House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  He kept a stone face through most of their conversation, but their spark was too obvious to ignore.

  Claire shrugged, thinking she was acting silly.

  Oh, please. What were the odds of her bumping into him again?

  She was busy and had a lot on her mind.

  She needed to deal with what she’d been seeing inside the house.

  She turned her gaze to the polygonal tower and tried to process what was happening in there.

  She gripped the steering wheel of her parked car, part of her dreading going in and unpacking and another part of her wondering why she was having visions of her deceased brother and what he was trying to tell her.

  This was insane. Her brother was dead. Most of her family were now dead. She was not the type to believe in paranormal nonsense.

  She picked up her phone from the front seat and swiped through the pictures she took the day before.

  Her hands became slippery from sweat because there was no denying the face in the window.

  It looked like fog, but the tiny head and the empty eyes were not a trick of the light.

  No. This can’t be. This can’t be happening, she thought.

  “Dig.”

  What did that even mean?

  Claire knew she needed to find more answers. Was David’s appearance part of her subconscious mind or was it his real spirit? She would need to determine that soon so she didn’t drive herself insane over it.

  For some reason, she felt she should take the brooch everywhere she went. She couldn’t explain the need, but it was important, she could feel it within the depths of her soul.

  Claire swallowed and exited her car. She needed help with cleaning this place, and while she was on the road, she contacted Rose’s cleaning and landscaping company.

  George told her that May and Bishop Watson were trusted employees of Rose when the house was too overwhelming to keep clean on her own.

  They were her cleaning lady and landscaper for seven years before Rose passed away and when Claire called the number she talked to May for a few minutes.

  May told her they had time in their schedule this afternoon and they would be happy to stop by and give her new estimates.

  Claire looked forward to the visit. She admitted this huge house was lonely already, and she’d only been here one day.

  Claire made her way up the steps and dreaded opening the front door.

  She wiped the sweat from her hands onto her leggings and cursed her cowardly responses. What was she worried about? She had a dream about her brother. That vision of him in the mirror was her imagination running wild.

  It had to be memories catching up to her, she tried to convince herself. Moving back to her early childhood home set her sub-conscious into overdrive. Her brother was only her mind playing strange tricks on her.

  That didn’t explain the picture she took with her camera, her logical mind argued. The ghostly figure was more than a trick of the sun.

  She hesitated to put the key in the lock and stood there for a long time trying to remember what happened to her brother and the time she lived here.

  She turned and walked around the wrap around porch, a cool breeze making her feel better as she gazed inside the house and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

  Claire turned her gaze over the two-acre property.

  Her mind wandered for a few minutes as she enjoyed the nice weather.

  “Look! Butterflies!” The little girl squealed.

  Claire and David ran off the porch, ignoring their grandmother’s voice telling them to be careful.

  Instead, the two young children ran into the yard, giggling as they chased the different species flying around them. Each of one of them a different color of the rainbow as they tried to land on either a blade of grass or a wildflower sprouting from the dirt.

  David became frustrated when he couldn’t catch one and Claire laughed at him.

  “You’re not supposed to catch them, silly.”

  “We catch the light bugs,” David said with a pout.

  “I think you mean lightning bugs,” Claire corrected with a laugh. “They are slower that’s why.”

  The children ran around the yard playing when Rose walked up to them.

  She kneeled next to David and put something in his hand. “This one you can always catch.” Then she reassured her grandson that he’ll run fast as he grows older.

  Claire listened to her grandmother’s words as she picked the wildflowers nearby. She hoped one day she could run as fast as the wind and run away from the evil living in the house with them.

  “This will always be your butterfly. I want you to take good care of it,” Rose said ruffling the little boy’s curly hair.

  “Now, go show your sister,” Rose ordered.

  Claire saw the look of excitement on David’s face when he ran over to her to show her the golden butterfly Rose gave him.

  “Mom-mom said this one won’t leave me,” David gushed.

  Claire thought the butterfly was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  The gold and diamonds sparkled in the sunlight. It was bigger than David’s hand, but he never dropped it as they continued to play the rest of the afternoon. Claire showed him how to place it safely in his pocket so he wouldn’t lose it.

  Claire looked up from their spot in the grass and the feeling of dread came over her.

  She hated this time of the day. It was time for that person to come home. She wished that person would leave the house. All three of them were always so much happier when they weren’t around.

  She watched her grandmother walk to the porch to greet that mean person and heard them talking in hushed, but angry voices.

  Claire turned away and stood in front of her brother on purpose.

  She couldn’t see the person’s face.

  Claire came out of her trance and had to catch her breath realizing they were coming out fast and shallow.

  Her heart was pounding against her chest as the memory of a time she was playing with her brother in this very yard came flooding back to her.

  She looked down and realized she was holding the same golden butterfly brooch in her hand.

  Claire had to lean against the railing and closed her eyes, trying to calm her emotions.

  She gripped the butterfly in her hand, the metal digging into her skin, but she didn’t care.

  This brooch was one connection to her brother.

  If she saw David’s spirit, this was why.

  She placed her fist against her mouth and bit back a sob.

  She walked around the back of the house to see the path where David took his final steps.

  Claire gazed into the forest once she was standing in the backyard.

  She could see it now. Clearly. It was only a few yards in front of her.

  What had possessed her brother to wander so far from the house and to the river?

  Claire had to turn back before she collapsed into a sobbing mess.

  The reality of her former home was hitting her squarely in the chest. Each blow giving her more memories of around the time she lost her brother.

  She lost her family. Her entire family. Tragically, senselessly. Her parents died in a car crash, her brother from accidental drowning.

  She was the only one left. The only Westcott alive.

  The burden of her reality dropped onto her shoulders like a boulder.

  It was only her. Claire Westcott.

  Claire knew she needed to get a grip. She forced her lungs to take deep, calming breaths as her emotional state returned to normal.

  But, her mood didn’t change. She was still mourning the family she lost when she went inside the house, changed into sweats and placed the brooch on her dresser inside her new room.

  Her eyes kept darting into each shadowy corner, expecting the apparition of her brother to appear at any moment.

  He didn’t appear.

  At least, not right now.

  Claire ate in the living roo
m while she watched more of the gospel channel.

  She found the singing was comforting with the upheaval in her world. The voices of the choir were almost angelic as the words they sang about finding comfort with The Lord and Savior.

  She didn’t want to, but she had to tear herself away from the television and get some work done.

  She threw out her sandwich wrapper and lugged suitcases and boxes upstairs.

  She stayed as quiet as she could so she would hear May and Bishop ring the bell. Hell, she didn’t even know if the doorbell worked.

  Claire hung up some clothes, but most needed washing, and after three attempts she figured out how the washer and dryer worked.

  She chuckled thinking how exasperating they were to figure out. What happened to just an “on” button? Sheesh.

  After her clothes were being washed, she went back to her room and unpacked more of her things, and set up the room to match her personality.

  She discovered the closet could hold more clothes than she would ever need.

  As she was putting her things away, Claire could feel eyes on her. She would turn around every so often thinking something might appear behind her, but nothing was there.

  Her internal debates were raging. Was it real or an overactive imagination? Was she being paranoid?

  She needed to stop this. She would drive herself crazy from these thoughts.

  She forced herself to get back to work when she heard the doorbell ring.

  She made a face and then laughed at the sound. Taking out her phone, she noted to have the doorbell fixed soon. It sounded like horrible Christmas music from an old broken record.

  Her eyes still darting into rooms—especially David’s room—as she walked through the hallway and down the stairs, Claire walked down the stairs in peace.

  She opened the door to find Bishop and May Walton waiting for her to answer.

  May smiled a bright toothy smile. She looked to be in her late forties with her hair pulled back into a ponytail that consisted of curls. Her skin was a smooth and dark coffee color. Her nails looked perfectly manicured, and she pushed thick glasses up her nose.

  She wore a bright pink T-shirt underneath a jacket with their landscaping company embroidered on the upper left side.

  Bishop smiled more cautiously but looked as friendly as his wife. His face and hands were weathered from so many years of working outside, although he couldn’t have been more than in his early fifties.

  He wore the same jacket as May, but a baseball cap with the company logo sat on his head with only a peek of gray hair sticking out.

  “Miss Westcott?” May asked.

  “Hi,” Claire said extending her hand to the couple in greeting. “Call me Claire.”

  “I’m May, and this is my husband, Bishop,” May said taking her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Claire shook Bishop’s hand and stepped back from the door so the couple could enter.

  The first observation Claire had as they chatted in the foyer was May’s familiarity with the house.

  Her eyes were immediately scanning for dust in each room, and Claire could tell she knew almost every corner of the house.

  Bishop spoke to Claire about the landscaping saying that Rose liked to keep it simple so he was not here as often as May.

  “I thought I could tackle this beast by myself, but…” Claire trailed off with a smile.

  “It hasn’t been touched in months,” May commented. “You’ll need help.”

  May said she came only once a month since cleaning this house was a two-day job when her daughter or other staff wasn’t available to help her.

  Claire led the couple into the kitchen to sit at the island since it would be easier than hosting them in the parlor.

  That was fine with them. “After Rose had the kitchen remodeled, it was my favorite place to clean,” May said.

  “Yeah… well… no one cleaned out the refrigerator,” Claire said.

  May’s eyes widened and then she made a face in disgust. “Oh, no.” She went to open the door, but Claire stopped her.

  “You don’t want to do that,” Claire said. “That’s my plan for tomorrow. I’m going to pick up supplies tonight and tackle it tomorrow.”

  “I told George that needed to be done, but he was too worried about contacting you,” May commented.

  Claire felt a pang of guilt run through her. She’d been feeling it since she moved in.

  She didn’t know Rose was alive, and she certainly didn’t know until months later about her passing.

  She would have flown right down if she knew.

  Claire sat down at the bar with May and Bishop.

  “I’d offer you something, but as you can tell…”

  Bishop shrugged. “No problem.”

  Claire found as she talked to the couple she liked them more and more with passing moment. It was obvious they cared about Rose and were devastated by her passing.

  Claire tried to hide her guilt. She couldn’t even imagine what these people must think of her.

  Greedy, selfish, no good granddaughter?

  But, that wasn’t true.

  May caught Claire’s look and asked, “Miss Claire is something wrong?”

  Claire opened her mouth to answer, but the words were lost on her. How did she explain her appearance now?

  “No. Next week would be perfect,” Claire said in a solemn voice. Her attempt to sound cheery failed.

  Claire could tell May didn’t believe her. Finally, she blurted it all out.

  “I don’t know what you think of me, but I didn’t know Rose was alive until George Stallings contacted me,” Claire said. “It’s obvious you were friends with my grandmother.”

  May and Bishop blinked for a few minutes. Then May smiled sympathetically.

  She and Bishop exchanged looks and May turned to Claire and said, “We don’t know the whole story, Miss Claire, but when I asked Rose once if she had any family, she brought out your books.”

  May smiled at the memory. “She was so proud of you and how much you accomplished.”

  Claire looked up and finally met the couple’s eyes. “What did she say? Anything? Anything at all?”

  May leaned over the island in thought and then spoke. “It took a long time for Miss Rose to trust us enough to talk to us. There were things she didn’t like to talk about, and things she said she would never recover from.”

  May then looked at Claire. “She said she sent you away because she couldn’t handle caring for you after your brother died. She was drowning in her grief and didn’t want you raised in like that.”

  “Yeah, but there was never any contact,” Claire said.

  May nodded. “She confessed that to me one day. I asked her why, she said you were better off, but you’d be back one day and here you are.”

  “Miss May, what else did you know about her?” Claire asked, her curiosity now taking over from her earlier shame.

  May laughed and Bishop grinned. “She was particular. What she wanted was what she wanted. I saw her make a delivery man cry one day,” Bishop said with a chuckle.

  “Big ole man and that woman made him tear right up. I never saw a man run so fast as he did when an order of hers was wrong.”

  “Damn,” Claire laughed.

  May nodded enthusiastically. “She tried to get me a few times. Trust me, she tried my patience, but when she stopped hovering over me and let me do my job, we started to get on better.”

  “How so?”

  “When Rose said you were having lunch, you were having lunch,” Bishop said. “She always fed all my employees, and no matter what time it was, she made us stop workin’ to eat.”

  “She was good that way,” May said.

  “But, if she wanted something specific, boy you better listen,” May continued with a smile.

  Claire adjusted in her seat, absorbing the words of the couple who worked for Rose for so many years.

  “Did you have full access to the house and p
roperty?” Claire asked.

  “After a while, Rose pretty much let me go wherever I wanted to do my job,” May said.

  She put a finger to her chin and then glanced at the basement door and shivered.

  Claire followed her gaze and asked, “What?”

  May’s eyes flickered and she shivered again. “I know this house is very old and has a history.”

  Claire nodded in agreement.

  “I mistakenly opened the door one day to the basement,” May explained. “Miss Rose said the basement was off limits because the steps needed serious repair and she hadn’t gotten around to it yet…”

  May laughed uncomfortably. Claire knew she was struggling to find the words to tell Claire.

  “Miss Claire, I don’t know if I was going crazy that day or what, but when I opened the door I swear there was someone looking up at me,” May said. “I’ve worked in this house for a long time but never had any bad feelings about it before that day.”

  Claire leaned forward. She crossed her fingers and set her hands firmly on the countertop trying to hide the fact that they were shaking.

  “What did you see?”

  “Nothing,” May said. “It was dark and creepy, but I knew something was watching me. Then Miss Rose came and shut the door while I was standing there looking down.”

  Claire sat back not knowing how to take May’s words.

  “I never opened that door again, but I did see Miss Rose come out of there one day,” May explained, her eyes narrowing. “I thought she said the steps were broken.”

  “That’s weird,” Claire said glancing at the door. “She could have fallen and broken a bone or something.”

  “It was weird, but I didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell. I just did my job like she wanted,” May said.

  Claire nodded in agreement.

  “She talked about your mama all the time,” Bishop piped in.

  Claire’s face softened. “Did she?”

  “Then when your first book arrived, she was glowing brighter than the sun,” May said and then laughed. “She shoved a copy into my hands and told me to read it. I’ve read every single book of yours.”

  Claire blushed. She never felt comfortable talking about her books in person.