The Patron Saint of Butterflies(74)

Just then something bounces off my arm. I look up. Winky is sitting two tables over, waiting for me to look at him. He points toward the Great Door. “I have to tell you something,” he mouths.

I sit back a little in alarm. Aside from when I came to get Honey from his garden, Winky has never said more than “hello” and “good-bye” to me. He scares me a little, if you want to know the truth. I don’t like looking straight at his face.

“Please.” His lips form the word carefully.

I look over at Mom and Dad. They are still deep in conversation.

Winky is waiting for me outside the restroom when I get there.

“Honey’s not with us,” I whisper. “She stayed behind in … ”

He shakes his head and pushes a piece of paper in my hands. As I open it and see Honey’s handwriting, my hands start to shake.

Dear Winky:

Please don’t be mad at me. Nana Pete and Agnes and Benny and me are all running away. Bad things have been happening to us. Emmanuel has a secret room called the Regulation Room that he takes us to and beats us with belts in. I have marks on my back to prove it. Nana Pete found out about the room and she is taking us away from this horrible place. I think we are going to Texas, but we haven’t really worked everything out yet, so I will let you know when we get there.

There is one thing I need you to do for me. I think there may be a slight possibility that Agnes will come back. Even if I don’t come with her. I don’t have any proof; it’s just a gut feeling. And if she comes back, Emmanuel will make her and Benny pay in a way that I can’t even let myself think about. I’m afraid he will hurt them terribly. So please, if you find out that Agnes is returning, please call the police and tell them what I have told you. Tell them about the room. Tell them that all of the kids here are being hurt. Please, Winky. If I can’t save Agnes, please help me do it for her.

All my love,

Honey

P.S. I’m sorry I was too chicken to say good-bye to you myself. But I know I will see you again and when I do, I will be able to do it the right way.

“It was you who called the police when you found out we were coming back?” I ask when my voice finally returns.

Winky nods.

“And you … you told them about the Regulation Room? And everything Honey said?”


Winky nods again, more vigorously. “They already talked to me,” he whispers hoarsely. “But I didn’t show them the note yet. I figured you’d want to see it first. I told them you would know more. When they find out you’re back, they’re gonna talk to you, too.” He nods toward the back of the Great House. “They’re in there now, poking round that Regulation Room.” He takes a step toward me. “Please, Agnes. I didn’t know anything about that room. I swear on God Almighty. I never seen it. Not once. And Honey never told me nothing all these years.”

It’s as if a hand shoves me forward, right into Winky’s heavy arms. And even though it’s the closest I’ve ever been to him and I’m scared to touch him, I hold him tight around the waist. He smells like sun-warmed starch and wet dirt, just like Honey used to after working in the garden all day.

Two policemen, one tall and thin, the other round and chubby, walk out of Emmanuel’s room just as I return from talking to Winky. Emmanuel and Veronica are behind them, following closely at their heels. Emmanuel’s bearded chin is jutting out over the collar of his robe and Veronica keeps clasping and unclasping her hands, which, for some reason, are red and bleeding. Both of them look as if they are on their way to a funeral. The policemen, too, seem grave. The chubby one is studying the front page of a tiny notebook in his hand, while the tall one is scanning the crowd.

“We need to talk to the children,” the tall one says finally, facing us in the middle of the room and hooking his thumbs behind one of his belt loops. “Just the children. No one else.”

There is a rush of whispers among the adults, as the children look up at their parents fearfully. Benny slides closer to Mom. Dad is glowering at the tall policeman. No one moves.

“Now, please,” the policeman says. “Children only.”

Still no movement.

Emmanuel takes a step forward. “It’s all right,” he says. His arms are lifted high above us, as if he is going to start preaching, but his voice sounds weird, like it is rupturing around the edges. “Let all the children come forward. Have faith and do not be afraid.”

Little by little, kids of all ages step away from their parents, some by themselves, others holding their brothers’ or sisters’ hands. At the front of the pack is Iris Murphy, standing alone, her little arms folded across her chest.

I glance over at Benny, who is still sitting close to Mom. Then I see Dad, who is staring at me in a way I’ve never seen him stare at anything before. It’s even worse than the stare in the car, like actual heat is radiating out from behind his eyes, pulsing in waves throughout the air between us.

I lean down nervously toward Benny. “I think we have to go, Benny. Come on. It’ll be okay. I’ll stay right next to you the whole time.” Mom glances worriedly at me as she helps Benny off the bench. I take his hand in mine and lead him toward the group of children, pretending not to feel Dad’s white-hot gaze in the middle of my back.

“Remember, children!” Emmanuel’s voice echoes in my ears. “Remember we are Believers.”