The Butterfly Box(212)

‘Federica?’ he replied, and his voice was carried on the wind.

‘Sam!’ she shouted, walking towards him briskly.

The dogs leapt on her with their tails wagging their entire bodies with enthusiasm and their tongues flopping outside their salivating mouths, breathless and exhausted. She patted their sodden coats, happy that the rain on her face



disguised her nervousness.

‘Federica!’ he called, approaching her. She looked up and blinked at him to clear the rain from her vision. ‘When did you get back?’ he asked in surprise.

‘I—’ she began, but the ardour caught in her throat and prevented her from speaking. She looked down at the dogs and patted them again because suddenly she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Sam noticed that her hand was shaking. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, stepping closer.

She nodded and raised her eyes. She placed her trembling fingers on her lips and swallowed. She wanted to tell him she loved him but all she could do was stare at him mutely while the emotion mounted in her chest.



Sam placed his hand on her arm. ‘Did you come back for me?’ he asked.

Federica recognized the hope in his voice and she nodded frantically. ‘I love you,’ she whispered but her voice was swallowed up by the wind. Sam cocked his head. ‘I love you,’ she repeated, grabbing the lapels of his coat and gazing into his grey eyes with longing. Sam needed no other confirmation of her devotion. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her dripping face. She felt the warmth of his mouth and the rough neglect of his face and closed her eyes so

that nothing would distract her from his love.

When Sam made love to Federica in the small room in the attic of the house she realized that she was experiencing for the first time in her life the most intense physical expression of true love. He held her with confidence and gazed into her eyes as if unable to believe that she was really there, reciprocating feelings that he had hidden for so long. Every kiss was a demonstration of his affection, every caress delivered with loving hands. They laughed and talked and then when the weight of their feelings overcame them they cried. So many years of pining prevented Sam from falling asleep. All he could do was watch her soft face while she slept and mentally stroke her until the force of his thoughts penetrated her dreams and she smiled.

Federica opened her eyes onto a different world. She heard the barking of the dogs in the driveway below as the postman threw a couple of Bonios out of his window for them to run after, then made a hasty dash for the porch before beating them back to his car and slamming the door behind him. She heard the tyres on the gravel and then a couple of grating gear-changes as he sped out of the driveway. She stretched luxuriously as her eyes adjusted to the bright

sunlight that streamed in through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the unfamiliar walls of a room she had only seen once before, when Molly and Hester had first introduced her to Marmaduke the skunk. Then with a blush she brought her hand up to her face and touched the hot afterglow of love that radiated from her cheeks and she smiled with happiness. She recalled his caresses, his kisses and then the joyous feeling afterwards, as she lay in his arms, that she had finally found love.

She turned to discover a small bunch of early bluebells on the pillow where he had slept, together with a worn brown book. She sat up and brought the flowers to her nose where the scent of spring and the taste of dew made her heart inflate with delight. Then she looked at the book. It was dog-eared and shabby. The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. She opened the cover to discover that it was Nuno’s own book with verses encircled in his own unsteady hand and comments written into the margins. She recognized the poetry as the source of the notes Sam had sent her. Then she noticed a bookmark and opened it where indicated. A few lines were highlighted in pencil. She read them carefully, then to fully understand their meaning she read them again.

Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

When Sam entered her room with a tray of breakfast Federica was clutching the bluebells to her nose and reading Nuno’s book. She looked up and smiled at him, a smile at once tender and flirtatious. He placed the tray on the dresser and climbed onto the bed beside her. They didn’t need to speak for their faces shone with feelings that they could never put into words. He drew her into his arms and knew that this time he would never let her go.

It was a few years before Federica Appleby rediscovered the butterfly box in the back of one of the cupboards in their cottage just outside Polperro.