She Only Speaks to Butterflies by Sandy Appleyard Read Free Book Online Page A

to stay with another one for the rest of yer life? That’s easy?”
    “Relax.” Leon gently grasped her hand. “What I meant was that for you, you can feasibly find another man to spend the rest of yer life with. Emotionally it ain’t easy, but you can do it.” He inhaled deeply. “Me, on the other hand, I have to change my entire physical self to be happy bein’ what I am. You can change being a widow. I can’t change bein’ a man. Well, at least not without half a million dollars and major surgery.”
    “I guess you’re right,” Sherry yawned.
    They lay there holding hands, until Leon thought Sherry was finally asleep.
    Then he heard her whisper. “Leon?”
    “Um hmm.”
    “I love ya just the way ya are.”
    “I love ya, too. Go to sleep.”
     
    …
     
    The sound of whimpering awakened Sherry. Darting out of bed she scurried along the cold floor to Denise’s room. Denise lay on her bed, hugging Rainy Day Bear like someone threatened to take him away. Turning on the lamp, Sherry pointed it away to avoid the glare. Kneeling down beside the bed, the young widow was almost nose-to-nose with her daughter.
    “Did ya have a nightmare?” She stroked Denise’s hair, forgetting that she was mute.
    The little girl squished the bear closer to her chest as tears flowed from her eyes onto the pillow. Sherry had an idea.
    “I’ll be right back.” When she returned, she knelt down in front of Denise, holding her hand out. “I have a present for ya.”
    Denise gave Sherry a blank look. Opening her hands, Sherry showed her the butterfly keychain Ned had given her earlier.
    “It’s from Ned.  You can go see him and say thank you in the mornin’.”
    Smiling graciously, Denise took the keychain from her mother’s palm, hugging it with her bear.
    “Do ya want me to sleep with ya?” Sherry asked, walking to the other side of the twin bed. She slowly climbed in. Wrapping her arm around the shaken girl, she laid her head on the remaining half of the pillow, and started humming a lullaby.
    “Yer safe now,” she said once the lullaby was over. “Go to sleep.”
    Sherry lay there, choking back tears. A normal mother would have been able to ask what the dream was about, and learn what demons haunted her child at night. Denise could have told her that she was scared of the ghost in the story that Leon had read earlier, or that a scary-looking man had approached her at school, or even that she saw a scary character on television. Information like this wasn’t privy to Sherry, so her only resort was to climb into bed with her seven year old without knowing the facts. She couldn’t discuss fear with her daughter, so that maybe Denise could understand things better and perhaps rise above them. It was nights like this when Sherry worried that Denise would never have true independence as long as she couldn’t or wouldn’t speak for herself.
    Part of the horror was knowing that if Denise spoke again, she could wake up one night calling for daddy. Had Denise properly grieved for Chris? She couldn’t join support groups or talk about it like other children could, so it was possible that when Denise did finally wake from this haze, that she may have some regression. Sure, Denise communicated in other ways with Sherry and others, and her therapist attested to this, but did that mean she’d learned to deal with things the same way a normal seven year old would have dealt with them? Even if Denise could speak again, would she be able to lead a normal life afterward? Would she remember the time when she didn’t speak?
    Sherry lay in bed, sobbing gently when Denise suddenly turned over, facing her mother. Holding her breath, Sherry felt Denise snuggle closer. Sherry exhaled slowly, relaxing. Denise wiped away a tear from her mother’s face, and then she kissed the tip of her nose.
    Sherry whispered. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
    The morning was crisp and fresh, and despite a hangover, Sherry