Chapter 19
19
Honey
Only minutes later, Honey heard the unmistakable sound of CT making a big fuss about something. “Excuse me,” she told Donna with a slight roll of her eyes. “I’m afraid I’ll need to take my husband home.”
“Oh, Honey.” Donna patted her shoulder. “I understand.” Then as Honey hurried away, Donna held up her hand like a phone and mouthed “call me.”
Promising herself she would, Honey rushed outside to discover CT over by the barbecue area now. This time, he was shaking a fist at Miguel and yelling. “You thief! I won’t eat poisoned food.”
“Daaad!” Jewel yelled at him. “Calm down.”
“I won’t!” CT shouted back at her. “I won’t eat poison.”
“I already told you there’s no poison!” Jewel shouted back. “You’re imagining things.”
“Poison!” he yelled loudly enough to get the attention of everyone on the property.
“CT,” Honey said as calmly as she could. “Let’s go.”
“Yes!” He continued to glare at Miguel. “I won’t eat his poison.”
“Miguel isn’t poisoning anything,” Honey replied. “Let’s go, CT. Now.” She spoke louder now, even though she knew volume never helped. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and she felt blood rushing up her neck. This was not good for her blood pressure. She knew it. And yet, what could she do?
CT reached for a knife and waved it threateningly.
“Put that down,” she told him with all the authority she could muster. “ Now! ” Then she actually slugged him in the arm. “I mean it, CT. Put that down!”
To her relief, he set down the knife and turned to her with a gaping mouth. “Huh?”
“We’re going home.” She grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the side yard. “This way. Let’s go now.” Without giving him opportunity to respond or balk, she tugged, pulled, and shoved him through the yard and around to the driveway. But by the time they reached the car, she was boiling mad. “I can’t believe you,” she muttered as she got into the driver’s seat.
“Huh?” He slowly got in on the other side, huffing and puffing as he maneuvered his feet inside. “Honey?”
“I’m so mad.” She started the engine.
“Mad?” He looked at her with that innocent little boy expression. She knew it was genuine, that he really didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but she still felt angry.
“You behaved terribly,” she scolded. “Miguel would never poison anyone!”
She watched his expression change—going from the wounded boy to the angry man—and she regretted mentioning Miguel’s name. “Oh, forget it,” she said as she backed out. “Never mind.”
“Miguel is a thief,” CT growled. “He put poison in our food.”
“No, he did not,” she whispered, driving too fast down the driveway and feeling bad for the dust cloud she was leaving behind them. Fortunately, what little breeze was blowing pushed it away from the house.
“He did!” CT’s voice grew louder. “He put poison in our food.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She had just slowed down to turn onto their road when CT opened the door and started to get out.
“Stop that,” she yelled, but he wasn’t listening. With one foot dragging in the gravel, she knew he could fall out, so she stopped and threw her hands in the air. “Fine.” She shook her head. “You want out? Get out. I don’t care!”
He gave her a questioning look and then, with a defiant expression, he climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut. And truly not caring, she drove home. Their house was easily visible from here. Perhaps a walk would do him good, and it would give her time to cool off. She needed to cool off. She hated to imagine what her blood pressure might be reading right now. She could feel a throbbing sensation high in her chest, and her ears were ringing. She needed to calm down.
She parked in front of the house and practiced the deep breathing techniques her doctor had shown her as she went inside. She continued doing this as she went to the kitchen and poured a glass of cold water. Sitting at the table, feeling slightly numb, she took small sips of the water and continued breathing slowly. Inhale for four seconds, hold it there for four seconds, then exhale for four seconds followed by a sip of water. She did this again and again until the glass was empty and she finally felt a tiny bit better.
But as she sat there, she wondered if she would really care if her blood pressure went so high that it snuffed out her life. Wouldn’t the next life be better than living like this? Jewel and Cooper could handle CT without her ... or help him to get into some form of assisted care. And she would be free ... free at last, thank God Almighty, she’d be free at last.
Of course, these thoughts were followed by a flood of tears. How had she come to this? Did she really not care about CT? The man she’d promised to love in sickness and in health, the man she’d committed to love till death did they part? She wanted to abandon him now? Like this? She reached for a paper napkin and blotted her tears and wiped her nose.
“Dear God, help me.” She prayed the same words over and over between loud sobs. But she meant them as much as any other prayer she’d ever prayed. “Please, dear God, help me.” She wasn’t sure how long she sat there blubbering like that, sobbing and praying and going through a lot of paper napkins, but finally she wondered what had become of CT.
She hadn’t heard him come into the house, but she looked around just in case. Not seeing him anywhere inside, she went out to the front porch and gazed out across the green alfalfa field where she assumed he’d cut across to get home. The sun was low in the sky, promising a pretty sunset, but CT was nowhere in sight. Had he gone onto the road and started trekking off somewhere, deciding to run away like a naughty four-year-old? She wouldn’t put it past him. She called out his name, but there was no answer. Just the sound of magpies in the trees. She glanced to the Oroscos’ house where she imagined the party in full swing. She hoped Jewel and Cooper weren’t worried. She’d warned them that she and CT might not make it too long there. And she’d been right.
She gazed toward the barn and outbuilding. He could very likely be hiding out in one of them. She wouldn’t put it past him. It was a good way to punish her. And he did that sometimes. The barn was the most likely since he’d been grumbling about Jewel’s changes to his precious barn just today, as if he really used it for anything these days. Perhaps he was in there rearranging Jewel’s paints and easels and things ... again. Hopefully he wasn’t making a mess of it. She set out to look around.
CT
Miguel wants to kill me. I know it. He wants my farm. He has poison. I saw it on the table. It was red. He wants to kill me. They all want to kill me. Where is my gun? I want my gun. It’s in the house. I want my truck. I will get in my truck before Miguel steals it. I will get my gun and my truck. Where are my keys? My keys! Who took them? They’re not in my pockets. Nothing in my pants pockets. Nothing! Who took my things? My wallet? Where is my wallet? Miguel took it. I know it. He is a thief. He should go to jail.
No keys in my shirt pocket. What is this shirt? Where did it come from? It’s not my shirt. Who put it on me? I don’t own a shirt with flowers on it. Not me. I’m a farmer. I wear farm shirts with snaps. The snaps on this shirt don’t work. Why can’t I work these snaps! I don’t want this stupid shirt. Don’t want to wear flowers. Flowers are for girls. I’m not a girl. Must get rid of this shirt. Miguel’s shirt. He likes girl shirts. He is weird. He has poison.
He poisoned the food. Won’t eat poison food. Why do they want to kill me? What did I do to deserve this? I am not a bad man. I want my Honey. Where is my Honey? Did she give me to Miguel? She likes Miguel. Why does she like a thief? What is wrong? What is wrong? Why is it like this? I’m not a bad man. I want my Honey.
Honey
On the edge of desperation, Honey emerged from the barn and scanned the surrounding landscape again, looking in all directions. She’d already searched every outbuilding twice, even checking the hayloft in the barn. She screened her eyes against the setting sun with her hands and yelled out his name. Her throat was raspy from calling to him so many times.
Just as she was about to give up and call for help on her phone, she noticed movement in the green field to the west. Something fluttered in the air like a flag before disappearing. Was it her imagination? She stared at the spot and called out for CT. It suddenly fluttered again, a flash of something above the tops of the knee-high alfalfa plants. She wondered if it was a pheasant or a turkey getting a last meal before the sun went down. But then it appeared again, like a flag of turquoise and white. And now she remembered CT’s Hawaiian shirt with its big flowers. Was he using it to flag her attention? Perhaps he’d fallen down in the alfalfa and hurt himself. Maybe he’d broken something and was unable to stand or walk.
She ran to the field, clumsily clomping through the thick alfalfa plants while trying to reach the spot where she’d glimpsed his shirt. “CT!” she yelled again. Why had she let him walk off like that on his own? She knew better! Poor CT, he did not deserve this.
“CT,” she called yet again as she trudged through the field. “I’m coming!”
There was the flapping of that shirt again. He was flagging her. Still calling out, she tried to run, then realized how easy it would be to trip among the thick plants. That was probably how CT had fallen.
Finally, she reached him. Flat on his back, he was shirtless and dirty, looking up at her with a lost expression and a tear-streaked face. And his jeans were wet.
“Oh, CT.” She knelt at his side. “What happened?”
“I fell down,” he muttered.
“Are you hurt?”
“Uh-huh.” He pointed to his right leg. “My foot.”
She cuffed his pant leg to examine him. His ankle was quite swollen. He winced as she checked to see if anything seemed broken. “I think you sprained it,” she explained.
“Hurts.”
“I’m sure it does.” She looked around the sea of green, trying to decide what to do. The sky was growing dusky. She could call Jewel to bring help, but she hated to disrupt her pleasant evening. The image of Miguel and Jewel working together at the barbecue had warmed Honey’s heart. “If I help you, CT, do you think you can walk?”
“I dunno.” He sat up and frowned. “I think so.”
“Okay then.” She picked up his ball cap and stuck it on his head.
“I got wet.”
“I know, sweetie.” She put her arm snugly beneath his arms and then got herself into a squatting position. “It’s okay. I’ll help you get to your feet.”
“Okay.”
“Just put your weight on your left leg, okay?”
“Which leg?”
She pointed to his left leg, instructing him and hoping he could follow her directions. But it felt like a comedy of errors. It took several tries and a few loud yelps, but she finally got him up. Worried that they might both topple down again, she remained close, holding him steady as he held on to her tightly.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Uh-huh. Think so.”
“Want to try walking?” She attempted to adjust her stance, but he wouldn’t let go of his snug hold.
“Honey?”
“Yeah?” She looked up at him.
“Thank you.” He gazed lovingly into her eyes. “I can’t live without you.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“I love my Honey.” He pulled her even closer.
“I know you do, CT. I love you too.”
“I’m sorry ... I messed up.”
She wasn’t sure which mess he meant exactly, but it didn’t matter. “It’s okay. You can’t really help it.”
“I know ... I’m goofy.”
“Yeah, sometimes.” She felt her eyes filling with tears again. “I guess we’re both goofy sometimes.”
“I don’t want to be goofy.” He used his thumb to wipe one of her tears. “I’m sorry, Honey.”
“I know.”
“Will I be like this for ... ever ... always?” he asked in the most serious tone she’d heard him use in a long time. Almost like the old CT. “Will I be like this all the time?”
The lump in her throat grew painful now. It felt like her heart was breaking, and she wanted to just sob with abandon. “Like ... what?” she asked hoarsely. Did he mean falling down, getting hurt, wetting his pants, having bad manners at the Oroscos’ ... or something else?
“My brain ... doesn’t work right. Is it broken?”
“Yes, it does have a problem.”
“I want an answer, Honey.”
“Okay.” She braced herself.
“Will it get better?”
She hugged him tighter, then buried her head into his chest, praying for strength before looking up at him. “One way or another it will get better.” Of course, she was thinking of heaven and how everyone would be made whole again, but she didn’t think CT wanted to hear that just now. And she didn’t think she could bring herself to say those words anyway. To speak of heaven was to speak of death. It was not a subject CT cared to talk about.
“I will get better?” He sounded hopeful.
“Yes, someday you will. But it’s getting dark. We should get to the house.” And with her arm supporting him around his waist and his around her shoulders, she helped him limp back to the house. By the time she got him into his recliner, they were both exhausted. Physically and emotionally. She knew what had transpired between the two of them in the alfalfa field was a genuine connection and not something she got much of anymore. It was a truly precious moment. Yet in the same moment, it felt like a dull, rusty knife had sliced through her heart. But maybe that was the reality of genuine love—hard and good just went together.