The Patron Saint of Butterflies(36)

I wonder if Winky found my note yet. The moon is just peeking out from behind a few wispy clouds in the sky, which means that the Yankees are probably already on. What will he do when he reads it? Anything? Nothing? I miss him already and it’s been only a few hours. I try hard to push him from my mind as I head back inside.

Nana Pete is sitting alone inside the waiting room, staring at a television set with the sound turned off. Some guy is on the screen, pointing at a toaster oven and waving his arms around like a nut. She starts as I come into the room and I realize I have woken her.

“Where’s Agnes?” I ask as she rubs her eyes.

She points at another room across the hall. “In there. She said she needed privacy.”

I peek across the hall. Agnes is facedown on the floor, her arms spread out on either side of her. God Almighty. When does this stuff end?

A faint ringing sound comes from somewhere on the floor. I look over at Nana Pete’s purse. She freezes as it rings again.

“What’s that?”

“My phone,” she answers. It rings again, a high, fluted sound. I lean over and watch as she flips open the top. It rings one more time as the words UNKNOWN NUMBER blink on the tiny screen. “Damn it,” she says, holding the phone away from her.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Who is it?”

“It’s an unlisted number, which means it’s probably Leonard.” She rubs her nose. “I forgot that I gave this number to him.” It rings again.

“Just ignore it,” I say. “Put it back in your purse.”

But Nana Pete shakes her head. “He’ll just keep calling.” She looks out toward the other waiting room, where Agnes is. “Shut the door, will you?”

I close the door softly as she flips open the phone again, pushes a small red button, and holds the instrument to her ear. I can hear a voice, frantic and furious, on the other end.

“Mother?” Nana Pete winces and holds the phone away from her. “Mother? Is that you? Please answer me. Mother? Hello?”

Nana Pete closes her eyes and starts to bring the phone again to her ear. But I catch her arm, angling myself so that I can hear what he is saying. She takes a deep breath. “I’m here, Leonard.”

“Mother! Where are you? Where are the children? What have you done?”

Nana Pete gets up from her seat and begins to pace. I follow, still holding her arm down so that I can hear what is being said. Here we go.

“They’re here, Leonard. They’re right here. They’re safe. Benny’s hand is being operated on—”

“Operated? Operated! What are you talking about, Mother? Where are you? What are you doing?”

“The surgeon here said Benny would’ve lost his hand if I hadn’t brought him in,” Nana Pete says firmly.

There is no response from the other end of the phone. Then: “Okay, Mother. Okay, fine. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

Nana Pete inhales through her nose, her breath a single tremble. “They’re not coming back, Leonard. I’m taking them with me.”

“What do you mean, you’re taking them with you? Have you lost your mind? You can’t take them! They’re my children! Tell me where you are, Mother! Tell me right now or so help me, I’ll call—”

“No police!” I hear faintly in the background. Agnes’s mother. She’s crying. “No police, Isaac! Please! Remember what Emmanuel said about calling the police!”

I close my eyes, remembering what Mrs. Little is referring to. Three years ago, there was a slight uproar when a young woman named Anna Storm told Emmanuel she was calling the police after he took her into the Regulation Room. True to her word, two police officers arrived a few hours later. One of them, an Officer Marantino, informed Emmanuel that he was conducting a “thorough investigation regarding Anna’s abuse allegations.” He stayed for nearly eight hours, interviewing first Emmanuel, then Veronica, and finally numerous random adult Believers. No one admitted to ever receiving any kind of abuse by Emmanuel. Worse, after Officer Marantino asked to see the Regulation Room, he came out of it scratching his head.

“I can’t imagine what Ms. Storm is talking about,” he said. “That there is one of the nicest TV rooms I’ve ever been in.” He shook hands heartily with Emmanuel, nodded politely at Veronica, and left the grounds with his partner, shaking his head. No charges of any kind were filed and the abuse accusation was eventually erased from the record. Within minutes of Officer Marantino leaving the grounds, however, Emmanuel called for a mandatory meeting of all the Believers, including the children. His face was purple with rage and when he talked, spit flew from the corners of his mouth.

“If any Believer dares to call the police department to investigate my actions again, he or she will discover the real consequences of my wrath,” he roared. “Get out if you are not happy here! I am warning you! Get out!”

“Just tell us where you are, Mother.” Mr. Little pleads now. “Please. We’re not going to get the police involved, and Emmanuel doesn’t even have to know about it. Please, just let us come get the kids and we can forget any of this ever happened.”

Nana Pete shakes her head. “No one’s going to forget anything, Leonard. I know all about the Regulation Room.” There is a dead silence on the other end of the line. Nana Pete swallows hard and I can tell she is blinking back tears. “How could you let this go on, Leonard? How? They’re children! They’re my grandchildren!”