Chapter 23
23
Jewel
Although it was exciting when the new house arrived, it was also disappointing. Besides looking weird in all its newness, combined with those ghastly paint colors, the house was just generally unattractive, bordering on ugly. Especially compared to the charming old farmhouse and barn. It looked just plain out of place, and despite Jewel’s eye for art, she had no confidence it could get much better. What had she been thinking?
Besides that, she was growing increasingly worried her parents would hate this new strangely bright building so prominently positioned on their farm. It just looked all wrong, and if Jewel could magically make it disappear right away, she would! It was only an eyesore, and it was embarrassing.
Fortunately, Cooper had gone to town with Anna and Marta, so Jewel was spared an adolescent opinion, at least for the day. But she could just imagine Cooper’s sarcastic assessment on her mom’s rash purchase. But then again, maybe not. Cooper had totally surprised her yesterday when she arranged to bring Mom’s chickens back home from the Oroscos’. She’d promised everyone she would take complete responsibility for the six pretty hens. She would feed and water, gather eggs, and clean the coop. And the way Mom’s eyes had lit up to see her familiar old hens pecking around the chicken yard . . . well, you’d think she’d won the lottery.
With Dad napping when the guys delivered and set up the house, Jewel had remained like a watchdog on the front porch, cringing the whole time at the thought of Dad waking in time to witness the spectacle. She couldn’t imagine the fit he might throw. It was all she could do to keep herself from running out there, waving her hands like a wild woman, and demanding they take that ugly yellow house back. Somehow she had controlled herself.
Now with the movers gone, and all quiet, she walked around the exterior with a bucket of paint in hand, just surveying the awful mess she’d created. The ground all around resembled a war zone with dirt trenches and upturned soil. To Jewel’s relief, Mom had simply shrugged when she saw it, wearing an expression that suggested she had bigger concerns to fret over. Or else she was just being polite. Then eventually, when Dad did wake up, he didn’t even look out the window. He hadn’t noticed the big, ugly yellow box yet.
She knew it was silly to start slapping on paint this late in the day, but she hoped it might bolster her spirits and hopefully encourage her parents ... Maybe they’d all catch a vision for this place. She’d had a vision, hadn’t she? She wasn’t sure now.
“What’re you doing?” Dad grumbled from behind her.
She jumped, then turned with a stiff smile. “Hi, Dad. I, uh, I’m painting the new house.”
“Who lives there?” he demanded with a befuddled frown.
“No one lives there. Not yet.” She set down her brush. “Want to see inside?”
“Uh-huh.” He hobbled toward her, pausing to stab a big lump of dirt with his cane and nearly toppling over.
“Careful there.” She took his arm. “It’s still a work in progress.”
“Progress?”
“Not done yet.” She kept him balanced as he struggled on the overturned crate she’d set in place earlier as a temporary step. “A deck will be here. And a big front porch with an awning. Aaron Hanford will send his crew back later this week. We’ll put some comfy chairs out here. See the great view you get? Good for sunsets.”
He nodded with a blank expression, then stepped inside the house. Clearly, she was delivering too much information. Nervous about his reaction, she silently prayed he wouldn’t throw a fit.
“See how spacious it is in here?” She waved a hand toward the great room with vaulted ceilings. “It’s bigger than it looks from the outside.”
“Uh-huh.” He slowly nodded. “Nice.”
She sighed in relief. “And the master bedroom is nice too. Bigger than the one you and mom share now. With an attached bath. Very handy.” She led him into the master bath.
“Uh-huh,” he repeated. “Nice.” He tried one of the sink faucets, then frowned. “Broken?”
“Not hooked up yet. But by the end of the week, the water should work.”
“Oh? Okay.” He peeked at the shower. “Big.”
“Yes. Very easy access too.”
“Access? Uh-huh.”
“Want to see the kitchen?”
“Uh-huh.” He slowly followed her out, looking on with appreciation as she showed him the stainless appliances. She talked up each item and each speech was followed by his repetitive comments. But at least he wasn’t criticizing the place. She wasn’t sure if it was because she sounded so happy and upbeat or if he really liked it, but she wasn’t complaining.
“I know it’s hot in here right now.” She opened a window. “But when the electricity is on, it will have AC.”
“AC?” He cocked his head to one side. “CT? AC CT?”
“Yes. AC for CT.” She smiled. “Good joke. We’ll have to tell Mom that there’s AC for CT. That should make her laugh.”
He chuckled. Then she showed him the two smaller bedrooms and bath on the other side. “That’s pretty much it,” she told him.
“Big,” he said again. And although most wouldn’t describe it that way, she understood what he meant. To his confused mind, it probably did seem big. Especially since he’d never seen it before. “Who lives here?” he asked again.
“Whoever wants to,” she answered. “It’s such a nice house. Maybe Cooper and I will live here. Or you could live here, Dad. If you wanted.”
“Me?” He frowned. “I don’t live here.”
“You could live here ... if you wanted,” she repeated herself, more slowly now to make sure he understood.
“Too big. Too much for me.”
She shrugged. “Well, we can wait and see. You might decide you like it.”
“No chairs. No bed,” he proclaimed like that settled it. “Not my house.”
Without saying anything, she led him to the front door, pausing to look out before she helped him down the step. “It’s nice to have just one step,” she told him. “And it will be bigger and sturdier soon.”
He nodded with an absent look as he patted the exterior siding. “Like my bees.”
“Huh?” Now she felt confused. “Your bees?”
He patted the house again. “Like bees. And honey too.”
“You mean the color? The yellow?” She frowned at the bright paint. “I guess so. Yellow like bees and honey.” She laughed. “Good call, Dad.”
“It’s a bee house.”
“Well, they probably like their beehive houses better. Should we go check on the bees, Dad?” She didn’t really care to get that close to the hives, but it seemed a good distraction at the moment. Keep him in good spirits.
“Uh-huh.” He turned in that direction, and she linked her arm with his, walking slowly alongside him.
“It’s a good house,” he finally said. “Like honey too.”
“Yeah, Honey likes it too,” she said, uncertain as to which honey he meant.
“My Honey?” he asked.
“Yes. Mom. She likes the new house too.” Okay, like might be a stretch since Mom had seemed more worried than pleased over this new addition to their property. But her worries had more to do with Dad than the house at the moment.
Cooper was just crossing over the field toward them, coming back from the Oroscos’ house. Hopefully Dad wouldn’t get worked up over that. Jewel waved at her daughter and, relieved that Cooper wanted to accompany her grandpa to the hives, Jewel stepped back.
“We need to get that honey out before it gets too messy, Grandpa,” Cooper said.
“Yeah.” He nodded eagerly. “Get the honey out.”
“Want to do it now?” Cooper sounded hopeful. “I got the harvesting stuff all ready, but I was waiting for your ankle to get better.”
“My ankle is fine.” He shook his cane as if to prove this.
“Is it still warm enough?” Cooper asked him. “I mean, for the honey to flow good enough. We could get the honey out now if you want.”
“Yeah. Get the honey out.”
“Well, I’ll leave you two experts to it,” Jewel told them. “And I’ll go help Mom with supper.”
Dad and Cooper were already headed for the hives. Relieved to escape the perils of honey harvesting, Jewel went inside and, finding Mom at the kitchen sink, she began to report, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, about how impressed Dad had seemed with the new house.
“That’s something.” Mom sliced into an early tomato. “But he could be totally opposed to it by tomorrow.”
“I know, Mom.” Jewel washed her hands. “But I was thinking about putting a few pieces of furniture over there. You know, to make it feel more homey. Dad seemed concerned that it was unfurnished.”
Mom nodded absently. “That might help some.”
“But if you’re not sure”—Jewel studied her mom’s furrowed brow—“Cooper and I can live there instead. It’s actually growing on me, and I could start moving my stuff into it—”
“What do you really think of it?” Mom asked a bit sharply.
“Well, I’ll admit I was having some second thoughts earlier. And the color is horrific. Although Dad kind of liked it.” She reached for a cucumber to slice. “But I’m going to get it painted as fast as I can. And then I’ll add the flower boxes and spruce up the front porch and a few more things. I think it might look like a cottage. Plus, the interior has lots of possibilities.”
“You think it could look like a cottage?” Mom sounded a tiny bit hopeful. “I wouldn’t mind living in a cottage.”
“A comfortable cottage.”
“I did like the way the Oroscos’ house looked when we were there the other night. And I remember how much I disliked seeing it at first.” Mom’s smile looked weary. “So do your best with it, Jewel. One way or another, we’ll figure things out. Excuse my lack of enthusiasm. I suppose I’m just tired.”
Jewel reached for her mom’s paring knife. “You go put your feet up. Let me finish getting supper ready.”
“I’m not that tired—”
“Please, take a break while you can.” Jewel gave her mom a gentle shove. “I insist. Dad is occupied with Cooper right now. Take advantage of it.”
Mom’s smile grew bigger. “I should know better than to argue with my strong-willed daughter. Who knows where that might lead.”
“Good thinking.” Jewel shook the knife at her. “You know me when I put my mind to something.” But as her mom left, Jewel wondered how strong-willed she would be if her plan for the new house didn’t go as smoothly as she hoped, or if it unraveled completely. She’d been counting on restoring the old farmhouse into a B&B. But if her parents put the kibosh on that ... well, she and Cooper might be stuck in that bright yellow house for a while. Not exactly the artsy retreat she’d been dreaming of—and no extra income to go with it. Time would tell.
It wasn’t until the following morning that Jewel discovered her dad had once again gotten into the barn. She’d already gotten a couple of early hours of painting done on the new house but, in need of more rags, she’d gone to the barn to discover the broken padlock on the door. Inside, she was dismayed to see that someone, a.k.a. her dad, had gotten into her paints. Several new tubes of oils had been emptied into a tin can and stirred around with an old paintbrush. Nearby, strokes of muddy multicolored paint were smeared across the wall like graffiti. Was this Dad’s idea of art?
She heard a rattling sound in the back of the barn, near the area where she’d stored her art pieces and belongings from California. Hopefully Dad wasn’t getting paint on her things. “Dad?” she called out. “Where are you?”
“Huh?”
“What’re you doing?” She went around an armoire to find her father crouched down with a crowbar in hand, studying her antique trunk with a suspicious, or maybe it was devious, expression.
“Who put this here?” he growled at her.
“I did, Dad. It’s mine.”
“No.” He shook his head, grunting as he stood upright. “Miguel did this. He snuck it in here in the night.”
She stepped closer to look him squarely in the eye. “No, Dad. It was me.”
“I saw him. Miguel takes my stuff. Hides my tools. Locks my barn.” He shook the crowbar menacingly. “Bad, bad man.”
“No, honestly, this is my stuff. And I locked the door.”
He just stared at her now, his expression impossible to read. Confusion? Realization? Anger? It was anyone’s guess.
“I locked the door because you keep getting into my stuff.”
“No. Not me. Miguel did it.”
She reached for the crowbar and, to her relief, he didn’t resist. “You broke the lock, Dad. And you came in and messed with my paints.”
“It was ... Miguel.” His tone sounded weaker. Was he questioning himself?
She pointed to the oil paint smears still moist on his hands. “That’s my paint.” She picked up his cane, which had been cast aside, handed it to him, then tugged him by the arm over to where he’d “decorated” the old pine plank wall. “See, Dad, that’s the same paint as what’s on your hands. You did that, and I know it.”
“I did that ?” He suddenly looked very forlorn. “I ... don’t remember.”
“It’s okay.” She softened her tone. “I understand. You want to help, don’t you?”
Eyes downward, he nodded glumly.
“You just want something to do. Right?”
He looked up. “Uh-huh.”
“Do something helpful. Useful. Right?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Well, I need your help. I have something that needs painting.”
His eyes lit up. “I can paint.”
She wasn’t so sure about that but wondered what harm he could do. Especially if she kept him on the backside of the new house. Only the lower half since she was using the only ladder on the other side. The few windows back there were high, and with no landscaping, Dad couldn’t mess up anything on the ground. Even if he slopped the paint on haphazardly, it would get some coverage on, plus it would keep him busy.
As she helped to get him set up with paint tools, she felt a smidgeon of temporary relief. Hopefully he’d stick with it long enough to give everyone a break. The upside for her was how excited Dad had gotten about his new chore. He didn’t even seem to notice that the paint was eliminating the yellow color that he thought resembled bees and honey.
With the radio tuned to a classical station, Jewel commenced painting on the front side. Already this new house was looking much better. After an hour, she went around to check on her dad and was pleasantly surprised to see he’d gotten a large patch fairly well covered. And what he’d missed, she could easily touch up later.
“That looks great, Dad,” she told him. “I hope you’re not wearing yourself out.” She pointed to the lawn chair and water bottle she’d set up nearby. “Remember to take breaks when you need to.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded without looking up, continuing to slowly brush on paint. “I’m okay.”
Pleased by his fortitude, she returned to work on the front. If Cooper came to help in the afternoon, like she’d promised, things should really speed along. Hopefully Aaron’s crew would get the front deck done sometime this week. She could just imagine it with some potted plants and attractive outdoor furniture. And if Aaron delivered on the shutters he’d told her he was making in his garage, the house should be looking rather sweet in no time.
“Hello there.”
She turned around to see Miguel walking toward her with paint tools in hand. “What is this?” She smiled as she went to greet him.
“Cooper is at my house, and she mentioned you’re painting today.”
“That’s true.”
“And that she was supposed to help you this afternoon?”
“Yes.” Jewel nodded.
“Well, Anna was begging her to go with her to the swimming hole with some friends.” He shrugged. “So I thought I could substitute.” He swiped a paintbrush through the air like Zorro. “I’m not half bad as a painter.”
“I would never dream of refusing free help.” She grinned, then lowered her voice. “But I’ll warn you, my dad is painting back there. And, well, you know how he can be.”
Miguel nodded somberly. “I know. But I thought if I was helping, maybe it might get through to him that I’m not the enemy.”
She thought about Dad’s harsh words in the barn this morning but simply shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.” She pointed to the section on the other side of the front door for him to start on. “I hope this doesn’t backfire,” she said quietly. “Please, forgive us if it does.”
He looked reassuringly into her eyes. “No problem.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly worried that her dad might pop out and sling a bucket of paint at Miguel’s head. But instead of fireworks, like she was prepared for, they both just painted companionably side by side, with classical music playing soothingly. She would’ve enjoyed making small talk with Miguel, or even offering some kind of apology for the way their conversation had digressed at the barbecue, but she didn’t want to risk being overheard by Dad.
Besides, she reminded herself as she moved the ladder to the corner of the house, Miguel must not be holding any grudges if he wanted to come help today. Especially at the risk of being greeted with a shotgun by her unpredictable father. Or more realistically, a crowbar or paintbrush. At least she’d hidden the crowbar. She peeked around the side of the house to see her paint-speckled dad contentedly sitting in the lawn chair, staring up at the sky and peacefully sipping water. “Good for you, Dad,” she called out with a smile and a wave. He tipped his head with a big grin. A good sign that all was well. At least for the moment. And that was good enough.