Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Look at her!” Anton yelled, pointing his finger at Posey, rage glistening in his eyes. “She’s a daft freak!” He leaned over their father’s slender form. “And she’s fucking an employee’s son, did you know that?”
Posey’s cheeks filled with heat. “I’ve merely kissed him,” she said, her voice as weak as her ailing father’s.
Her father turned his hand in hers and gripped her gently. “Good,” he said. “Kiss as many boys as you wish, Posey Pose. Dance with them too. I should have danced more often.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’ve made my decision. Leave now, Anton. Be well.”
Anton’s face was bright red, and he was vibrating with anger. He gave Posey one last hate-filled glare and then stalked from the room.
Posey picked up the book on her father’s nightstand that she’d been reading to him in the evenings. They were only on chapter eight. She opened to her bookmark, her voice small as she began to speak, throat ever more clogged with that growing lump.
Her father reached for her hand again, and she took it, cradling it gently as she continued to read. Her father ceased breathing long before the story was over, and yet Posey finished it all the same. “The end,” she whispered. She put her cheek on her father’s chest, and then for the first time in her life that she could remember, Posey wept.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“This is where you work?” Cyrus asked as they got out of Cami’s car, and he looked around. Cami smiled, using her hand as a visor to see the space through his eyes. Flutterfly Gardens looked particularly beautiful today, even if she was biased. It didn’t hurt that it was the golden hour, the sky a swirl of blue and white and gilded at the edges. But even beyond that, the vibrant, blooming plants were full and lush, the decades-old trees swished softly in the breeze, and the shop down the brick path looked sweet and quaint with its striped awning and red shutters.
Pride filled her chest. She loved what she’d built. She’d done this. She hadn’t let anything or anyone stop her, even herself, despite the fact that she’d considered giving up so many times. And even though she’d felt like life might not be worth living more often than she wanted to admit. How could she know she’d make it to this place, standing next to this little boy? A boy who’d known too much tragedy for such a young person. Her boy. And yet here she was. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the butterflies.”
They spent half an hour roaming through the exhibit, where others were strolling too. Cyrus was enthralled by each new species and thrilled whenever one landed on his hand. Cami watched him dreamily as he brought them close to his face, his eyes alight with happiness, smiling over at her as they flew away. And like a butterfly, she saw him emerging from the temporary shell he’d gone into too. How are you real? How are you here, with me? And would she ever stop feeling this way? Would she ever cease wondering when she might wake up and find that this was all just an elaborate dream?
He’d put the book Rex had given him under his arm while he held the butterflies, and now he grasped the well-worn paperback in his hand. Even his phone seemed to offer him less assurance. That was stuffed in his back pocket, a secondary comfort. He carried the book everywhere, like it was a security blanket. And that’s what it represented, she supposed. A link both to the man who’d raised him, and the one in the park who’d taken him under his wing when he was alone and frightened. And now, to Rex.
Cyrus had spent quality time with her dad, too, and her dad told her they’d had some good “man-to-man” conversations. Cami also knew he’d enjoyed baking with Gigi, and she was grateful for every person in his life now contributing to his comfort and care. Cami had motherhood to offer, and she was going to do everything she could to be a good one, but she also possessed butterflies, and she was well acquainted with their healing power.
They walked to the gift shop, where Bess let out a small shriek and then practically threw herself at Cami. “You’re back! I’ve missed you.” She turned to Cyrus and slapped her hand over her mouth as she glanced at Cami. “My gosh, you both have the exact same eyes.”
Cyrus looked up at Cami. “Told you.”
Bess held out her hand, and Cyrus shook it. “Hi, Cyrus. I’m Bess. And I have something for you. Come with me.”
Cami watched Cyrus follow her to where Cami could see one of the terrariums she’d designed on the counter, full with flowers and greenery and, she assumed, at least a few butterfly eggs. Cyrus oohed and aahed as he leaned toward the glass and looked to where Bess was pointing out this or that. Cami felt a small catch in her chest. Bess was already acting as a surrogate aunt to her son, a role that Elle would have had, and she suddenly missed her sister so desperately it stole her breath. Grief was so odd that way, sneaking up when you least expected it and knocking you sideways. And yet, something inside her was grateful for the strength of the emotional punch because it was also a reminder that her love for her sister hadn’t faded, and it never would. It’d just change and transform as the years moved on, but she’d bring her sister with her, noting her absence in big ways and small the rest of her days. And she wouldn’t wish that away, even if it hurt.