Butterfly Kisses

Title: Butterfly Kisses
Author: Ranger Alone
Fandom: Original
Rating: R / M for violence and strong language
Genre/s: tragedy
Warnings: strong language, violence, character death. This is not a happy tale. If you are easily upset, I strongly

suggest you hit the back button now.
Words: 4,291
Summary:
“For one to remain, another must go.” It was another typical Texas morning that would evolve into the worst day of my life.

Was I aware of it? Of course not. Had I expected it? No. Could I have stopped it? Yes.
Feedback?: I would appreciate it very much.
Personal Disclaimer:
This is a work of non-fiction. Names and places have been altered to protect confidentiality. Unauthorized reproduction

through any form or by any means is strictly prohibited.
A/N: This is a true story; my mind is not this sick. These events occurred on July 1, 2009.

Edited by Erin Foster.

Story is copyright © 2010 by M. A. Matthews. All rights reserved.

---

Butterfly Kisses

I watched as a butterfly alighted upon the smooth stone of my folly, the rays from the setting sun casting its delicate form

in an iridescent radiance. My eyes were drawn to the orange and yellow hues of its fluttering wings, and, as I’d always done,

I marveled at how something so beautiful could have evolved from something so plain. I found myself wondering if that was how

children grew. Did they evolve from baby butterflies into sweet-tempered swans? Or perhaps they started out as tiny fey and

grew into the wondrous insect before me now. Once they abandoned childhood, what did their cocoons release to the world then?

I would never know.

I’d often heard a butterfly’s life spanned a mere three days. Seventy-two hours of existence. Three sunrises and three

sunsets to leave their mark. I don’t know if what I’d been told was a fact, but let us pretend for a moment that it is. Let

us make believe it is we who have only three days to touch another life. What would we do? What would you do, dear reader?

What would I do? How do you say everything that needs saying? How do you experience the love of a lifetime? How do you

discover a reason for living?

The answer is so simple. Can you guess it, reader…?

---

It had begun like any other day. The baking sun boring down upon the ranch grounds was as merciless as ever, withering the

fields and causing the cherry oak of the barn to appear as though it were aflame and steaming. Sweat rolled off the horses’

flanks in rivulets as I led them from their stalls to graze upon what grass the heat had not robbed of green, my shirt

clinging to my back like a second skin. The loose, red-brown soil exploded in billows of dry, chalky dust beneath the touch

of the lightest footfall and the thick stream of water from the hands of the fountain mermaid in our front yard had dwindled

to a pitiful trickle. The flowers in the garden sat wilted and dead in beds of soil turned sand. Even the large oak beside

the house appeared bowed under the weight of the inferno.

It was another typical Texas morning that would evolve into the worst day of my life. Was I aware of it? Of course not. Had I

expected it? No. Could I have stopped it? Yes.

Do I regret it?

Every waking moment.

I can still remember exactly what I was thinking as I unlocked the paddock and turned the horses out. As Prancer made a

beeline straight for one of the ten-gallon watering buckets situated at sporadic intervals along the fence, I was mentally

calculating how much mulch was going to cost me in a heat wave like this and if it wasn’t simply cheaper to use the manure

from the pile behind the barn. Was it even worth trying to battle the sun? Should I simply wait for the spell to pass

before beginning to tend the garden once more? I cringed at the thought of barren flowerbeds and wilting plant life. It went

against my nature to allow such an abomination, but what choice did I have?

As Fillie bowed her head to feast delicately upon a patch of grass still green in defiance of the sun, my thoughts moved from

mulch and manure to the fate of the young girl I had diagnosed with stage IV stomach cancer only the week before. What would

happen to her? Would she live to see another summer? Would she survive to walk across the stage at her high school

graduation? And if not, what would her future have been? Would she have grown up to become another scientist, determined to

discover an end to the malignant monster stalking a quarter of the world's population? Would she have become a doctor, eager

to save those who had helped save her? Would I ever know? Would I even care?

I shook my head in disgust with myself as that final poisonous thought clawed its way into my mind. Of course I would care. I

couldn’t not. I’d often been told I cared too much.

“Daddy! Where are you? I’m hungry!”

I laughed as the morbid thoughts of moments before fled in the wake of my daughter’s voice. Releasing Athena to the relative

freedom of the corral, I refastened the gate and turned my steps toward the tiny figure in light blue pajamas standing, hands

upon her hips, at the top of the porch steps. Although I couldn’t see it from this distance, I knew her eyes would be alight

with childish indignance and a pout would remain a permanent fixture upon her lips until her stomach received the attention

it was due.

“I’m coming,” I said when I had reached the front walk.

“Not fast enough,” she quipped with a cheeky grin.

“You’re a brat.”

“I’m hungry,” she corrected.

“Very well, a hungry brat then. And what have I told you about coming outside without shoes on.”

“But I’m not off the porch,” she whined as I turned her by her shoulders and marched her back through the door.

“Be that as it may, you must learn to do as you’re told, Nicoletta Anne.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as we entered the kitchen.

“I’ll forgive you this time,” I said, sending her off to the table with a light swat to her bottom.

“Hey!” she giggled, trying and failing to look offended. “That’s child abuse!”

“All in the name of love, little one,” I said wryly, opening the refrigerator and peering in. “Eggs and toast?”

“Sunny side up and buttered,” she said, bouncing where she sat.

“You are far too excited at the prospect of food, Niks.” I snorted, retrieving said breakfast food from the fridge. “It quite

disturbs me, actually.”

“Mommy’s still asleep,” she responded.

“I couldn’t care less if Ashley eats.” My smile faded as my thoughts were unwillingly turned to my ex-fiancé: the woman I had

loved all my life. The one who betrayed Nikki and me both.

I can’t recall when I first met Ashley Jane Carrington, as I was only three years to her one, but I do remember the first

time we spoke. I was five and she had just turned three. Our first conversation was memorable because it sparked the

beginning of a friendship that would evolve into an all-encompassing love. It had rained recently and the front yard was

pockmarked with large, deep mud puddles. Somehow she’d managed to slip her sitter. She rushed across the lawn toward my

house, sprinting across her forbidden dream-playground.” I found it funny when I emerged from my own home and discovered her

contentedly building a castle of mud and making quite the mess of it.

“You’re not doing it right,” I said, coming to stand over her, my eyes gazing critically at her handiwork. “You’re supposed

to make a floor first.”

Her head snapped up, iridescent blue eyes staring accusingly at me. “It right!” she shouted. “Go away!”

“I live here. You go away. This is my house and that’s my mud.”

The moment her lip began to quiver, I changed tact. I didn’t want to be punished for making a girl cry. I would no doubt

receive a paddling for that. Papa didn’t like it when they cried. It made him really mad.

“I’ll show you how to build it,” I offered, kneeling down beside her. She looked at me suspiciously but finally relented with

the tiniest of nods.

That day had sparked a bond that would span twenty-eight years. We had built the world’s ugliest mud house, destroying our

clothing in the process. When building got boring, we decided throwing, jumping and making mud angels was far more

interesting. That was until, faces white with horror, our parents put a swift halt to our degeneration into mud monsters. I

must admit, I don’t think they caught us in time, and from that muddy Monday on, Ashley and I were inseparable.

That is until she decided we just weren’t enough anymore.

“Daddy.”

I blinked, returning to the present to find I was still standing by the fridge, staring blankly at the carton of eggs I held.

Without a word, I turned toward the stove and set them down.

“You still think about them, don’t you.”

“Think about what, Nikkibear?” I murmured.

“The good times. You still think about them.”

“They’re all I have now,” I said.

There was a pause, then, “Do you still love her?”

I didn’t answer for a long moment. “I shouldn’t.”

“You can’t just turn off your heart, Daddy.” Nikki was quiet for a moment before she spoke,. “I still love her too.”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel,” I replied, sliding a skillet onto the stove. “What she did is unforgivable.”

“Maybe,” the child mused, appearing distant and occupied. “But doesn’t everyone deserve forgiveness?”

“I’m not God. I don’t have that big a heart,” I said.

“Maybe you should get one.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Maybe.

---

My eyes cleared, losing the unfocused haze of the past. Feeling a gentle flutter against my hand, I glanced down to see the

butterfly had landed on my skin, a beautiful blemish upon an unworthy soul.

But doesn’t everyone deserve forgiveness?

Nikki’s words rang softly in my mind as I stared down at the gentle insect I unwillingly held.

“Not for this, Nikkibear,” I whispered to the morning. “Not for a crime like this.”

I tilted my head back, my gaze fixating upon something above which only I could see. Tears glimmered in my eyes, but I made

no attempt to banish them, even though I knew I shouldn’t be permitted the relief of weeping. Not this time. The grief eating

away at my heart was the price I knew I must pay for my selfishness.

If only. If only I had not been so weak, none of this would have happened.

---

“You gonna sleep over at Emma’s tonight?” I asked as she drew the currycomb gently across Prancer’s flank.

“Do you want me to? I know you get sad when you’re alone.”

“It’s not that,” I muttered, picking up a pair of shears and walking around the pony to tend to his shaggy mane. “I just

don’t want to be alone in the house with your mother.”

“Are you scared of her?”

“Hardly,” I snorted. “I just love you more. You make things almost comfy between us.”

“Then I’ll stay. Emmy can go one week without me.”

“What will you tell her?”

Nikki looked up at me, all dimples and shining eyes. “I’ll tell her my daddy needs me.”

I smiled down at her. “Always, little one. I will always need you.”

---

I gazed at Ashley in disbelief, my limbs shaking with suppressed rage. “Repeat that. You want what? I want to make certain I

heard you correctly.”

She sighed, sinking into a kitchen chair. “I want custody of Nikki.”

“The devil you do!” I exploded. “And what makes you think I’d hand her over to you after that little stunt you pulled just to

get away from us?”

“I wanted to get away from you. I never meant to hurt Nikki.”

I ignored the stab of hurt her words sent into my heart. Instead, I focused upon the fury the second half of her statement

evoked within me.

“You faked your death, Ashley!” I yelled, slamming my fist down on the table, causing the glass shakers in the center to jump

and rattle. “And you have the nerve to tell me you never meant to hurt her? Do you honestly think she loved you so little?”

“No. I…Well what I meant was—“

“I’m actually quite broke, Ash,” I snapped, “So you can go try selling your bullshit to someone else, because I’m not buying

it.”

“Will you just listen?”

“What’s there to say! She’s mine! Not yours!”

“She is our daughter, Matthew Alexander!”

“She stopped being yours when you broke her heart,” I growled. “You have no claim to either of us, and I will be damned if I

see her with you. You hear me? I will die before I let you so much as look at my little girl, let alone walk away with her.”

I saw a flash of something in her eyes, though my anger blinded me to the warning that spark held. If only I’d known. If only

I hadn’t underestimated the true fracturing of her mind.

---

“You’re still half asleep,” I chuckled as my daughter climbed into my lap on that fateful morning. “Did you have another

nightmare?”

She shook her head, wrapping her tiny arms about my neck. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

Setting my mug of hot cocoa aside, I held my child close. “I love you, Nikkibear. You’re my angel on Earth. You know that,

right? You know I’ll always love you.”

She smiled. “I know. You’re my hero, Daddy.”

“And you’re my heroine,” I said, tears in my eyes. Once more, I was astounded by the depth and sincerity of a child’s love.

---

I blinked, and once more, the cobalt sky met my gaze. It arched above me in an unbroken plain of blue, stretching toward the

horizon: always peaceful, never changing. I was staring at infinity, but this forever was one of gentle serenity. Nothing had

been lost. No sour tang of guilt filled my mouth when I looked up at it. Yet, as my eyes slid over the soft blanket overhead,

I felt no relief. There was no sense of calm, no feeling of sanctuary.

There was only a gaping chasm of emptiness.

---

It hurt. Oh, how it hurt. She’d flown through the door, the only warning I had being the click of the safety as she lunged at

me. Stunned, I wasn’t fast enough to evade her attack.

The first shot shattered the air with a resounding bang that left my ears ringing. The pain in my head masked the pain in my

chest as the bullet struck true, robbing me of breath. Though the explosion of the end had terrified me, it was nothing to

the shrill scream of a little girl.

“Daddy!”

Nikki. Nikki! No! No!

“Nikki, no!” I bellowed as she lunged at the woman before me. Her hands reached for the gun.

“No, mommy! Stop it!”

Throwing herself between us, the child managed to get a hold of the muzzle of the weapon., She yanked downward in a frantic

attempt to redirect the next shot. She never saw it coming. For me, I beheld it all in slow motion.

A petite six-year-old's strength is nothing when compared to that of a woman driven by insanity, intending to cause harm.

With an almighty wrench, the weapon was torn from the clenching hands of my little girl., It flashed with a sable fire as it

arced through the air.

No, no, no! my mind screamed.

“Nikki!”

My voice rang in my ears, echoing across the gulf of what could’ve been and what was too late to stop.

Crack.

I lurched forward as the butt of my intended death collided with the child’s temple. My arms reached toward her. I never made

it. The second shot ripped apart my composure, sending me to my knees with a wild scream of terrified agony., My eyes never

left the small form falling slowly, gracefully, to the hard wood floor.

Thud.

Nikki.

Raising anguished eyes toward the woman above me, my gaze spoke for itself. Why would you do this?

Ashley just smiled., Lifting the gun, she pointed it at my heart. With a clarity I never imagined I would ever possess, I

watched her finger begin to move. I noted the cracked tip of her fingernail. Each miniscule grain in the metal of my ultimate

doom. Vaguely, I thought I heard a voice. Thought I saw a shadow.

Bang.

Then blackness.

---

I found myself on a rock in the center of a calm sea, while a sighing summer breeze caressed my face with tender gentleness.

Sunlight kissed my exposed skin, healing what my mind could not bear to face, even now that I was gone.

“You’re so silly.”

My breath caught at the all-too-familiar voice, the voice that greeted me each time I returned from work, the voice that

often sent me to sleep with a song.

“Nikki,” I breathed, turning slowly, almost afraid if I were to see her, she would vanish forever.

“You’re so silly,” she said again.

And there she was, perched casually upon the smooth stone, gazing up at me with shining eyes full of amusement.

“You’re so silly.”

“Why?” I breathed. The question was so much deeper than it appeared. Why was I silly? Why had she done what she did? Why

hadn’t I let her go to Emma’s? Why had I been so weak? Why? Why? Why?

“You’re not dead, Daddy.” She dipped her fingers into the crystalline water. “You’re dreaming.”

“But I saw…I heard…Ashley…”

“Uncle Jesse saved you.”

I didn’t miss the fact that she had said “you” and not “us.” My mouth went dry as my mind processed what that omission

implied.

“Nikki.”

She looked up from the sea.

“You too. Right?”

She remained silent.

“Nikki.” My voice was urgent. “He saved you too.” I was pleading now.

My daughter looked across the glassy surface of the rippling water toward a shore of white sand extending in gentle bounds to

the edge of the harbor. Even without touching it, I knew it would be soft as a cotton flower. Beyond the expanse of rolling

ivory, I could just make out the healthy green of a far off country; one I was not yet permitted to enter, but which, I knew

in my heart, was now my child’s home.

“It’s so pretty here,” she whispered. “You’ll like it when you come back.”

I swallowed hard. “You…aren’t coming home with me, are you?”

Sadly, she shook her head. “I have to stay here,” she said softly. “He says so. The green place is my home now.”

Hot tears filled my eyes, spilling over as I fell to my knees before the only one who made life worth living, the only one I

had ever loved with a simple unconditional heart. Looking up, she touched my face with her small hand, stroking my cheek with

an innocence I knew I would crave forever.

“Don’t be sad, Daddy,” she soothed. “This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

“No,” I choked out. “No, it’s not. You’re a baby, Nikki. You shouldn’t be here. This journey was meant for me, not you.”

“For one to remain, another must go,” she said, quoting the words I had used when explaining to her four-year-old mind why

she had been born and grandmamma had gone to God the same hour. For once, they held no comfort for me.

Bowing my head, I rested it in her lap, shaking with convulsive sobs, my tears flowing in a fast river. They soaked through

her light blue skirt as her hand ran softly through my hair, a silent attempt at comfort. I never imagined our roles would

ever be reversed. Shouldn’t I be the one easing her fears of the unknown? Shouldn’t it be her arms about my waist while I

rocked her to the music of the wind? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“You can’t go,” I gasped through my tears. “Nikki…I need you more. You can’t stay here. This isn’t right!” I let out a

pitiful, heartbroken sob. “It’s not fair.”

“It never is, is it?” she murmured, scratching my head. Normally, that gesture would calm me in an instant, sending me off

into a dreamy haze of contentment. But not this time. This time the pain was too raw, the wound too bloody to be overshadowed

by sensations of a simple pleasure.

“You have to promise me something, Daddy. You have to promise me you won’t be sad.”

“I can’t do that,” I said instantly. “I’m only human, Nikkibear. I have to be sad.”

She paused. “Well, don’t be sad forever, okay? You have to go on without m—“

“Don’t say it.” My head whipped up to gaze at her. “I promise, but don’t say it. Please.”

She nodded.

Suddenly, a deep, celestial bell tolled from far off, the sound gliding across the rippling water to fall upon our ears with

a note of unknown divinity. Nikki looked up, her hand moving to stroke my tearstained cheek once more.

“It’s time for you to go now,” she whispered.

Another wave of grief hit me, and I pulled my child into a crushing embrace. She clung to me desperately, and for the first

time, I realized that she didn’t want this any more than I did. She was not frightened. No. I didn’t sense fear. But she was

hurting. I was the only parent she had ever truly known, the only one who’d always been there.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” I choked out as I attempted to fight back another surge of tears. “I love you so much.

You’ll always be my little angel. She’ll pay for this, Nikki. I promise.”

Her tiny arms clenched about my neck, Nicoletta buried her face in my shirt with a nod. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice

muffled by fabric. “I love you forever, Daddy. And I promise I’ll always watch you. You can talk to me and I’ll talk back,

but I’ll answer you without talking , kay? I’ll always be there for my daddy. I love you, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much. I

don’t,” she let out a pitiful little sob. “I don’t want you to go!”

I was surprised she wasn’t crying out in pain from the force with which I was holding her, but she was beyond physical pain

now. All the things that had made her body human were gone. She was just an innocent soul.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“Don’t send Prancer away. Keep him for Emma.”

“Never,” I breathed. “I would never send your pony away. He will always have a home with me.”

The bell tolled again and we both knew it was time. I could feel we were being given a warning. I don’t think that bell would

have tolled thrice. Not without tearing us both apart before our goodbyes were complete. Placing numerous kisses to the soft

cheek of my baby girl, I closed my eyes and enjoyed my final moments of holding her in my arms. I knew it was only one of the

things I would miss with a ferocity untold.

Nikki returned my kisses with flurries of her own, her eyes glistening.

“Don’t cry, Daddy,” she said, even as a tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s not forever. I promise.”

“A minute is an hour…”

“…an hour is a day…”

“…and a day is forever,” we chorused, gazing deeply into one another’s eyes, cementing the bond we had had since her birth.

Then, with a supreme effort and a breaking heart, I withdrew from my daughter’s embrace and rose to my feet. As I did so, I

heard my brother’s voice, cracked and broken, calling my name.

“Daddy.”

I returned my gaze to the little girl standing before me.

“Remember when I said only death could keep me from you?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Well, I lied. Nothing will ever keep me from my daddy.”

She smiled, and I felt my lips curling into an answering one, even as my eyes burned with another bout of oncoming tears. I

was comforted to realize she had kept the ability to make even the most devastated person smile. She was still my little

Nikkibear.

“I love you, little angel,” I whispered.

She touched her fingers to her lips, closed her fist, and tossed me her kiss, her hand flying open at the last moment.

Without thinking, mine shot out, closing about the invisible token of her love as my other returned the gesture. She caught

it, and I smiled before closing my eyes to the final vision I would ever have of my daughter.

As I felt myself being carried away by the force of my return to the world of the living, something fluttered gently in the

hand I still held to my heart.

---

Opening my eyes to the present, I gazed down at my fist through a curtain of bitter tears. Slowly, my fingers opened, one by

one.

As I looked at the butterfly I held, my heart leapt and my tears ceased. Blinking the haze from my eyes, I stared long and

hard at what I’d always known. I remembered the fluttering sensation against my skin as I was pulled back to consciousness to

face the reality of my guilt, and I smiled.

Lifting my palm, I allowed the delicate insect I held to take flight. As it passed, a wing brushed my cheek in a ghostly

remembrance of the reason for living. And as my wondering eyes followed it into the heavens, I realized that, three days of

life or not, that butterfly had just changed my life forever.

My fingers touched my cheek lightly, and I felt a weight abandon my shoulders, leaving me lighter than air. As I began to

laugh, tears of joy streamed down my face. I had found the secret to moving on, and it had been fluttering before me the

entire time.

I’ll answer you in other ways, kay?

Nikki’s words rang softly in my ears, and for the first time, I understood just what the flutter of her final kiss had been.