Chapter 6
6
Jewel
“Can you believe how green everything is up here in Oregon? Such a beautiful place. But that’s because of all the rain they get. Of course, they do suffer from drought occasionally.” Jewel had been chirping away at her daughter since they left the interstate for this less traveled highway. But Cooper’s silent treatment was ongoing. Still Jewel persisted. She’d either drive her daughter crazy with chitchat or start answering herself. “Did you ever see so many sheep? And check out those little lambs. Aren’t they adorable?”
She checked her rearview mirror to see that Cooper had put her headphones on again. Well, so much for aggravating her into a response. At least they were almost there now. As she drove through the small town of Sweet Springs, where little had changed since Jewel was a girl, she didn’t bother pointing out places of interest. She knew Cooper would probably just sneer anyway. And Jewel was fed up with trying to placate her. If Cooper wanted to act like a big baby, she’d let her.
She turned down the long driveway to her parents’ house, peering toward the barn to see if the movers had arrived yet, but there was no sign of the red-and-white truck. Just as well. Now she could supervise the unloading. She parked in front of the farmhouse and without another word to the lump in the back seat, hopped out before running up to the front door and knocking loudly. When no one answered, she let herself in. “Hello?” she called out. “It’s me. We’re here!”
She could smell something good cooking, but no one answered her greeting. She called out again then went into the kitchen to see what looked like dinner in process. But then she noticed salad splattered across the kitchen floor and an upturned bowl in the corner. “Mom!” she called out. “Where are you?” She raced all through the house but saw no sign of either of them. Jerking out her phone, she tried her mom’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. She left a quick message, then ran outside and found her mom’s car parked nearby. She started to yell even louder. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?”
She was just calling her mom’s phone again when Cooper got out of the car and approached with a curious expression. Still irritated at her daughter, Jewel ignored her as she checked around the garden then headed for the barn, calling out louder yet. She looked inside the barn and all around but, again, saw no sign of either of her parents. “What is going on here?” she asked herself. Had something happened with Dad? Perhaps he hurt himself again. Something beyond skinned-up knees? Maybe he needed medical attention.
She was just coming out of the barn, calling out again, when Cooper came over to her. “What’s up with you?” she asked. “Why are you screaming your head off?”
“Nothing’s up with me. Your grandparents are missing.”
“So what?” Cooper shrugged.
“So what?” Jewel snapped.
“They probably went someplace. Why go into conniptions?”
“My mom’s car is still here! Salad is spilled all over the kitchen floor. Something is wrong!” Jewel wanted to shake Cooper. But her phone rang with an unknown number. She answered without thinking about it. “Yes?” Jewel growled into the phone.
“Is this Jewel McKerry?” a man’s voice asked.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“This is Miguel Orosco. I’m your parents’ neighbor.”
“Oh, yes. Okay. Do you by any chance know where my parents are?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes. Here at St. John’s. In Sweet Springs.”
“The hospital?”
“Yes. ER.”
“Oh no,” she exclaimed. “Is it my dad? Is he okay?”
“Actually, it’s your mom.”
“My mom?” She felt her heart pounding. “Is she okay?”
“I, uh, I think so. I’m not sure. She’s being seen by the doctor. I’m out here in the waiting room with your dad. Your mom gave me your number when we checked her into the hospital. I would’ve called sooner, but your dad was, well, he was pretty upset.”
“Oh dear. I can imagine.” She already had her keys out. “I’m on my way.”
“Good. That should help. Your dad doesn’t exactly trust me.”
“Sorry about that. I’ll see you soon.” She was already getting into her car when she realized Cooper was sitting on the porch steps.
“Your grandma’s in the hospital,” Jewel called to her. “We need to go check on her.”
Cooper ambled over to the SUV with a mildly interested expression. “What about the mover dudes? Shouldn’t they be here soon?”
“Yeah. That’s right.” Jewel grimaced. “Can you stay here and show them where to put stuff?” She pointed to the barn. “In there, for the most part. Kind of in back, out of the way. Can you do that for me?”
Cooper shrugged. “I guess.”
“You got your phone,” Jewel reminded her. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.” Cooper’s eyes flickered with just a trace of empathy. “I hope Grandma’s okay.”
“Me too. I gotta go, Coop.” Jewel forced a smile. “Thanks for taking care of the movers. I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on.”
Cooper gave her another apathetic shrug. So much for empathy. As Jewel started the engine, she remembered a time when she would’ve asked Cooper to pray over a situation like this. Not today. Cooper would probably just make a sarcastic remark or laugh. And Jewel didn’t need that right now.
As she drove to the hospital, she prayed. “Please, Lord, let Mom be all right. Be with her and, please, help her with whatever is wrong.” Turning into downtown Sweet Springs, she wondered what exactly was wrong with her mom. An accident? Why had she dropped the salad on the floor? Had she cut herself? But Jewel hadn’t seen any blood or a knife. What had happened?
As Jewel parked near the entrance of the ER, she thought one good thing about small towns was their hospitals were never too busy. Hopefully small hospitals gave good medical attention. She hurried inside and quickly spotted her dad, waving his hands with an angst-ridden expression at a dark-haired man who appeared to be trying to calm him down. A doctor perhaps? But when she got closer, she saw the man had on dirty jeans and a torn plaid shirt. Probably the neighbor Miguel.
“Dad,” she said as she approached them, remembering how her mom coached her to use short simple sentences a few days ago. He looked at her but didn’t seem to recognize his own daughter. In fact, she barely recognized him. He looked so much older.
“It’s me, Jewel.” She reached for his hand but still saw no flicker of recognition in his eyes. Just anxiety and maybe fear. When he was upset, her mom had warned, he required extra patience.
“I’m Miguel,” the stranger told her as Dad jerked his hand out of Jewel’s grasp.
“Thank you for calling me,” she told Miguel, then turned back to her father. “It’s me, Jewel. Your daughter. I was out at the farm when Miguel called—”
“Miguel!” her dad spit out the name, shaking his finger at the man. “He hurt Honey.”
Miguel glumly shook his head. “No, sir, I did not hurt Mrs. McKerry.” He spoke to her dad but looked at Jewel, as if hoping she understood.
“Yes. You. Did.” He glared daggers at Miguel.
“Dad!” Jewel chastened her father. “Miguel is your neighbor.”
“He’s bad. He hurt Honey. And he’s a thief.”
“Dad,” she tried again, softening her tone even more. “Remember me? Your daughter? Jewel. I wouldn’t lie to you.” She placed a firm hand on his forearm, feeling him trembling beneath his flannel shirt. Was it anxiety or his illness? Or both?
“Jewel?” He squinted as if to see her better. “Yeah ... I think I know ... you.”
“Let’s go sit down.” She gently guided him to the waiting room, but he was still upset, mumbling about Miguel and what a bad, bad man he was. She hoped her dad’s behavior wasn’t frightening the woman and small girl sitting by the fish tank. They already looked agitated and probably didn’t need him going off right next to them. She glanced back at Miguel with an apologetic expression. “Talk later?” she mouthed to him. To her relief he nodded, albeit somberly, seeming to understand the difficulty of the situation.
“Let’s sit there.” She pointed to a pair of chairs by the window. It took a bit of coaxing and some physical assistance to get him to ease his tall frame down onto a chair, but then he leaned forward and, cupping his head in his hands, began to sob. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to speak words of comfort, but wasn’t sure they made any difference.
She looked up to where Miguel was maintaining a safe distance. Clearly he was stressed too. They were all out of their comfort zones. What should she do? And what was wrong with Mom? And what about Cooper? She’d only been in town about an hour and already she was in over her head. And so, for the second time today, she prayed. Silently. And suddenly, like her difficult daughter, she questioned whether this move to Oregon was really the right choice. What had she gotten herself into?
CT
This carpet is green with speckles. That’s not right. When did Honey get green, speckled carpet? Did she get this when I was in the field? That’s the color ... new hay green. Why would Honey want new hay green in here? Where is Honey? Where am I? This plastic chair is so hard, and there’s a window with cars out there. Whose cars? Who’s here? Where am I? Where is Honey? Did I say that or just think I said it?
This place smells funny. It isn’t home. Where am I? Why is my face wet? Did someone splash me? Is it raining?
This window between me and the cars is dirty. Finger smears all up and down. Probably from that little girl. She looks like a finger-smearing girl. Or maybe she smeared her nose there. Her mom should wipe her nose. Why doesn’t she wipe her nose? Is that what I smell? The little girl needs a bath. Why doesn’t that woman take her away and give her a bath? “Where’s Honey?” Did I say that or just think it? I can’t remember.
I feel someone beside me. She nudges me. “What did you say?” she asks me. Who is she? And how did she get here? “Do I know you?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m Jewel. Your daughter, Daddy. Remember me?”
I feel the fog lifting. Just a corner of it. “Jewel?” I ask her. “My Jewel?”
She smiles, and the fog lifts higher. “Yes. Your Jewel. How are you doing?”
I don’t know what to say. “Not good,” I think I say.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes are brown, or maybe green. There’s a name for that. Are they like my eyes? Is she really my little girl? She is too old.
“Jewel?” I stare at her. “Where’s Honey?”
“I think she’s with the doctor.”
“Where are we?”
“At the hospital.”
“Am I sick?”
Her mouth does something funny. What does that mean?
“Am I sick?” I say the words louder to make sure she hears me.
“Not exactly, Dad.”
She calls me Dad again. Is she really my little girl? Is she tricking me?
“Where’s Honey? Where’s my wife?” I push myself to my feet. “Why can’t I see her? I need my Honey.”
The woman stands up, reaching for my arm like she thinks I’ll fall over. Like she thinks I’m a crazy old man. I’m not. Doesn’t she know I don’t need her doggone help? “Where’s Honey?” I shout.
“Shh, Dad. You’re getting too—”
“Don’t shh me.” I jerk my arm from this bossy woman. Who does she think she is? “I want Honey.” I see the other woman pull the snot-nosed girl closer. Does she think I eat small children? Now a woman in pajama clothes comes up to me. She is round like a pumpkin with pictures of cats all over her pajama shirt.
“Can I help you?” Pumpkin Cat Woman asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Can you?”
“I work here,” she says. “You seem worried.”
“I want Honey.”
“Are you hungry? Diabetic?” She looks at the woman who says she’s my daughter. “Do you need assistance?”
“I need Honey!” I can hear the two women talking quietly. I can’t hear their words, but they are talking about me. I know it.
Pumpkin Cat Woman takes my arm. “I can get you honey,” she says. “Come with me.” Now she leads me somewhere. A hallway. Another place. A room with a couch and two chairs. Not my living room. Same green, speckled carpet. Not my carpet. “Sit down here,” she says. “I’ll get you some honey.”
I sit down, but I think Pumpkin Cat Woman is balmy. I don’t want some honey. I want my Honey. I want Honey to take me home. I want my bees. Pumpkin Cat Woman leaves, but the woman who says she’s my daughter stays right by the door. She’s looking at her phone, but I think she’s guarding the door like a century. Is that what they’re called? Century, sensory, sentry? That’s it. Sentry. Where’s Honey?
I bend over, holding onto my head with my hands so I can keep it from spinning away. It spins away sometimes. Goes off on its own without asking me first. I can’t stop it. I can’t start it. I can’t find it. Honey says it’s not my fault. It’s tricking me. But why does this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Where is Honey?
“Doing okay?” the door sentry asks.
I make my fierce face. I think I do. Honey says I can scare people. Can I scare the door sentry?
“Dad?” She steps inside the door. “Are you okay?”
“No! I am not okay. Where is my wife? I want to go home!”
“Your wife is being seen by the doctor. She’s in—”
“She does not need the doctor. She needs me. Now.”
“Mom is sick,” Sentry Woman tells me. “She needs medical attention.”
“Sick?” I try to remember what that word means. I think I heard that I am sick. Honey is not sick. Honey is Honey. “Honey isn’t sick.”
“Yes. She is, Dad. She needs help.” Sentry Woman’s arms are folded in front of her like a locked gate. I don’t think she’ll let me leave. Maybe if she turns away, I can sneak out.
I rub the sides of my head, trying to make it work. “Miguel!” I remember now. “He hurt her. He knocked her down. In the kitchen. He hit Honey.”
Now Pumpkin Cat is back. She carries a paper cup. “Tea and honey.” She hands it to me.
“Honey?” I sniff the cup. Doesn’t smell like honey.
“Have a sip. It might make you feel better.” Pumpkin Cat turns to talk to the door sentry quietly so I can’t hear. Now Sentry Woman leaves and Pumpkin Cat guards the door. She is big. I don’t think I can sneak past her.
I try a sip from the white cup. It tastes like paper. Not honey. I set the cup on the green, speckled carpet. Not home. I need to go home. The fog is thicker. I forget ... where I am ... where is home ... where is Honey? My face is all wet again. I think the roof is leaking. I need to get on my feet. I need to escape this green, speckled carpet place, away from Pumpkin Cat, away from the snotty-nosed girl. But Pumpkin Cat blocks the door. I am lost. The fog is swallowing me. Eating me alive. I need my Honey.