The Butterfly’s Daughter (26 page)

“No, it's not selfish. You're just trying to find out who you are. That doesn't mean that Sully is a bad guy and doesn't want what's right for you, either. It's just sometimes you need to figure that out on your own.”

A scuttling noise drew their attention to the gravel walkway that led to their campsite. Stacie was walking up, lugging her enormous purple bag over her shoulder. When she reached their campsite she dropped it with a heavy sigh of relief. She put her hand on her hip and surveyed the two women huddled by the fire in close conversation.

“What's the matter, you two? Did someone die? You look like a coven of witches by the fire there.”

Margaret patted Luz's arm, rose, and stretched her arms. “No one died,” she replied. “But we could use a glass of wine. You brought the corkscrew, I hope?”

Stacie dug into her purse and handed the simple, dollar-store-variety corkscrew to Margaret. “I couldn't find mine so I borrowed this one from the boys. And
this
!” Stacie moved her hand from behind her back, proudly waving a bottle of rum. “They've got so many they'll never miss it.”

Margaret grabbed the bottle of white and peeled off the foil. Then with finesse, she quickly uncorked the bottle, poured liberal amounts of wine into the plastic Solo cups, and handed one to each of the girls.

“To sum up,” Margaret began, “Luz's boyfriend is worried about her and wants her to come home. She needed to check in with him but isn't sure how she feels about that.” She glanced at Luz. “Did I get it right?”

Luz nodded with a smirk.

“Girl,” Stacie said, holding out her cup like a pointed finger. “You're too young to be worried about checkin' in with some guy. Unless he's your husband. And even then it don't really matter if you're with your girlfriends. You got to keep your priorities straight. Right now you don't need to be worrying about nothing but number one. So here, let's drink our wine and eat some of this gourmet peanut butter and liven it up around here. I brought some music and I feel like howlin' at the moon.”

The scent of cold ashes permeated the frosty air. Luz could smell them in her hair and taste them in her mouth. Their tent billowed in the wind, making flapping noises like a wet sheet. She shivered and burrowed deeper in the sleeping bag. It had rained during the night. She didn't hear it but felt the moisture in the air, and the dampness stained the edges of their tent.

Prying open a sandy eye, she saw Margaret cuddled beside her, her pale hair strewn against the pillow and her thin lips pursed open as a guttural, unladylike snoring bellowed out. Beside her, Stacie lay facedown on a rolled-up towel. Luz rose slowly, her head pounding from too much alcohol and too little food. She managed to sit cross-legged, shivering in the chilly morning air. Serena grumbled at having had the warmth of the sleeping bag removed and curled tighter in her ball. Luz put her fingertips to
her throbbing temples as she struggled to recollect last night's campfire party.

She didn't remember ever seeing the bottom of her cup, there was always somebody pouring. There was a lot of dancing, too. A soft chuckle escaped her and she looked again at Margaret. She was still wearing Stacie's rhinestone jacket. At one point Margaret had put on Stacie's jacket and stood up, belting out lyrics to a Widespread Panic song that Stacie had taught her.

A muffled groan sounded as Margaret slowly opened her eyes.

“Well, if it isn't the dancing queen,” Luz said.

“My mouth tastes like ashes.”

“That's because it
is
ashes. The fire went out.”

“Now I know why I'm freezing!” Margaret pulled the sleeping bag back up over her shoulders.

“I'd kill for a cup of coffee. Do you think they'd have coffee at the front desk?” Luz asked hopefully.

“Don't mention eating or drinking,” Margaret moaned. She put her arm over her eyes, then moved it to peer out at Luz. “Dancing queen? Was I really that bad?”

“You were better.” She laughed and said teasingly, “The butterfly has emerged!”

Margaret brought her hand up to cover her face with another, louder groan.

“No, you were great!”

Margaret chuckled softly, then moaned again. “It hurts to laugh. Don't make me laugh.”

Luz fell back against her pillow like a dead weight.

“I had a good time last night,” Margaret said in a soft voice.

“Mmm . . .”

“No, I mean, I really had a good time. I've never danced like that.” She paused, then asked, “Do you have to be drunk to do that?”

“No. But it helps.”

“I'd hate to think I'd always have to get drunk to have a good time. 'Cause I don't think I care much for hangovers.”

“Nope.” Luz smacked her dry lips. “We need water. I'll bet they sell bottled water at the store. Maybe they'll have coffee, too. I'll go check it out.”

“Yes, you should.”

Neither woman rose.

They heard a loud sigh of exasperation as Stacie dragged herself up to her elbows.

“What a bunch of lightweights.
I'll
go. I got to pee anyway.” She rose easily, sans groaning. In fact, Luz thought she looked too darn perky as she reached up to redo her ponytail. She was wearing Margaret's wool peacoat, an interesting fashion statement with her cowboy boots. Stacie reached down to grab her leather bag.

“You girls think you can hold down the fort till I get back?”

After a hurried breakfast of coffee and peanut butter sandwiches, Luz took off on a walk with Serena while Margaret went in search of wildflowers to add to her observation notebook.

Serena trotted jauntily at Luz's side with her head down, sniffing exultantly. The day had begun cold and damp with a gray, overcast sky but the sun was struggling to break through the clouds. Luz relished the occasional shaft of light that sliced through the gray to shed a bit of warmth on her skin, like a gift. The night's rain had left several puddles in the rutted dirt road. They reflected the sudden bursts of sunlight to sparkle like Stacie's rhinestones.

Rounding a bend, she stopped abruptly with an intake of breath. Five monarchs clustered around a large puddle at the side of the road. Farther ahead, more groups congregated at several of the small black pools.

“There you are,” she breathed, coming to a halt. She'd wondered when she might see more butterflies. They'd probably roosted in these trees the night before and were just now coming out with the sun.

She knew that on sunny days after a rain, butterflies gathered around the edges of mud puddles to sip salts and minerals from the soil. It was called puddling, but Luz rarely saw it. Abuela used to leave a small dish in the garden to collect water, but more often Luz would spy a butterfly sipping a drop of water from a flower after a rain. Luz knew these butterflies would drink their fill, then pack it up, catch a warm breeze, and be on their way south.

As should she, Luz thought, and tugged at Serena's leash. Once again, the butterflies had given her the sign she needed. She felt filled with hope for the next leg of her journey. “Let's let them drink in peace,” she said to Serena, leading her away from the monarchs.

A short time later, she and Margaret were packing up the car when they heard a familiar, high-pitched voice calling to them. Serena barked with excitement and strained at the leash tethered to the picnic table.

“So,” Stacie said, sauntering close, her ever-present purple satchel hanging heavily from her side, overflowing with clothing. She bent to pet Serena, who was shivering with joy and licking her face. “You're taking off.”

“On the road again,” Luz replied, tossing the sleeping bag into the trunk.

Margaret emerged from the backseat with the pillow in her hand. Her face was still chalky from being hungover, but her slack jaw reflected her surprise to see Stacie again.

“You're headed to Texas, right?” Stacie asked.

“That's right. San Antonio.”

Stacie dropped her purse and absently scratched her chin with her fingernail. “I'm from Austin, you know.”

“Oh?” There was something pending in her tone that had Luz wondering what was coming.

“Sooooo,” Stacie said, and she held her hands together in a pleading, prayerlike gesture. “I was wondering if I could catch a ride with you girls.”

From the corner of her eye, Luz saw Margaret discreetly wave her hands and shake her head no.

“But, you said you're headed to L.A.,” Luz replied. “San Antonio isn't anywhere near L.A.”

“It's south, isn't it? And L.A. is in Southern California. At least I'm headed in the right direction. I've got all kinds of connections in Texas. I'm sure I can help you girls out.”

Luz was left to wonder if Stacie had ever really looked at a map of the United States. If she had, she'd know that if she went to San Antonio, she'd overshoot her mark. “Your plan doesn't make sense, Stacie. We're headed way out of your way.”

“Come on, Luz, let me tag along. Truth is, I don't want to ride with those guys anymore. They live like pigs and they're all horny as hell. I swear to God they don't have enough weed to make it worth my while. You'd be such a lifesaver. And I'd pay my way and help with gas. Please just take me a little ways so I can find me some new options. I can't get stuck here with those guys. I think us girls got on real good.”

Luz liked Stacie, with her exuberance and willingness to take whatever fate threw at her. Maybe both she and Margaret could stand to let a little of that rhinestone attitude rub off on them. Besides, how could she say no? In the end, they were all just following the call of Xochiquetzal.

“Sure,” she replied. Luz looked over to see Margaret slump against the car with her face in her hands. “We're taking off. You got everything you need?”

“I got everything I need right here,” Stacie said, lifting her enormous purple leather purse.

Texas is the funnel through which most migrating monarchs must pass on their way to their overwintering grounds in Mexico. Texas is also the first stop on their northward journey, when they seek out both nectar and host plants for eggs for the next generation. Thus, Texas is of critical importance in the migration of the monarch butterfly.

S
tacie took a turn at the wheel and drove with the assurance of a truck driver. “Honey, if you'd grown up on a ranch like I did, you'd learn two things before you can walk. First is how to ride a horse. Second is how to drive a tractor. Plus on the road, I've driven everything from an RV to a vintage Corvette. If it's got wheels and an engine, I can drive it.”

She knew the scenery, too, talking a mile a minute about anything and everything they passed. When they crossed the Red River into Texas, she honked the horn and let loose with a piercing whistle. “That's the Red River, baby!” she shouted, leaning on the horn. “Woowee! That's home!”

Luz wore an ear-to-ear grin and waved at the passing cars that honked back at them as they crossed the bridge. She'd really left the confines of her home state, she thought, giddy. She was seeing America!

Texas was a big state, however, and they had long hours of driving ahead of them. They made a pit stop for gas, to pee, and to grab a few candy bars, bottles of water, and a phone charger. Luz took the wheel back after cities and towns gave way once again to endless miles of flatness. It might have been dreary except that the roads were lined with countless wildflowers—goldenrod, Margaret informed them as she wrote in her notebook. When the wind gusted, it cascaded across the tall flowers like a wave rolling across a golden ocean.

Yet Luz's attention was skyward and she kept craning her neck to peek up through her open window.

“What are you looking for?” Stacie asked from the backseat.

“Butterflies,” Luz replied. “Monarchs, actually. Now that we're in Texas I thought I'd be seeing loads of them. Where are they?”

“You'd have a better shot at spotting one if you looked along the side of the road. Most of the time I see them flying around the flowers down there,” she said, pointing at the large swatch of wildflowers that banked the highway. “Or getting smashed on the windshield.” She snickered.

“You think that's funny?” Margaret hissed.

There was a tense silence in the small car. Luz glanced in the rearview mirror to see Stacie slump back and look at her nails.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” Stacie said at last.

“That's okay,” Luz said. “I wondered about that myself. I'll die if we hit one.”

“Truth is,” Stacie said, “I really love butterflies on account of my granny loved them. She never sprayed her flowers with pesticides or nothin' because she said that'd kill the butterflies and ladybugs. She liked ladybugs, too. Then she took sick and the Lord called
her home. We had a real nice service. At the cemetery, the minister was reading from the Bible when suddenly I seen a monarch butterfly land right on her gravestone! It stayed right there for the whole service. But the really weird thing is, now whenever I get sad and start missing her, I see a butterfly! You know what I think? I think those butterflies were my granny come from heaven to let me know she's all right. So that's why they're special to me.” She glanced over at Margaret with reproach. “It's the God's truth.”

Margaret looked unconvinced.

“I believe you,” Luz said with heart. “I guess, then, you won't think it's weird that I'm chasing butterflies, believing they're signs from
my
grandmother.”

“No friggin' way!” Stacie leaned far forward to bring her face closer. “You know what?” she asked, her eyes bright. “I'll bet we were meant to meet each other.”

Margaret snorted.

“Things like this happen more often than you'd think.” Then Stacie asked Margaret pointedly, “
You
got a butterfly story?”