Page 100 of Broken Butterfly
Ryder links our pinkies together and raises our hands above my head. His mouth finds mine in a slow, delicious kiss. My breasts tingle against his hard chest. My body blooms and opens for him like a flower. He kisses each breast and each hard nipple, just like he kissed my mouth. Our fingers are still locked together as he slips inside of me and I sigh with pleasure.
“You’re my home, Ryder.”
“And you’re the love of my life,” he whispers back.
Chapter 28
Seattle
Elizabeth Ann
I’m surprised at how sunny it is today. I don’t ever recall it being this bright when I lived here for a year. If memory serves me correctly, it was mostly damp and overcast the entire time. It’s as if the heavens knew how hard this day was going to be for me and wanted to give me something beautiful to remember it by. The air is clean and fresh with a gentle breeze. Small, puffy dots of clouds sprinkle across the expansive archway of the azure blue sky.
Following the directions Drew emailed me when I contacted him, Jayson and I walk hand in hand across the grass until we get to a large statue. Even in the dead of winter, colorful flowers in pale yellow, vibrant green, and deep burgundy surround the base of a sculpted fairy princess. The gray concrete of the little fairy girl with long flowing hair is so lifelike, I almost reach out and touch her uplifted hand. In her small open palm is a butterfly. I gasp aloud at the emotions assailing me and Jayson pulls me into his side, kissing my temple. I hand Jayson a roll of paper that I brought with us. He takes it and bends down at the placard on the side of the five-foot statue that sits atop our little girl’s grave. The thought of her tiny body buried under the earth that I am standing on just about brings me to my knees.
Jayson has been deliberately quiet. I know he’s hurting as badly as I am. He unrolls the paper and holds it flat against the placard. I take out the piece of charcoal I brought with me and begin rubbing it over the paper with careful, meticulous strokes. Words appear as I drag the charcoal back and forth. The poem is not one of Hailey’s. I would have remembered if it was or would have found it in her binder of poetry that I have stored in the box in my closet. The coincidence of the symbolism of the butterfly is unnerving. How did Daniel and Drew know that the butterfly held a special meaning for me?
ELIZABETH ANN
Born and Died June 13, 2019
Beloved Daughter of Elizabeth Fairchild
Butterfly Angel
In you I see the Butterfly.
For though its appearance seems fragile, truly it is strong.
Its delicate beauty permeates eternal,
The rapid flutter of its wings symbolizes a true strength of heart.
Ceaselessly it will struggle, far distances it will roam;
Its soul forever seeking, searching.
God painted its wings, kissed with colors so bright,
It blinds with weeping honesty.
So beautiful it is, the Butterfly,
That each time and again as I dream of you,
Your small hand in mine, your smile that lights up a room,
The love that was swollen to burst inside of me for you,
I know. I believe.
Even though you’ve been taken from me—
You go on. You breathe inside me.
For every time I grow desperately lonely and long to hold you in my arms,
My sweet Elizabeth Ann,
