Butterfly Serials 2.3
History Book Club & Germany Adventure; Butterfly Serials 2.3
© 2024 by Amber Wright
Date: June 25, 1973
Place: Madison, Indiana
It had been exactly one month since downtown Madison has been declared a historic district. May 25th. Why didn't they wait until June? Why not her birthday, to be exact? Bibi Jacobs' jetlag was over and she was feeling better than ever. So she wouldn't cry over spilled milk over the wrong date of the historic district.
Because exactly one month later—today, June 25th!—they started their very own history club. History book club. It was going to be a mixture of their own book club, the town's history club and good old Mrs. Joan's “book club” secret detective agency). High time they make a splash!
Bibi, Dinah and Liza pinned their butterfly pins on with a solemn air. Little did they know how real this new Butterfly Girl Club was going to be. Just like the old club, but different. 1970s style.
“Haven't we changed our minds enough about this club?” Liza scowled. “First, it was a literal butterfly club where we catch butterflies in a jar and read our books until the butterflies stopped flapping. Then it was where we had to wear butterfly shirts. Now a history book club! What next?”
“The town has a history district,” Dinah argued, “and so should our club. After all, those diaries we got for our birthday gave me the idea.”
“I like it,” Bibi agreed, loving history despite them getting trapped into it a few times reading the diaries. “Liza, don't put a damper on our festivity! Now, let's read our club rules again by Dinah, president of our chapter.”
Dinah cleared her throat importantly. “Members of our club, we have only three words to state our club rules. Courage, confidence, compassion.”
Liza arched a brow, looking bored.
“Courage to solve mysteries, confidence in our abilities to be the best we can be, and compassion for each other. Any questions?”
“Who gets to be the event designer?” Liza brightened.
“You!” Dinah laughed, “Or we'd never hear the end of it! Bibi, of course, is librarian and will hold us accountable for book borrowing and seeing us through with all of our adventures.”
“Of course!” Bibi grinned. She loved her role in the group. “Now, my question— How are we going to attract our butterflies like Mrs. Joan did? They had a real war going on.”
“By offering them free chocolates?” Liza took another bite of the Hershey bar she usually kept in her pocket.
“Stop thinking of your stomach, Liza.” Dinah frowned. “How about we brainstorm and keep voting on our ideas until we find a winner.”
They fell quiet, scribbling on index cards. Later, they'd scramble them up and take votes on each one.
Bibi went to the kitchen to get cookies and milk for them when she saw Mom leaning over the counter, listening to the radio. Mom looked up as Bibi grabbed three purple plastic cups from the cabinet.
“It's the fourth presidential election in Ireland today,” Mom explained at all the gibberish coming from the radio.
“And we have a winner!” the newscaster was shouting in a heavy Irish accent, “Let us welcome our very own Erskine Hamilton Childers!”
“Maybe I'll get to meet him this fall!” Bibi rushed back to the girls with cookies and milk to celebrate Ireland's new president.
Dinah and Liza were fussing over something.
“Ireland's got a new president!” Bibi interrupted them and started eating a cookie. “I plan on meeting him when we go to Ireland.”
“Talking about traveling, Bibi.” Dinah opened her closet. “We're going to pick out your clothes for Germany now so you don't surprise us with your funny outfits.”
“You have to wear this dress!” Liza pulled out one of those Christmas gifts, a frilly mauve and cream floral.
Bibi groaned. She hated dressing up but between Dinah and Liza, she'll be dressed like a model. They never understood her love for denim.
• • •
Bibi stepped off the plane onto German soil and scrunched her nose. So this is Germany, enemy territory. Why did the Isaacs choose this country—of all places!—to go for their summer vacation?
They settled into their hotel suite. Dinah and Liza were fascinated by all the German things.
“If you weren't my cousins, I'd never speak to you girls again.” Bibi lay flat on the bed, staring up at the dirty ceiling—apparently stained from cigarette smoke. “Bet this bed has lice in it.”
“Stop being so hateful,” Dinah pulled out the Diary she'd brought. “You sound as bad as Dr. Holtz!”
“He must be one lucky fella,” Bibi glared at the girls perched on the big windowsill which was overlooking the busy streets of Munich. “Where did they go?”
“My parents went out to eat,” Dinah flipped through the diary. “Mom's ordered supper for us, which should be here any time. Shall I read or not?”
“Wait until we get our food, at least.”
“Might make it more interesting, flying through time on empty stomachs!”
There was a knock on the door and Bibi ran to answer it. Even though it was every inch German, she thought their supper did smell and look good.
“Danke,” Bibi shut the door on the maid's face with a strange little cap on.
Liza helped her wheel the cart loaded with fried potatoes, rye bread with melted cheese, and sausages, sausages and more sausages. There was even crackers with slices of cold cheese and cold sausages. Each of them got an apple and a tanker of ice water.
After they gobbled up the food, Bibi admitted. “It's not quite as bad here as I thought it'd be. But it's still Germany.”
“Here you go, Princess Bibi.” Dinah handed her the Diary. “Start on this page—it's in France.”
Bibi preferred France. “After D-Day, it was safe to say nothing was the same again. The wall of terror had been cracked, and where there was a crack there was always a leak.”
Tap, tap, tap came from the window.
“June 10, 1944. We'll never know who it was, but we'll never forget what happened...”
The tapping on the window grew louder.
Bibi saw a little white face peering in through the dirty panes—a little boy was crying. He turned around and started running.
Bibi needed to know what all happened so she followed him. Suddenly, they were in the middle of a forest in Normandy.
“Why are we here for?” Bibi whirled round, searching the forest. “There's nothing but that little shed for miles.”
“Did you see that cute little boy crying in the window? Looked German,” sniffled Dinah.
“Dinah, if you were really back in the 1940s, you'd be a Nazi for sure!” Liza rolled her eyes.
“One of Hitler's brides,” Bibi added.
Dinah started protesting when twigs snapped behind them. They whirled around. A woman carrying a clay jar marched down the path with her head down low. The woman clearly did not see them; and she peeked sideways before she dashed onto a side path.
“Wonder where she's going and what's in that jar?” Liza sounded confused.
“War secrets, no doubt.” Confidence oozed from Bibi. “Secret maps, weapons, instruments—”
“Weapons?” Dinah eyed her strangely. “What sort of weapon could you hide in a clay jar?”
“A handgun, for one!”
“Shh,” Liza backtracked her steps. “Let's see if that little boy is out of the shed yet.”
“He might be property of war—a little German boy or something,” calculated Dinah.
“I think he's French,” Liza wrinkled her nose.
“Probably a mix of both,” Bibi's nerves were on edge. Where in the world were they going? “Don't trust either. People with accents make my skin crawl.”
“Well, the dead ones are okay.” Liza led the way.
“Peace and love, kids! You really want people to die—Liza, Bibi?”
“They killed people!” snapped Liza.
“Six million Jews plus—” Bibi was interrupted by a man running past. She shut right up.
“Why they all in a rush?” Liza glared after him.
“There's a war on, in case you forgot.” Dinah marched on with intent. “I'm gonna rescue that little German boy in the shed. Probably kidnapped him from a Nazi officer's house and—”
“Imagination station Isaacs,” Liza slowed down but still marched onward. “Bibi, let's go see what's in that chalet. I think I spy some real action going on over there. Look!”
The shed behind the chalet exploded and out poured a torrent of gray uniforms. With men in them, of course. Dinah was all eyes, the uniform lover she was.
“Where's the little boy?” Dinah whined.
Bibi hopped over a low stone fence, feeling like a regular Jo March, and ran off to the scene of the crime to find out what exactly happened.
The little boy crawled out from behind the shed and ran into the woods.
“He's over here, girls!” Bibi chased him hard.
Briars snagged her faded denim skirt—and she realized she was still wearing her 1970s clothes. She was glad she was invisible. She didn't have time for questions off the locals. The chase ended by a bubbling brook, deep in the forest.
Between dense shrubs and tree branches, Bibi saw a faint outline of the sea. “Got a sea ahead of us, the Nazis behind us and forest all around us. We're in a fix, back in time or not!”
“There's the little German boy!” Dinah pointed and ran ahead.
“French!” muttered Liza.
“Foreigner!” Bibi rolled her eyes, wishing she was back in...Germany? She growled out, “I'm choosing our next summer vacation—and our next birthday wish more wisely!”
Why on earth was Lola Hill running from the chalet with a big dark blue cloak over her? Lola ducked into a shed further down the path, handed a brown envelope to a man wearing a French beret and old work boots. He looked grim.
“I wasn't here, sugar plum.” Lola met the man's eyes evenly. “Don't forget that.”
The man stuffed the envelope into his jacket. He left Lola standing there in her ugly nurse's shoes and staring into the winding path.
The sun was setting through the trees. The sky glowed like fire and blood, woven together like a bleeding shroud.
Gertie met Lola and together they chatted about nothing in particular until they disappeared out of sight. Bibi's pulse quickened. Where did the girls go? What were they doing here in this mysterious chalet?
“His name is Tob,” said Dinah excitedly. “He lives!”
“Happy Dinah,” smirked Liza. “You had a crush on him—until you realized he was too old for you. Remember?”
“He's adorable.”
“Stop drooling and let's get closer. Oh, I just saw Lola and Gertie back there. Lola was giving this French man an envelope. Looked pretty serious. Was she a spy?”
“Her uncle owned a chalet and French,” Liza was wrinkling up her nose again.
“The chalet! Back there?”
“Her uncle's chalet was massive, according to our mothers. Lola never shut up about it, as we well remember every Christmas party she comes to.”
“Maybe we can ask Mrs. Joan who all of her butterfly agents were. This is getting exhausting trying to figure out everyone!”
“Elementary, my dear Watsons.” Dinah arched one eyebrow with a sour expression. “We shall soon find out. Thought you girls were smart!”
“We are, smarty pants!”
Lola and Gertie were long gone but Tob was still running ahead of them, following the man with the French beret who Lola had been talking to.
The French man stopped and glared at the little boy. “I told you, Tob, run back to your mother!”
“I come too, Papa.” Tob hugged his tattered teddy bear and his blond curls whipped in the wind.
“Go back to your mother!”
Tob ran off to the bushes and Bibi saw him crying into his teddy bear. She watched as the French man stepped through the trees, meet a couple of Nazis and then there was a shot.
Footsteps died away.
“Papa, papa!” Tob shouted, running towards a thicket of evergreen trees.
It smelled of spicy green.
Tob was showing his father his bear. “Papa, see Bearly? Bearly loves you, too. Are you sleeping, Papa?”
The French man's eyes were closed in peace. Only the stiff lips showed he'd said his last prayer.
Tob ran off and they chased after him again.
“He's gonna get himself killed!” Dinah led the chase, huffing for breath.
“He doesn't,” Liza reminded her.
Bibi felt like blowing those Nazis brains out. “The nerve of those pig-eyed pigs!” She knew what happened next.
They came upon a sleeping village. Nothing was unusual. It looked like any other small town. Daily life was quiet, routine, normal. But little Tob ran with all his might to a house on the end of the block.
“Mama! Papa—he's sleeping in the woods!”
The French woman jerked her son inside the door, muttering and scolding the little boy.
“She doesn't believe him,” Liza was shocked.
“Open up!” Bibi shouted and banged on the door. Was little Tob still crying? She beat down the door and find the house empty.
A commotion started on the street. Rumbling cars, trucks, tanks. Snipers picking off villagers as they stood on their front steps. They were herded into one big group, machine guns aimed at them. They exchanged bewildered looks. This wasn't in the plot.
“Where are your men?” barked a Nazi in a crisp gray uniform, strutting past the rows of women and children. “We know you're hiding them. Show us them and all of you will go free.”
Not a woman stirred.
They were brought to a big barn and every door clanked as it was locked.
“What's happening?” Liza shouted above the noisy din. “How do we get out? Dinah! Bibi! Help us get out!”
“This is the Oradour-sur-Glane massacre,” Bibi said, her lips as dry as the straw around them.
“Where's Tob?” Dinah looks desperately around the building stuffed with women and children of all ages, shapes and sizes. “I think his stuffed bear has an important message in it. I saw his father put it in there.”
Bibi gulped. All the doors are locked and every window had a Nazi with a machine gun guarding it, and there was no way out. “Looks like this is where our journey has taken us. Gonna be dead soon.”
“Cheerful, aren't you?” Dinah clacked her teeth together, frowning darkly. “Doesn't everyone die?”
“Everyone,” Bibi nodded miserably.
“Besides us,” Liza reminded them. “Let's at least listen to everyone else's final words.”
They fell into a hushed, sacred silence. Death would soon swallow up the entire company. So many unnamed heroes, forgotten, the unsung people who played their part in the war.
“Shut your baby up!” a woman screamed.
A commotion went on for a few minutes until a girl about nine stood up on the hayloft. Her voice trembled as she begins. “If we fight each other, there won't be nothing left of us. If we fight together, we'll win. Right?”
Bibi's eyes stung.
“All I can remember is war and fighting. When we become bad like our enemies and hate each other, what do we fight for?”
Another girl steps up, about twelve. “As Paul, one of our fighters, said. We don't fight for a flag but for a people—every one of us. If we fight each other, we've lost our victory.”
“What does victory mean—death?” somebody shouted. “Our death or theirs?”
“My papa died last month,” one boy piped up. “I can't remember when there was no war. But I'm not going to give in so that my papa would have died for nothing. They're fighting for us! We can't betray them!”
“What about the babies who can't speak for themselves?” one woman's voice shook as she tried hushing her infant on her shoulder.
“I'm telling them where they are!” a woman beat against the wooden barn door. “Open up!”
“What happens next?” Liza cried.
“They die,” Dinah whispered hoarsely. “They all die. Every woman. Every child.”
Bibi bit her trembling lip.
So this is what it was like to hate. To be hated. To be slaughtered like animals. Only, this time there would be no instant death. The stench of smoke spiraled down from the eaves as torches were thrown into the barn filled with French civilians.
Babies cried.
Women prayed.
Children shouted.
Bibi sunk to her knees in a corner, hugging a three-legged stool used for milking cows. She bit her lip harder. The flames were snaking their way down the walls, through the eaves. Flames licked the hay that filled the building. People were set alight.
“Stop them!” Bibi clamped her eyes shut. “Stop them! They're all gonna die!”
The burning stench only grew stronger.
A strange hiss shook the barn and she opened her eyes to take in the scene before her. Too many bodies to count. Too much horror to comprehend. This was hate.
The little girl was still speaking from the hayloft in a quieter husky voice now. “When will the fighting stop? When will people stop fighting each other?”
A pause.
“When will people love each other again?” the little girl's voice faded and the hayloft became a blur of smoke and flames.
“No, stop them!” Bibi clutched wildly at the splintered pieces of wood as she crawled through the fire. “Help us, somebody! Stop them!”
Bibi clawed through the burning rubble and up the ladder. She could see the little blue checkered dress in a blur of smoke.
Little bare feet.
A tiny French rag doll.
Silent.
Bibi sink in a heap. There was nothing she could do for hate had created the mess they lived and were dying in. People with accents couldn't get along with people with other accents.
“Please God, help me find my papa in heaven when I get there,” a little voice said beside her as it choked and strangled for air. “Help me find my papa.”
A teddy bear landed beside her.
“Tob!” Bibi shouted through the fire, crawling forward. Always forward. Why was the floor shaking and so hot?
“Bibi!” Liza shouted in her ear, “We have to get out. Come on!”
“This way!” Dinah was below them. “There's a crack in the wall now we can crawl through!”
Bibi thought she saw a figure disappear through the outside wall as she staggered down the ladder with Liza helping her.
“Hurry up, girls!”
The barn's roof started to crumble.
• • •
“Bibi!” the girls were shaking her.
Bibi wept like a baby. “Stop them, stop them. They're all gonna die.”
“It's all over,” Dinah's eyes were red. “It's all over, Bibi. Drink some water.”
“It's not over—they'll all still hating. Love didn't win. They're still fighting and hating each other.”
“They're gonna hate each other til the end too.”
“It's not about religion, is it?” Bibi dried her eyes. “It's about jealousy, greed, who's gonna make the most money. Who profits the most off of the misfortunes of the other person!”
“But love is what'll make this world right again,” Dinah poured them all a glass of water and handed them their apples. “The next entry is a German girl called Ria Baden.”
“I've decided I like Germany, after all.” Bibi gulped her tears away. “Maybe we can go to the places where this German girl went.”
Liza quickly scanned the entry, “Can we save that one for later? I'm dying to know how Joan and Elwood met, and here it is! Love at first sight or might, Joan scribbles, which I can barely read. Here, Bibi, try to decipher her writing!”
“My eyes are too bleary. Let's go outside in the fresh air!” Bibi grabbed her crocheted sweater and headed towards the door. “Don't forget the key!”
It was summer but it was no hot, humid USA.
The sky looked bluer. The air felt lighter. And her heart felt less heavy. Funny how looking back made you look forward, instead of wallowing in self pity or petty arguments.
Today will be the first day of tomorrow.
• • •
Later, Bibi scribbled down notes for their club and thought happily. Now we are ready to recruit new butterflies!
HISTORY BOOK CLUB TO DO LIST:
Read history so you don't repeat it
Study nationalities and be kinder
Become who you want to meet
And always bring chocolate!
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