The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY Read Online Free PDF

chauffeur solidly against the driver-side door, even as he dove for the wheel himself. The ancient door gave a startled grunt and flung open, hurtling Knott out of the vehicle like a pathetic rag doll.
    Father and son were frenziedly trying to regain control of the vehicle. But it was too late. The Mercury traversed the expressway like a feral meteor and went tearing into a large Banyan tree.
    Sage’s last thought was no thought at all. His mind was just too fuzzed to comprehend anything. His skull was saturated with monster shrieks from every direction and all he could manage was to make a despairing grab for his little daughter. But he couldn’t find her. Then a blinding flash of lightening socked his brain, like a hundred silver spears, and Sage Butcher blacked out.
    ***
That same year...Wednesday, April 12...
     
    THE playground of St. Teresa Children’s Home, an orphanage, was flourishing this warm evening. It was closing in on six pm and the sun would not call it quits for an hour still.
    Sister Toynette Severin Bracko, age fifty-two, sat with her deputy, Sister Clara, twenty-seven, on red modular chairs under a shade tree and watched the kids play.
    There were no divisions here—the boys and the girls played as one. There were five separate groups this evening, spread out over the large ground, and the one nearest to the Sisters were playing a strange mix of football and tag. One girl, especially, kept catching Sister Toynette’s attention. Her name was Robin and she was six and a half years old. She was smaller than all others she played with, but what engrossed Sister Toynette was her boundless energy and athleticism. She chased the ball relentlessly, beating boys twice her size to its possession.
    The ball was kicked by a biggish boy this time. It soared in the air, then curled and descended, and disappeared into a largish brush near the compound wall. While all the kids chased it, they stopped short on the fringe of the six feet high thicket, even the boys, suddenly too scared to venture in. But Sister Toynette saw Robin dash in without any hesitation. For a moment she disappeared, then re-emerged, ball in hand, a triumphant look in her blue eyes, and a lot of dirt on her clothes. Sister Toynette beckoned her.
    “Be careful,” she said, after she had dusted the girl with her hands.
    Brave girl, the Sister thought, thinking also that the brush along the compound wall had grown too big and badly needed attention. But the gardener, an aging fellow called Alan Gower, had gone down with a serious bout of typhoid and recovery was taking just too long. Sister Blessing, head of the Children’s Home, had insisted that she would wait for Gower, an old hand who’d been with the Home from the very beginning.
    As Sister Toynette watched Robin, she thought what sort of a mother would abandon a child so pretty and vibrant. She was easily the best kid in the Home and not just for her physical abilities. She unfailingly placed first in her class every time.
    The ball went into the bush once again and inevitably Robin it was who went in to retrieve. She is a natural leader, Sister Toynette told herself, watching the girl rematerialize in a jiffy, ball in hand. She watched her kick the ball, which went flying toward the heavens with surprising power. Sister Toynette and Sister Clara exchanged smiles.
    “What sort of a mother would forsake such a child?” Sister Clara said, echoing Sister Toynette’s own thoughts.
    “Not a very good one at all, be sure.”
    “A pathetic one, if you ask me.”
    The ball went into the brush for the third time and unfailingly Robin pursued it. And then a sharp scream tore out of the thicket. Sister Toynette’s heart gave a leap of alarm and she was on her feet in an instant. The boys and girls had flocked around the bush, but no one dared to go in.
    “Back! Back!” Sister Toynette shouted, brushing them aside. Her heart was racing as she blindly cut through the bush. In a small clearing