The next day, Victor was already down the stairs by the time the clock on the wall chimed nine. Straightening out his tie, he walked past the living room, flung his coat around his shoulders and called out a "goodbye!" to Victoria in the living room. He shut front door quickly behind him and hurried off to the church.
Victoria sat in the living room. An awkward frown on her face. Her bottom lip protruded, she almost looked like a little girl. She gulped in a trembling breath, her face wet with tears. She clutched to the little stuffed bear closer to her chest. Putting her face down close to the soft material, the tears dropped and vanished within the bear. Its black glass eyes stared out at nothing.
Walking with a purpose he hadn't felt in years, Victor made his way to the church. Past the bridge, gushing water underneath, the church stood as the tallest building in the town. He walked up the stone steps, looking off to the side where there seemed to be a dead garden. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Victor opened one of the huge doors.
The pastor was standing in between one of the pews, closer to the front doors. He looked up immediately when Victor entered. Putting the broom that he was dusting with aside, he stood up straight and walked over to greet him.
"What a surprise to see you today, Victor Van Dort. Or any day, for that matter. When was the last time you attended a sermon?" said Pastor Galswells.
Victor coughed nervously and said, "Um, well, possibly last month? Maybe?" He looked up into the scrutinizing face of the pastor. "I haven't been very good about that, have I?"
"No, you have not. But He is rather forgiving, luckily for you. Now. What has brought you here today?"
Anticipation running up his spine, Victor slowly etched out his words, "Yesterday, I was visiting my family's plot in the cemetery. I then started to walk around and I noticed a particular grave. The inscription said Emily Galswells." The pastor's eyes lit up and Victor pressed on, "Is she related to you in any way?"
The pastor turned and began to walk back to the broom he propped up on a nearby wall. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Victor Van Dort, but I don't have the time to talk about stupid theories of yours." He picked up the broom and held it out in front of him. "Now, if you will excuse me. I must get back to work."
Victor felt a reply in his throat, but he kept it there. He grudgingly turned around, dismayed for more than one reason. The door shut with a soft thud.
Pastor Galswells gripped the broom's handle tightly in his hand. The wood felt rough on his skin and he felt tiny points of pain as splinters lodged themselves into his palms. Tightlipped, he set the broom down and walked to the back of the church. Walking through a hallway, he opened a plain door and it revealed a bare bedroom. A bed, a dresser and a chair. An echoed trill of laughter bounced off of the walls.
"Aren't they pretty, Daddy?"
A seven-year-old girl looked up at him. With a smile that spread across her entire face, she ran around the garden. With the dark woods close by, the garden seemed the complete opposite. Large bushes of roses surrounded the little girl as she ran. Butterflies scattered in the air, some landing on flower petals and drinking the nectar.
"Emily, hurry up and finish playing," said Peter Galswells. He took out a pocket watch and flipped open the cover. "My lunch break is almost over and I need to go back to work."
The little girl was too busy creeping up on a particular butterfly to listen to her father. Step by step, she neared closer, her tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth. Hands outstretched, she quickly captured the butterfly. Laughing, she ran back to her father.
"What have you got there?" he asked. He pushed his black hat up away from his eyes to get a better look of what Emily was holding. Carefully, she pried her fingers away and revealed a stark white butterfly.
"Can I keep it? Please?" asked Emily gleefully. Her expectant face looked up into her father's.
He knelt down to her height. "Emily, if you keep it, it will die. It needs to be free and live with the other butterflies. If you let it go, I think both you and the butterfly will be much happier."
At first Emily looked saddened by the news and shook her head "no." Looking through her fingers, she watched the butterfly, caged. With a sigh, Emily released her hands and watched as the butterfly fluttered back into the air. She laughed as it flew back over to the other butterflies. She turned back to look at her father, her face showing a look of understanding and joy.
A door opened.
"We found the body in here," said a faceless man. In his old age, Pastor Galswells' sight and hearing had dimmed to a terrible low. No one knew. "It's Barkis Bittern. The man that recently married Victoria Everglot."
"Yes, I know. I married them," said Pastor Galswells with a sigh. "Let's see him, then."
The body had already gone through rigor mortis, the fingers curled like claws. The pastor walked solemnly up to him.
Suddenly, a curve of a cheek, the hook of the nose. Pastor Galswells pressed his eyes closer to the body's face. The lines were grimly familiar. It clicked into place.
"You!"
As Pastor Galswells sat on the bed, his arms felt heavy. Palms up, he slowly brought his face down. Fingers hiding his eyes, they seeped tears. A clock on the wall ticked by the minutes. He whispered incomprehensible words and phrases, only leading him into a worse state.
"I couldn't let her go," he heaved a great breath and gulped back a sob, "but she left me anyway."