Chapter 22
22
Jewel
Life was calmer than usual the next few days, allowing Jewel to get her barn studio back in order, complete with a padlock on the door. But she knew it was just a matter of time before Dad would be back on his feet, prowling the farm, looking for something to “rearrange.” Already, he was limping around the house with the help of an old cane Cooper had discovered in the attic. Naturally, Cooper was eager to have Grandpa mobile again since she loved working with the bees but still needed some coaching.
“I think it’s almost time to harvest honey,” Cooper told Jewel as they cleaned up the breakfast dishes. It was the second time she’d mentioned this.
“Didn’t you and Grandpa just do it shortly after we got here? Is it really ready again?”
“That was spring honey, Mom. This is summer honey.”
“But it was June.”
“Yes, Mom.” Cooper’s tone was edged with impatience. “But the bees collected the pollen and made the honey in the springtime. So that honey was different than summer honey.”
“Interesting. Can the bees really work fast enough to already have honey ready to harvest?” Jewel set the last plate in the dishwasher.
“Yeah. Now that the lavender is in full bloom, the bees have lots of pollen and can produce lots more honey. Better quality too.”
Jewel paused to study her daughter. “How do you know all this?”
“From the book Grandpa gave me to read. Plus,” she said, lowering her voice, “I took a peek at a comb yesterday, and it looked pretty full.”
“Did you tell Grandpa?”
“Not yet. I was afraid he might try to hobble out there and trip over his cane and turn it into a big mess.”
“Good thinking.”
“But I’m not sure I should do it alone.” Cooper frowned. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”
“Don’t you think the honey can wait?”
“I guess.”
“Well, I’d offer to help you, Coop, but the bees scare me. And I’m worried they’ll sense my fear and get all excited.”
“Grandma offered to help too. She’s done it with Grandpa before. But she said her last time was last summer. And he could tell her what to do because his brain was working better then.” Cooper put the milk carton away. “I feel like she’s not so comfortable with it now. Although she said she’d get the honey in the jars and label them and all that, like she usually does. And maybe we can even start selling it in town.”
“So does she think it’s time to harvest now?”
“She said their first summer harvest was about this time last year. Plus, it’s warmer than usual. That means more pollen and more honey.”
Jewel appreciated her daughter’s enthusiasm and knowledge, but she still felt uneasy about Cooper removing honey from the hives ... possibly being attacked by bees. She didn’t want to be a helicopter mom, but it was unnerving. “Do you think it could wait a few days? I mean, Grandpa’s healing up pretty fast. He could be well in another day or two. Then he could help.”
“I guess.”
“Then please wait.” Jewel frowned. “But tell me the truth. Did Grandpa really understand what he was doing the last time? He didn’t get confused or anything? I know there are a lot of steps. What if he messes one up?”
Cooper shrugged. “He seemed okay to me. And I’ve been reading about it and looking up videos on YouTube. I honestly think I could do it by myself, but having an extra set of hands would make it lots easier. I already asked Anna, but she’s allergic to bees. Can you imagine being allergic to bees? I’d hate that.”
Jewel patted Cooper’s shoulder. “Well, I’m really impressed by how smart you are about all this bee biz. But I’d still appreciate it if you waited. I bet Grandpa would too. He probably enjoys harvesting honey.”
Cooper nodded. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll wait.” She picked up the cooling tray she’d been rinsing. “Guess I’ll go set this up before it gets too warm out.”
Jewel was just closing the dishwasher when her mom came into the kitchen, letting out a long sigh.
“Something wrong?”
Mom gave a forced-looking smile. “Just your dad. Up to his tricks.”
“What’s he done now?”
“I made the mistake of organizing his dresser for him.”
“Why is that a mistake?”
Mom poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down. “Probably because I labeled the drawers. I get so tired of trying to hunt down his socks and T-shirts and boxers after he rearranges everything. I thought if I labeled the drawers, it might help maintain some order. Then I put all his clean laundry in the right places. I hoped it would keep him from constantly asking me where something was.”
“Seems like a good idea to me.”
Mom sipped her coffee, then shook her head. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
“He got mad. Told me I was treating him like a child.”
Jewel laughed. “Well, he acts like a child.”
“That’s true. But he was insulted. He ripped off all the labels and dumped out all the drawers. Now our bedroom is a giant mess.”
“Oh, Mom.” Jewel patted her back. “I’m sorry.”
“I told him to clean it up.”
“Good.”
“But I doubt he will. And if he does, who knows where he’ll put things. We may never find anything again.” She looked up with misty eyes. “But maybe it doesn’t matter. For all I care, he can go commando.”
Jewel laughed.
“Sometimes I think I should just step back, let him make his messes and live in them and suffer the consequences. I used to think that was a good way for kids to learn.”
“Do you think it would work with Dad?”
Mom slowly shook her head. “No. By tomorrow he won’t even remember what happened today. Consequences are meaningless to him. So it’s pretty much pointless. Besides, if I let his messes remain, I have to live in them too. And I can only take so much chaos.”
“It’s a pickle for sure.” Jewel reached for an old straw hat that no one seemed to claim. “I’m going out to water the garden before it gets too hot out. Unless you’d rather do it. In that case, I can ride herd on Dad.”
Mom jumped to her feet, grabbing the old hat from Jewel. “I’ll take the garden, thank you very much.”
Jewel smiled. “Good choice. By the way, Aaron just texted me with exciting news. He said we can expect the delivery of the new house sometime this afternoon.”
“I thought it was delayed until next week.” Honey pursed her lips. “I wonder how your dad will react.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
“Speaking of Aaron Hanford.” Mom put the straw hat on. “Did you ever get a chance to talk to Miguel about all that?”
“All that? You mean his relationship with his brother-in-law?” Jewel knew that’s what Mom meant, although she sort of regretted how she’d confided in her now. She’d prefer to forget the whole thing. “I haven’t seen Miguel since last night. I probably offended him.”
“Well, I suspect you’re making more of it than he is. I watched the way he was with you, Jewel. Something was—”
“Oh, Mom.” Jewel gently but firmly nudged her mother toward the back door. “You better get to that garden before your plants are scorched. Don’t want to send your lettuces into shock.”
But after her mom left, Jewel let her mind wander. Should she try to square things away with Miguel? She still felt badly for the way they’d left it that night. But maybe her mom was right, maybe she was overblowing it in her head. Besides, she wasn’t sure what to say. She did want him to understand there was nothing between her and Aaron, and she really hoped there was a way the two men might repair their relationship. As much for Anna’s sake as anyone’s. After all, Aaron was her uncle, and the Oroscos didn’t have many relatives around here. Okay, she promised herself, if the opportunity arose, she would at least try to talk some sense into Aaron.
In the meantime, she knew she should check on her dad. He was clunking and thumping around in the master bedroom like something was amiss. Hopefully he hadn’t tripped over his cane. As she tapped on his partially open door, she imagined him thrashing around helplessly. When he didn’t answer, she tapped a little harder. “Dad?” she called. “Everything all right in here?”
“No,” he growled.
Recognizing her invitation to enter, she found him sitting on the bed with clothes and empty drawers strewn all over the place. “Sounded like you were remodeling in here.”
“Remodeling?” He looked up with a bewildered expression, a reminder to her that he was word challenged and took everything literally. Humor was lost on him. Well, unless it was his joke.
“What happened?” she asked lightly. “Who made this mess?”
“Honey did it.”
“Oh...?” She felt her brows arch. “So Mom did this?”
“Treats me like a child,” he grumbled.
“Oh, right.” She picked up a gray Carhartt T-shirt, folded it, and set it next to him. “Did Mom dump all these drawers out?”
He frowned with eyes downward, reminding her of a petulant child, but he remained silent.
“Do you need help putting it back together?” she asked gently.
“Together?” He looked up with bewildered eyes.
“Your clothes. Did Mom tell you to put them away?”
“Where?”
“In the drawers.” She felt a wave of pity. What would it feel like to be so confused? And to imagine you were being treated like a child? What a dilemma. But how were they supposed to treat him when he acted like a child? When he threw these juvenile tantrums? She picked up another T-shirt and, folding it, placed it on the other one. While talking gently to her father, she continued gathering and folding clothes until he was sitting amid several tidy stacks.
“Should we put them back in the drawers now?”
He nodded just barely but remained seated. So she picked up a drawer and, after several tries, found its corresponding hole in the old dresser. She continued to make small talk as she tried to reinsert the other empty drawers. It was a little puzzling. No wonder he felt confused. “Now we can put your clothes back,” she said cheerfully, wishing he would help. When he didn’t budge, she just continued putting it all away until the bedroom was back in order. “There,” she told him. “All done.”
“All done,” he echoed, nodding as if he’d done it himself. Then reaching for his cane, he slowly struggled to stand. “Tired.”
“Did that wear you out?” She used a slightly teasing tone. But he didn’t pick up sarcasm anymore.
“Yes. Need my chair.”
“I’m sure you do.” She took his other arm and guided him out of the bedroom and back to his recliner, where he collapsed and groaned as loudly as if he’d just plowed the back forty with a pair of old mules. “There you go, Dad. Just have a rest.” She pulled the lever to lift his feet up. Sometimes he remembered how it worked but not today, it seemed. “Want the TV on?”
“Uh-huh. My movie,” he mumbled. So she turned on True Grit and waited to see if he was satisfied with the familiar characters, if they were familiar. Sometimes she wondered. With him occupied and looking as if he was about to go to sleep, she slipped over to the side window and gazed out to where the new house would be set up later today. Hopefully without too much fuss from Dad. But like Mom kept warning her, anything and everything could go wrong when Dad was involved. Best not to get her hopes up.