The Butterfly Forest

ONE HUNDRED-SIX

Three weeks later, I drove my Jeep into the forest on a bright Sunday morning. I walked the last half mile, small shovel in one hand, Glock under my shirt. When I came to the tree, I looked up at the limb where they’d hung Luke Palmer. Although the rope was gone, the bruise on the limb was there, the bark rubbed smooth. I thought about him drawing the sketch, the smile on his face when he finished. I glanced up at the two hearts carved in the trunk, long since grown together in the shape of butterfly wings. ME & MA. The old tree carried this tattoo on its face for life.

It took me less than a minute to find the steel box under the stone. The money was there like it had been since 1936. Maybe old money could help a new cause.

The following Tuesday, Elizabeth and I stocked Sovereignty with provisions, eased away from Cedar Key and set sail southward to the Florida Keys. Along the way, we stopped at Boca Grande, Cabbage Key, Useppa Island, Captiva, Sanibel, and Marco Island as we wound our way around the tip of Florida. We didn’t discuss Pablo Gonzales or Frank Soto. Soto was facing trial as accessory to murder and attempted murder. Gonzales was being held in a maximum security prison awaiting trial for orchestrating multiple murders and the unlawful trafficking of illegal substances. I guessed he would spend the rest of his life in a federal super-max prison like the one in Colorado that hosted permanent guests, such as Zacarias Moussaoui and others.

I saw a side of Elizabeth I knew was there, slowly emerging out of the fear and shock from Molly’s death. We spent our days swimming in the clear waters of the gulf as I taught her how to sail. I caught and filleted fish for some of our dinners. In three days, she had tanned well, a trace of freckles dusting across her back. We anchored off Cayo Costa Island and explored the sugar white beaches, making love under the rustle of palm fronds, the breeze blowing in from the ocean.

At night we dropped the sails, anchored off the barrier islands, sipped wine under starlight, and picked out the constellations while listening to the soft sounds of island music on the stereo. Our last night at sea, she looked at the stars and said, “I will never look at the heavens in the same way.”

“And what way is that?”

“A disengaged way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been too complacent all my life. This is a beautiful world, and life’s so damn short. Our place in the universe flows in sync way too well to be taken for granted. There must be some grand and master plan behind something this complex and stunning. Maybe Molly’s somewhere up there or in a dimension that’s even more spectacular. I believe she is, and although I will miss her terribly the remainder of my life, I feel a strange kind of peace. Thank you, Sean.”

After seventeen days at sea, we finally delivered Sovereignty to her new owners at Ponce Marina. Elizabeth said goodbye to Dave and Nick, assuring them that she could reopen her restaurant and restart where she left off before Frank Soto had raised his ugly head.

“We’re going to miss you,” Dave said.

“That’s right,” Nick said, smiling and shaking his shaggy head. “You’re the best thing that Sean ever brought to this marina.”

She smiled, kissed Dave and Nick on their cheeks and said, “Come to my little restaurant sometime. I now have a new Greek dish I want to offer my customers.”

Nick beamed as Elizabeth, Max and I walked down L dock to the parking lot. She wore a white sundress, sandals and a smile. I helped her load things into her Ford Escape. She said, “We met in a parking lot, and we say goodbye in a parking lot.”

“Not goodbye, but rather I’ll see you soon.”

“Sean, we both need time to sort out the next chapters of our lives.” She touched my cheek. “You’re a good, kind and yet complicated man, someone whom I believe can love as deep as he can defend. You’ve defended me, taught me to sail, and taught me to laugh again… to live again. Maybe one day we’ll teach each other how to love again. Right now, I need time to learn who I am without Molly. I’m going to miss you and Max.” She leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips, and then bent down and petted Max. “Bye, Maxine,” she said, as a tear rolled down her tanned face. Then she turned around, got in her car and drove away.