The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY Read Free Page A

Fountain. It wasn’t yet operational this day.
    Knott wished he could’ve been a gardener instead of a driver. He could work amongst the flora for limitless hours and not be bored or fatigued. If it hadn’t been for his daughters, he could even work for free. Such a wonderful garden had to have a gardener, nay a legion of them, to nurture it, Knott thought. But he couldn’t see any of them right now. Oh, how he would love to meet one, just to talk to the lucky bloke, to sit under a palm and discuss the roses, and suddenly he was jealous.
    He was snapped out of his fond longings by a movement at the porch and he stiffened to full attention, then raced back to his position by the car. But it was only the house servant, with luggage in both hands. Knott quickly walked to the Mercury’s rear and opened the boot lid. Another male servant followed and they quickly arranged the baggage in the massive trunk. That done, Knott went back and stood rigidly by the front passenger-side door. The Butchers would be emerging now and Knott stopped breathing. Easy now, fellow!
    The first to emerge was a little girl in a light blue, flower-patterned frock. She would be Philippa and she would be five years old, Knott told himself. (He had been to Joseph Scoff’s pad earlier this morning and had been briefed in depth by the veteran chauffeur.) Then he watched her freeze when she saw him. Her sky-blue eyes narrowed and a blend of suspicion and hostility crept into them.
    “Who’re you?” she shot from over the porch steps.
    Knott smiled and took a step forward. “I’m Stanley Knott, young Miss, and I’m your driver,” he said, almost fulsomely.
    “Uh?” The little girl’s face twisted in confusion. “No, you’re not! My driver is Uncle Joey. You’re not Uncle Joey!” The hostility widened.
    And then two elegantly dressed women, one young, one middle-aged, appeared and Knott was back to attention. He stepped hurriedly back and tentatively opened the rear door of the Mercury. He guessed the younger woman would be Frennie Butcher, Philippa’s mother, and the older would be Frennie’s ma-in-law, Paula. From what he’d been told, the younger woman was in her early thirties and the older in her mid-fifties, but they looked so much younger than their stated ages. The blithering advantages of being insanely rich, Knott thought dryly. They could have anything in the world—the best of foods, prime comforts, all the attention and pampering, and no worries whatsoever. While the men invented schemes to get richer, and richer still, all that the women had to do was luxuriate in their good fortune. Knott felt a sudden surge of resentment as he watched the women slide into the vehicle.
    He thought back on his own family. Three daughters and a fourth child on the way. All living in a twelve feet by twelve hovel in the only low income housing area of the city-state. He had been out of work for eight months and it was only a desperate plea for succor that had landed him this job. And Stanley Knott felt ashamed—if it hadn’t been for the Butchers, he and his family would be struggling on food stamps today. To feel any bitterness toward them was most ungrateful—nay, it was pure blasphemy.
    “Come on, Philippa, get in!” the younger woman shouted as her daughter refused to follow them, but instead kept hovering around the porch steps.
    “Where’s Uncle Joey, no?” Philippa demanded of her mother.
    “He took ill,” the mother answered brusquely.
    “Then I’m not coming. I want only Uncle Joey.”
    “Now, you…don’t you be that way!” thundered her mother.
    “Don’t you want to meet your Wolfy-Dad?” the older woman cut in.
    Those words were magic. The little girl quickly leapt down the steps and bounded over to the Mercury.
    “Good girl, now step in so driver-uncle can shut the door,” Paula Butcher beckoned.
    “No, I’m sitting in the front with Daddy,” Philippa said stubbornly.
    “Have your way!” Frennie