Page 11 of Butterfly Sisters
“Give it time.”
If only her mother knew. “I didn’t realize I missed this place so much,” she said, changing the subject. “Maybe I’ll cash it all in and move here instead.” She gave her mother a small smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
A slight look of uncertainty fluttered across Mama’s face just before she took another swig of her coffee.
“You okay?” Leigh asked.
“I’m just so happy you’re here.”
“You’re not getting rid of the cabin, are you?” Leigh asked with an uncomfortable chuckle. “It’s staying in the family, right?”
“Of course it is,” Mama said. “Nan wouldn’t have it any other way.”
With a sigh of relief, Leigh allowed her hiked shoulders to settle, and leaned back in her chair. In a strange way, coming back at this moment felt like the perfect thing to do.
While Mama was in the kitchen washing dishes, listening to the latest songs on country-music radio, Leigh walked around the living room. It was still the way Nan had decorated it, with the twin sofas facing each other, bright ocean-blue throw pillows in the corners of them. The wooden coffee table still had tiny droplets of paint from Nan’s projects, and a stack of books she’d been reading last. Leigh closed her eyes and imagined her grandmother sitting on the sofa, the book in her lap, beckoning Leigh over.
“Come and sit with your nan before you’re so old and busy that you forget to,” she’d say.
Leigh sat down on the sofa next to the end where Nan had always sat. “I’ll never forget,” she whispered. She laid her hand on the empty cushion, tears welling in her eyes, causing her to spring back up before she fell apart.
Pushing her emotion down, she went over to the desk but found herself more emotional as she took in the place where Nan had taught her how to write in cursive. Memories spilled over in her mind like a waterfall, unable to be contained. She pulled out the wooden chair and took a seat. If she tried, she could feel her grandmother’s arms around her as she guided her pencil to make the curls of the script.
She fiddled with the handle on the desk drawer that Nan said had always been Leigh’s. It was the spot where Leigh had kept all her notes about birds and her colored pencils. It was off limits to Meredith—Nan’s rules. Meredith had her own personal spot at Nan’s too: the old trunk under the window.
Leigh opened her drawer and peered inside. Her pencils were still there, along with a stack of papers. But an envelope sat on top. She pulled it out to take a look, surprised to find her name on the back in Nan’s curly writing. Was it an old birthday card or something?
She looked around to see if she was the only one in the room. When she realized she was, the sink still running in the kitchen, Leigh pulled out the folded paper inside and opened it up, revealing more of Nan’s handwriting—line after line of it. The date on it stopped her in her tracks. It was dated two days before she’d gone into the hospital.
“Mom, do you know what this is?” she called, but the water was still running and her mother was singing to the radio, so she hadn’t heard her. With another look around to be sure she was actually there and not dreaming, she read the note.
My dearest Leigh,
I know you and your sister are very different people, and sometimes you can’t always see eye to eye, but she’s family. Remember that. Embrace her. And no matter what, you’ll be okay. I’m going to tell your mother to pass on some news to you—it’s not something I want to put in writing because you need to hear it as a family. Know that I love you. But I have my reasons. I’m taking a gamble here, and I hope it works out.
All my love,
Nan
Leigh hugged the letter, that all-too-familiar ache that happened when she thought of her grandmother forming in Leigh’s chest. She peered over her shoulder at the doorway to the kitchen, wondering if she should tell her mother that she’d found the note, but she decided to keep it to herself. It was as if Nan had offered it to her in the quiet of the living room for a reason. So, Mama’s news had something to do with Nan… What could Nan possibly have to say that they didn’t already know?
She tucked the letter under the papers in her desk drawer and headed back to her bedroom to unpack, wondering what all this was about. But on the way to her room, she stopped midway. At the end of the hallway, the door to Nan’s art room was closed. She stared at it, feeling like Nan was standing behind it. For an instant, she wanted to bust open the door, wishing she could throw her arms around Nan, but she didn’t—she couldn’t—because the emptiness of the studio would crush her. Instead, she left it shut, and went into her room.
The denim quilt still covered Leigh’s bed, the little patches of mismatched fabric Nan had sewn into it still as vibrant as they’d been in her memory. Leigh set her suitcase down on the edge of the iron bed, the soft mattress sinking underneath it, still wondering about the letter Nan had left her. Did Meredith have one, or was it just for her?
Leigh had been the closest with Nan, staying with her every hour of the day when Meredith would run off to hang out with friends on their speedboats or to go to the nightly bonfires. Nan’s quiet, pensive nature made her a perfect complement to Leigh, and the two of them were always together whenever Leigh visited. And the cabin had been their hub. Those walls had overseen all the experiences that had made Leigh who she was outside of her academic life. It was in that cabin that she’d learned about love and loss, about true friendships, and the heartache that family could cause each other.
Leigh had gotten everything unpacked and into the drawers in the bedroom when Mama appeared in the doorway. “I was thinkin’ maybe we could take the boat out for a ride to get the engine primed for the week.”
“It’s got gas in it?” She slipped her suitcases into the small closet and closed the folding doors.
“Yeah, I had the marina folks gas it up before I got here yesterday. They brought it over and put it in the water for us.” She came in and sat down on the bed. “Wanna go?”
“I’d love to,” Leigh replied. “Let me just put my hair up so the wind doesn’t wreak havoc with it.” She dug around in her toiletries bag for her hair tie as Mama stood by. “I can’t remember the last time we rode on the boat, can you?”
Mama followed her into the bathroom and Leigh clicked on the light, drawing her brush through her hair to tie it back.
“It’s been ages,” Mama replied. “Your nan never liked to take the boat out after your granddad died, remember?”
