He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. "Please come. I want to teach you something." He motioned at her with his head, his face still forward looking down at his treasures. She moved toward him slowly, knowing if she bumped him or his work it could have a devastating effect on his process.
"See this one?"
"It's stunning!" Nessie marveled at its beauty, with its large black and blue wings.
"Yes, she is, isn't she." There was pride in his tone, "She...is....in....deed!" He breathed a breath of great satisfaction as he pulled his hands back to reveal the carefully written tags he had pinned to her. His hands, although puffy with age, worked with precision on his delicate subjects.
"I present to you, 'Miss Diana, the Diana Fritillary butterfly. My precious Speyeria Diana.'" He looked up at her and smiled. "She is native to fields and mountain forests in the eastern parts of the country. I found her while hiking on vacation last summer," he explained.
She noted the tag, three carefully written lines, in the tiniest little letters:
"Classification: family Nymphalidae,
genus speyeria,
species S. Diana"
"Did you know she loved violets? It's where she got her start. Violets host the larvae, you see, " he explained. "But there I go, boring you again."
She smiled. "I always learn something from you." But it was somewhat true. Still, she admired his passion.
Noting her indifference on the subject, he sat up straight and slapped his hands on his knees. "What do you say, my painted lady? Are you up for an evening you'll never forget? I have something very special planned for us." There was a playful, boyish look in his eyes. "You are so beautiful, Vanessa."
She grinned from ear to ear, taking in the compliment, but corrected him on her name. "Nessie," she said firmly. Vanessa was the name her mother had used when she was in trouble. "Nessie," seemed much more affectionate.
"Oh, Vanessa, don't you know how grand your name is?" He turned slightly and waved his hand across his collection. "Why, it would be like calling this beautiful butterfly simply 'Di', and not by her formal name. But Nessie it is. If you insist."
She cleared her throat nervously. "So, dinner then? Or what do you have planned?" she asked, changing the subject.
Sam was so formal. Sometimes it made her uncomfortable, but it was his charm and formality that had made her feel safe with him from that first introduction. She recalled thinking she'd never find a true gentleman, one with real manners, and then, as fate would have it, there he had stood.
He reached up and cupped her face, as if he hadn't heard her question. "Yes, so very beautiful," he whispered, with a far away look. "Like a butterfly," he thought.
He reached up and cupped her face, as if he hadn't heard her question. "Yes, so very beautiful," he whispered, with a far away look. "Like a butterfly," he thought.
Her face, lightly blushed, had a dewy glow. Her lips, slightly pouty, were dressed in soft pink gloss. But it was her wide eyes, made wider by a pale white shadow, with dark liner and long dark lashes that caught his affection. Yes, they had been the draw since day one.
She was flattered. No man had ever given her compliments like he had, and it meant a lot to her, having felt like a plain Jane growing up. She assumed he meant "painted lady" as a compliment, and she began to feel a blush coming on.
"Let's get going, I'm starving!" she said, trying to take the focus off herself.
He clicked off the light over his work, turned and reached for the small of her back, and guided her up the stairs to the kitchen where they gathered up their belongings -- keys, wallet, purse -- and headed out the door.
As they settled in the car and buckled up, he paused briefly and smiled at her. "Music, my dear?" He didn't wait for her to answer, but reached for the knob and turned it. There was a moment of silence and then...."At laaaast, my love has come a-long.... My lonely days are over... And life is like a song..."
She was flattered. No man had ever given her compliments like he had, and it meant a lot to her, having felt like a plain Jane growing up. She assumed he meant "painted lady" as a compliment, and she began to feel a blush coming on.
"Let's get going, I'm starving!" she said, trying to take the focus off herself.
He clicked off the light over his work, turned and reached for the small of her back, and guided her up the stairs to the kitchen where they gathered up their belongings -- keys, wallet, purse -- and headed out the door.
As they settled in the car and buckled up, he paused briefly and smiled at her. "Music, my dear?" He didn't wait for her to answer, but reached for the knob and turned it. There was a moment of silence and then...."At laaaast, my love has come a-long.... My lonely days are over... And life is like a song..."
"Ahhhh, my favorite CD," he said.
Etta James. She marveled at how that old standard never really got old. As they wound their way on the two-lane, her mind wandered to the day they met.
*********
"A pretty painted lady!" She looked up from stocking the plants, and saw him extending his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself." She was not accustomed to such formalities at the nursery where she worked, or anywhere for that matter.
"I'm Samil, but you can call me Sam."
"Hello, Sam. I'm Vanessa, but they call me Nessie." She wiped her hands on her apron and extended her hand. "What can I help you with today?" She smiled nervously, taken aback by his saucy introduction. Still, she was intrigued by his charm.
"I am looking for plants that will attract butterflies," he said matter-of-factly.
"Hmmm. Let me see. Come this way." She led him to the section of brightly colored flowers. And under the display were canisters of seeds. She sorted through them until she found one that said that said, "Butterfly Mix."
"I guess I should have asked. Do you want to start from seed, or with something that is already started for you?"
"Which is better, in your opinion?"
"It depends on what you like, and how much time you want to invest in cultivation. And of course, seeds are much cheaper. But they do take longer." She couldn't get a read on what he might prefer.
"My dear, I think I shall get both kinds. That way I'm sure to attract a wide variety, don't you think?"
"Sounds like it can't fail!" she nodded her head in agreement, then led him to the blooming starters and helped him select the healthiest plants -- two boxes with eighteen each and a canister of seeds that could simply be sprinkled and left to grow without much tending.
"Oh, I almost forgot! You'll need some fertilizer."
"Fertilizer? I suppose I do. I'm afraid I'm not very good at this science of gardening... my passion is butterflies, not so much gardening. You see, I'm a collector."
"Do you have someone to help you? Where do you live? " She winced at her questions and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business, really. I was just thinking if you needed some consultation I could swing by on my way home from work and show you how to get started. I didn't mean to be so forward."
Etta James. She marveled at how that old standard never really got old. As they wound their way on the two-lane, her mind wandered to the day they met.
*********
"A pretty painted lady!" She looked up from stocking the plants, and saw him extending his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself." She was not accustomed to such formalities at the nursery where she worked, or anywhere for that matter.
"I'm Samil, but you can call me Sam."
"Hello, Sam. I'm Vanessa, but they call me Nessie." She wiped her hands on her apron and extended her hand. "What can I help you with today?" She smiled nervously, taken aback by his saucy introduction. Still, she was intrigued by his charm.
"I am looking for plants that will attract butterflies," he said matter-of-factly.
"Hmmm. Let me see. Come this way." She led him to the section of brightly colored flowers. And under the display were canisters of seeds. She sorted through them until she found one that said that said, "Butterfly Mix."
"I guess I should have asked. Do you want to start from seed, or with something that is already started for you?"
"Which is better, in your opinion?"
"It depends on what you like, and how much time you want to invest in cultivation. And of course, seeds are much cheaper. But they do take longer." She couldn't get a read on what he might prefer.
"My dear, I think I shall get both kinds. That way I'm sure to attract a wide variety, don't you think?"
"Sounds like it can't fail!" she nodded her head in agreement, then led him to the blooming starters and helped him select the healthiest plants -- two boxes with eighteen each and a canister of seeds that could simply be sprinkled and left to grow without much tending.
"Oh, I almost forgot! You'll need some fertilizer."
"Fertilizer? I suppose I do. I'm afraid I'm not very good at this science of gardening... my passion is butterflies, not so much gardening. You see, I'm a collector."
"Do you have someone to help you? Where do you live? " She winced at her questions and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business, really. I was just thinking if you needed some consultation I could swing by on my way home from work and show you how to get started. I didn't mean to be so forward."
"Not at all. Miss Vanessa, I would be honored to have your expertise in the garden. And I would be happy to show you my butterfly collection while you are there. Do you like butterflies?"
"Who doesn't like butterflies? I mean, as children, we learn to love them and catch them. They represent a sort of freedom, I suppose."
"Ah, yes. Children like to set them free, watch them fly," he said. "When I began collecting, I realized I could sustain their beauty. Did you know there are butterfly collections that date back to the 1700's? There are butterflies in those collections that are now extinct."
He became quite animated as he continued. "It's more than a hobby for me. It's an act of preservation, a duty you might say." He continued, "The butterfly is an amazing creature of nature, starting out as larvae, progressing to a lowly caterpillar that hides from the world for a period of time while it is transformed into a beautiful, winged thing. It's so terribly sad that butterflies have such short lifespans. And that's why I enjoy preserving them...to give them an everlasting tribute to their remarkable elegance."
She listened intently. She had never met someone with such a passion for anything.
"How long have you been collecting?" she asked.
"For as long as I can remember," he said. "Well, at least since I was a boy. My parents traveled the world as missionaries, you see. It was hard to make long-standing friendships, so I became friends with nature; I quickly realized butterflies were in all parts of the world, and it just seemed natural to collect them as souvenirs. I educated myself on how to preserve them, and that's how my collection started. With one delicate beauty, then another, and so on."
Nessie looked back at the register and noticed a growing line. He noticed, too.
"Oh, my dear, I'm keeping you from your work." He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a little pad of paper and began writing. "This is my address. I hope to see you after work. You are right. I could use some help."
She took the paper and folded it with care, and placed it in her pocket. "I will be there. You can count on it. Shortly after seven."
******
He was quite a few years her senior, but she had decided it didn't really matter. He seemed to adore her, and she had never been treated so much like a lady. He still hadn't even kissed her. In a world filled with handsy men, he was a rarity. But she was now longing for that kiss. Maybe it would happen tonight. She hoped.
Sam reached over and turned off the music.
"Do you know what tonight is, Vanessa?"
"Um. Help me out, Sam. I'm not sure."
"It is our four week anniversary... of the day we met, the day our mutual affections were first noted. Did you realize that?"
"I hadn't really given it much thought," she confessed. "Has it really been a month already?"
"Well, I consider it an honor to be with such a beautiful creature, and I intend to preserve this special night for us."
"And how do you intend to do that, kind sir?" she said playfully.
"It's a surprise. A big surprise. One you would have never expected."
She hoped it involved at least a first kiss.
Sam began slowing the vehicle as he approached the little side road that was off to the right. "I think it's time I introduce you to the ones in my life who have been most important to me." he explained.
"I thought we were headed to the restaurant." She was confused at the change in plans. And she was still hungry.
"Patience, Vanessa. We're having drinks to kick off the celebration," he explained. "And then we'll see where it leads us."
The road began to narrow and eventually turned into a gravel road with grass growing up the middle.
"Where are we going?" asked Vanessa.
"To meet those who have been important to me." His voice had become soft, almost a whisper, like he was talking to himself.
Just up the road they came to a old metal arbor, with iron letters that read "Cemetery."
As they drove through it she asked, "This cemetery... is your family is here?" But there was no response.
She listened intently. She had never met someone with such a passion for anything.
"How long have you been collecting?" she asked.
"For as long as I can remember," he said. "Well, at least since I was a boy. My parents traveled the world as missionaries, you see. It was hard to make long-standing friendships, so I became friends with nature; I quickly realized butterflies were in all parts of the world, and it just seemed natural to collect them as souvenirs. I educated myself on how to preserve them, and that's how my collection started. With one delicate beauty, then another, and so on."
Nessie looked back at the register and noticed a growing line. He noticed, too.
"Oh, my dear, I'm keeping you from your work." He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a little pad of paper and began writing. "This is my address. I hope to see you after work. You are right. I could use some help."
She took the paper and folded it with care, and placed it in her pocket. "I will be there. You can count on it. Shortly after seven."
******
He was quite a few years her senior, but she had decided it didn't really matter. He seemed to adore her, and she had never been treated so much like a lady. He still hadn't even kissed her. In a world filled with handsy men, he was a rarity. But she was now longing for that kiss. Maybe it would happen tonight. She hoped.
Sam reached over and turned off the music.
"Do you know what tonight is, Vanessa?"
"Um. Help me out, Sam. I'm not sure."
"It is our four week anniversary... of the day we met, the day our mutual affections were first noted. Did you realize that?"
"I hadn't really given it much thought," she confessed. "Has it really been a month already?"
"Well, I consider it an honor to be with such a beautiful creature, and I intend to preserve this special night for us."
"And how do you intend to do that, kind sir?" she said playfully.
"It's a surprise. A big surprise. One you would have never expected."
She hoped it involved at least a first kiss.
Sam began slowing the vehicle as he approached the little side road that was off to the right. "I think it's time I introduce you to the ones in my life who have been most important to me." he explained.
"I thought we were headed to the restaurant." She was confused at the change in plans. And she was still hungry.
"Patience, Vanessa. We're having drinks to kick off the celebration," he explained. "And then we'll see where it leads us."
The road began to narrow and eventually turned into a gravel road with grass growing up the middle.
"Where are we going?" asked Vanessa.
"To meet those who have been important to me." His voice had become soft, almost a whisper, like he was talking to himself.
Just up the road they came to a old metal arbor, with iron letters that read "Cemetery."
As they drove through it she asked, "This cemetery... is your family is here?" But there was no response.
"Sam. Sam?"
He didn't answer, but continued to drive slowly past a patchwork of old tombstones, worn with age, names and dates barely visible. As he rounded a little hill, she noted a section of new tombstones at the periphery of the cemetery. When the car stopped, they were in front of them.
Sam continued his silence, as if overcome by sadness. Then suddenly, as if to cheer himself, said, "What do you say we have a drink? A glass of wine? To celebrate our special occasion!"
He didn't answer, but continued to drive slowly past a patchwork of old tombstones, worn with age, names and dates barely visible. As he rounded a little hill, she noted a section of new tombstones at the periphery of the cemetery. When the car stopped, they were in front of them.
Sam continued his silence, as if overcome by sadness. Then suddenly, as if to cheer himself, said, "What do you say we have a drink? A glass of wine? To celebrate our special occasion!"
He reached in the back and retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses. "My dear, let me do the honors." He opened the glove box and fumbled until he found it.. "A-ha!" he said, waving a corkscrew in victory. "Let us open the wine!"
He popped the cork and inspected the glasses as he held them up to the setting sun. She noticed an initial etched in each glass. He handed her the glass marked "V". Let me pour this for you my dear. He began to fill her glass, and swirled it ever so gently. "A special drink for a special lady. Now take a sip."
"Thank you, Sam. You think of everything."
It really was peaceful there. As they sat in silence, she still wasn't sure why they had come, and she began to feel a little lightheaded, from being hungry, she assumed.
"Sam, this is a beautifull place. But we need to get to the restaurant soon. I'm starting to feel light headed."
"Vanessa, my dear, do you know what a Painted Lady is?" he asked.
"I assumed it was a pretty lady," she said, taking another sip. The name had always flattered her.
"Nessie. Nessie, my dear, naïve Nessie. No. No. No," His tone had changed and he seemed to be mocking her now. Puzzled, she looked at him. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. His words were flat, but distinct, as his eyes fixed in the distance. "My parents."
"Pardon me?" She didn't understand the statement.
"They were abhorrent people."
"I thought they were missionaries, people of God," she said, taking another sip. She tasted an unfamiliar bitterness this time, and suddenly felt very nauseated.
"Do you know what "Samil" means, my dear?"
"Sam, I'm not feeling so well. I think I'm going to be sick."
"It means, 'Angel of Death.' My parents -- missionaries -- named me 'Angel of Death.' What God-fearing people taunt God like that? It's always been a mystery to me."
Nessie felt her whole body beginning to turn against itself. She couldn't help but release an unsettling moan.
He turned to her, put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Vanessa, a Painted Lady is a butterfly! A beautiful butterfly! The only truly beautiful thing on this earth. When I saw you at the nursery - your name tag: "Vanessa." Like my precious Vanessa Cardui, the Painted Lady butterfly. Your eyes, like the lovely eyespots on her wings... white spots hemmed in black... why, don't you see? You're a Painted Lady in human form!"
As she tried to pull away, he leaned in toward her and cupped her face, "Sadly, my dear, her life span is no more than four weeks." He looked in her eyes directly with a knowing pity. "Vanessa, I so enjoyed your company, our brief time together. But it's time." He paused, and lipped a count on his fingers... one...two...three...four.... "Why, it is four weeks today. Exactly."
Nessie fumbled for the handle and finally opened the door. Her heart was beating quickly, and her head was spinning as a lump rose up in her throat. The realization he had poisoned her was sinking in. She fell out of the car, but stumbled to her feet. With tears in her eyes and head reeling she made her way toward the tombstones. What she began to read sickened her, as she began to realize his chilling plan. Each of the tombstones was engraved with what appeared to be the name and species of butterflies. A familiar name caught her eye as she collapsed.
He popped the cork and inspected the glasses as he held them up to the setting sun. She noticed an initial etched in each glass. He handed her the glass marked "V". Let me pour this for you my dear. He began to fill her glass, and swirled it ever so gently. "A special drink for a special lady. Now take a sip."
"Thank you, Sam. You think of everything."
It really was peaceful there. As they sat in silence, she still wasn't sure why they had come, and she began to feel a little lightheaded, from being hungry, she assumed.
"Sam, this is a beautifull place. But we need to get to the restaurant soon. I'm starting to feel light headed."
"Vanessa, my dear, do you know what a Painted Lady is?" he asked.
"I assumed it was a pretty lady," she said, taking another sip. The name had always flattered her.
"Nessie. Nessie, my dear, naïve Nessie. No. No. No," His tone had changed and he seemed to be mocking her now. Puzzled, she looked at him. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. His words were flat, but distinct, as his eyes fixed in the distance. "My parents."
"Pardon me?" She didn't understand the statement.
"They were abhorrent people."
"I thought they were missionaries, people of God," she said, taking another sip. She tasted an unfamiliar bitterness this time, and suddenly felt very nauseated.
"Do you know what "Samil" means, my dear?"
"Sam, I'm not feeling so well. I think I'm going to be sick."
"It means, 'Angel of Death.' My parents -- missionaries -- named me 'Angel of Death.' What God-fearing people taunt God like that? It's always been a mystery to me."
Nessie felt her whole body beginning to turn against itself. She couldn't help but release an unsettling moan.
He turned to her, put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Vanessa, a Painted Lady is a butterfly! A beautiful butterfly! The only truly beautiful thing on this earth. When I saw you at the nursery - your name tag: "Vanessa." Like my precious Vanessa Cardui, the Painted Lady butterfly. Your eyes, like the lovely eyespots on her wings... white spots hemmed in black... why, don't you see? You're a Painted Lady in human form!"
As she tried to pull away, he leaned in toward her and cupped her face, "Sadly, my dear, her life span is no more than four weeks." He looked in her eyes directly with a knowing pity. "Vanessa, I so enjoyed your company, our brief time together. But it's time." He paused, and lipped a count on his fingers... one...two...three...four.... "Why, it is four weeks today. Exactly."
Nessie fumbled for the handle and finally opened the door. Her heart was beating quickly, and her head was spinning as a lump rose up in her throat. The realization he had poisoned her was sinking in. She fell out of the car, but stumbled to her feet. With tears in her eyes and head reeling she made her way toward the tombstones. What she began to read sickened her, as she began to realize his chilling plan. Each of the tombstones was engraved with what appeared to be the name and species of butterflies. A familiar name caught her eye as she collapsed.
MY PRECIOUS DIANA FRITILLARY
Classification: Family Nymphalidae,
Genus Speyeria,
Species S. Diana
June 15 - August 1
MY PRECIOUS VANESSA CARDUI
Classification: Family Nymphalidae
Genus Vanessa
June 15 - August 1
Crawling on the ground, she clawed for the next tombstone, hoping to get a firm grip and to steady herself. She had to wake up from this nightmare. Unable to right herself, she lay on the ground and looking up what she read on the stone next to a freshly dug grave confirmed her impending doom as darkness closed in around her:
MY PRECIOUS VANESSA CARDUI
Classification: Family Nymphalidae
Genus Vanessa
Species Cardui (Painted Lady)
May 3 - May 31
* * * * * * * *
It was well past dark when he put the shovel in the car. He closed the trunk with a thud, and took his seat at the wheel. Again, he got in the glove box, this time for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. He breathed the chill of the air and marveled again at how fortunate he had been to inherit the family ground.
The drive home was quiet. Too quiet. He reached for the knob and turned it. There was a moment of silence and then...."At laaaast, my love has come a-long.... My lonely days are over... And life is like a song..."
The drive home was quiet. Too quiet. He reached for the knob and turned it. There was a moment of silence and then...."At laaaast, my love has come a-long.... My lonely days are over... And life is like a song..."
Once home, he seated himself at his table, clicked on the light, and pulled out the glycine envelope. With tweezers, he carefully retrieved his treasure from inside. There she was, in all her beauty. His Painted Lady butterfly. He spread her wings and placed her on the spreading board.
"My precious Vanessa." There was pride in his tone.
He pulled his hands back to reveal the tag he had pinned to her, three carefully written lines, in the tiniest little letters:
Classification: Family Nymphalidae
Genus Vanessa
Species Cardui (The Painted Lady)
To my readers. This writing assignment was to mention a butterfly collection, a tombstone and a first kiss.
ReplyDeleteYou have such incredible creativity! Where are you getting the writing assignments? I began to feel creepy as soon as he entered the cemetery. Very effective writing.
ReplyDelete