she was referring to the Hummer or Doug. Who was she kidding? She loved Doug. He was her BFF / business partner / gay wardrobe consultant / amateur psychotherapist. Pathetic to say, but Doug was her only real friend. She didn’t know where she’d be without him. They’d met in New York ten years ago at a community college and immediately hit it off. Several years later, they moved to Beverly Hills to start Soul Mate Outreach Solutions, better known as SOS, a matchmaking company. They’d hit it big after an Oscar-winning actress’s endorsement and become known as matchmakers to the stars, even scoring an interview with Ophelia, the most influential talk-show host in town. Their long-term success rate was impressive, considering Hollywood couples stayed together as long as it took ice cream to melt on a sunny Southern California day.
Traffic was at a complete standstill. Jordan craned her neck but couldn’t see beyond the bumper-to-bumper cars. LA traffic sucked. It could literally take forty-five minutes to drive four miles, mostly because of the brigade of tourists clogging lanes looking for stars’ homes. Jordan usually didn’t like bumper stickers but couldn’t resist
the one she’d slapped on the back of her Jaguar that read, Welcome to Los Angeles. Now go home.
Sighing dramatically, she glanced at a hairy beast in the SUV next to her. His ears perked up, and he barked once in a deep baritone. Jordan had a feeling he was trying to tell her something, but the hell if she knew what it was. Not that she’d admit it, but her heart melted a little when he looked at her with sad, brown eyes. He was actually pretty cute, in a woolly mammoth sort of way. On rare occasions, she considered getting a dog, one to protect her from robbers and fetch the paper every morning. Dogs did that, right? Or was that only Lassie? Anyway, the dog idea was always short-lived. It was too much of a commitment.
After what felt like forever, traffic finally started moving. Instead of coming upon a wreck or some other plausible cause of the backup, Jordan saw something that made her want to laugh and cry all at the same time. Two lanes were closed on an ultra-busy street because palm trees were being planted in the median. Seriously? The last thing LA needed was more freaking palm trees. They needed open lanes of traffic!
A familiar, strange sensation swept through Jordan as she broke out in a cold sweat. She felt weak and shaky, her head spinning like a merry-go-round. Dread weighed her down as she gripped the steering wheel. Not now. Not here. God, please don’t let me see black spots. The last thing she needed was to be in a wreck. Jordan pulled to the side of the road and took deep breaths in an attempt to slow her racing heart. She didn’t have time for this. She had places to be, things to do. After a few minutes of sitting quietly, she was back on the road, thankful she hadn’t fainted…this time.
