Butterfly Sunday Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: David Hill
suspicions in silence for the next eighteen months.
Tilly boasted that she and her mother-in-law had become like sisters in the months after Mr. Crowe’s death. Old Lady Crowe had confirmed this by singing her daughter-in-law’s praises all over town. Of course no one, except Tilly, knew that Mrs. Crowe had written a new will, naming her daughter-in-law her sole heir and executrix. Though not even Tilly knew that old Mrs. Crowe had seen a doctor when she developed a sour tummy after she ate a slice of Tilly’s lemon pound cake. Nor did Tilly know that the police would impound the container of Jell-O salad laced with arsenic when she rushed to her ailing mother-in-law’s hospital bedside.
The saddest part to Leona was that Tilly went screaming and crying her innocence all the way to thepenitentiary, and her children believed her. Old Mrs. Crowe took them to raise, but they never forgave her for “framing” their mother. It was too much for the elderly woman, who suffered a series of strokes before they were teenagers. By the time they were sixteen, both girls had dropped out of school and left town, each to pursue her own self-destructive fate.
Meanwhile, Averill’s voice betrayed no suspicion of his approaching fate. He was using his sincere tone now, playing bashful, unabashed and self-effacing. It was so empty, so false and conceited, she couldn’t begin to imagine what went on inside all those spellbound heads with eyes glued to him.
Odd how a life could come home to roost. Odd and menacing, Audena turning up for Averill’s last supper—even though it would be served at midday. It rattled Leona inside out and backwards. What did it mean? Well, there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about any of it now. She had laced several casseroles that morning. Then she finished off the arsenic, dumping the last bit into the chocolate pie filling.
Of course, she had carefully prepared two versions of each dish. That was for her and the likely happenstance of an extra mouth or two. People beat anything she had ever seen with their sense of entitlement. She couldn’t count the number who had managed to inveigle their way from the church steps to her dining room table for a free Sunday dinner.
Leona wasn’t stingy to those in need. In fact, she more than welcomed anyone who earned a plate by making himself good company. These were the threadbare, sanctimonious takers whose frayed cuffs belied savings accounts and whose dinner conversations began and ended with the words “Please pass.” Audenawould fit nicely into that category. Audena’s visit was timed to guarantee her a big meal.
She ought to kill off the whole damned bunch of them. She didn’t mean that, not even in thought. Yet the thought amused her to the point that she had to swallow a giggle.
Well, God was merciful after all. Averill’s sermon had finally come to an end. Everyone stood up for the hymn.
“The strife is o’er, the battle done, the victory of life is won.
The song of triumph has begun. Allelujah.”
From the choir loft the congregation looked like a sea of flowered hats. Now, that irritated her. That made her itch between the ears. Choir members never got to wear new hats to church on Easter Sunday.
3
EASTER SUNDAY, APRIL 23, 2000
12:23 P.M.
His sermon had made a big impression. They had all fallen in love with him one more time. Averill was glowing with pride at all the compliments he took while shaking hands at the door. Strange how a smile transformed his small, brittle features. His general demeanor was sullen. He held himself in pretty tight. He didn’t say much, unless he was mad, then he said way too much, erupting with volcanic rage. So most of the time he wore a downtrodden wince that only made him look all the more like a beady little rodent.
Of what could anyone with half a brain accuse her, other than poisoning a two-legged rat? He kept a rat’s habits, slithering around in the dark, carrying God
Tilly boasted that she and her mother-in-law had become like sisters in the months after Mr. Crowe’s death. Old Lady Crowe had confirmed this by singing her daughter-in-law’s praises all over town. Of course no one, except Tilly, knew that Mrs. Crowe had written a new will, naming her daughter-in-law her sole heir and executrix. Though not even Tilly knew that old Mrs. Crowe had seen a doctor when she developed a sour tummy after she ate a slice of Tilly’s lemon pound cake. Nor did Tilly know that the police would impound the container of Jell-O salad laced with arsenic when she rushed to her ailing mother-in-law’s hospital bedside.
The saddest part to Leona was that Tilly went screaming and crying her innocence all the way to thepenitentiary, and her children believed her. Old Mrs. Crowe took them to raise, but they never forgave her for “framing” their mother. It was too much for the elderly woman, who suffered a series of strokes before they were teenagers. By the time they were sixteen, both girls had dropped out of school and left town, each to pursue her own self-destructive fate.
Meanwhile, Averill’s voice betrayed no suspicion of his approaching fate. He was using his sincere tone now, playing bashful, unabashed and self-effacing. It was so empty, so false and conceited, she couldn’t begin to imagine what went on inside all those spellbound heads with eyes glued to him.
Odd how a life could come home to roost. Odd and menacing, Audena turning up for Averill’s last supper—even though it would be served at midday. It rattled Leona inside out and backwards. What did it mean? Well, there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about any of it now. She had laced several casseroles that morning. Then she finished off the arsenic, dumping the last bit into the chocolate pie filling.
Of course, she had carefully prepared two versions of each dish. That was for her and the likely happenstance of an extra mouth or two. People beat anything she had ever seen with their sense of entitlement. She couldn’t count the number who had managed to inveigle their way from the church steps to her dining room table for a free Sunday dinner.
Leona wasn’t stingy to those in need. In fact, she more than welcomed anyone who earned a plate by making himself good company. These were the threadbare, sanctimonious takers whose frayed cuffs belied savings accounts and whose dinner conversations began and ended with the words “Please pass.” Audenawould fit nicely into that category. Audena’s visit was timed to guarantee her a big meal.
She ought to kill off the whole damned bunch of them. She didn’t mean that, not even in thought. Yet the thought amused her to the point that she had to swallow a giggle.
Well, God was merciful after all. Averill’s sermon had finally come to an end. Everyone stood up for the hymn.
“The strife is o’er, the battle done, the victory of life is won.
The song of triumph has begun. Allelujah.”
From the choir loft the congregation looked like a sea of flowered hats. Now, that irritated her. That made her itch between the ears. Choir members never got to wear new hats to church on Easter Sunday.
3
EASTER SUNDAY, APRIL 23, 2000
12:23 P.M.
His sermon had made a big impression. They had all fallen in love with him one more time. Averill was glowing with pride at all the compliments he took while shaking hands at the door. Strange how a smile transformed his small, brittle features. His general demeanor was sullen. He held himself in pretty tight. He didn’t say much, unless he was mad, then he said way too much, erupting with volcanic rage. So most of the time he wore a downtrodden wince that only made him look all the more like a beady little rodent.
Of what could anyone with half a brain accuse her, other than poisoning a two-legged rat? He kept a rat’s habits, slithering around in the dark, carrying God
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