Chapter 35
35
Honey
The crisp autumn air always filled Honey with a sense of wistful hope. It wasn’t that she didn’t like summertime, but when it was time for that season to end, she was never sad to say goodbye. This year was no different. As she and CT took their usual morning stroll, slowly but surely due to his cane and his limp, she shook her head at her worn-out vegetable garden. Okay, that always made her a bit sad. But then again, that was life. In the spring, all was fresh and green and new. The world was young and alive, full of promise.
But now, as usual, her garden looked faded and picked over. The leaves were shriveled and brown, and her sunflowers hung limply, waiting for winter birds to come foraging. A few brave tomatoes and some hearty squashes still hung on, but it was like the writing on the wall for the end of the growing season. For the first year in memory, Honey had taken a pass on canning, other than putting up a few jars of peaches from their favorite peach tree. Maybe next year, if summer wasn’t too jam-packed with activity like this summer had been.
The consolation was that most of her garden’s yield had been sold at Cooper’s and Anna’s roadside produce stand. The structure, designed by Jewel and constructed by Miguel, with CT’s “help,” had been operating on the edge of town for a couple of months now. Jewel had created handsome signs for the stand, and the whole thing was so attractive, she’d even made a charming painting of it. The piece was so loved by everyone that she’d had it reproduced into prints, which they also sold at the stand.
She and CT paused by the lavender now. Faded and worn and draped in the gray morning fog, the field reminded her of sweet-smelling Gladys Price, an elderly woman who attended their church. Like Honey, the lavender plants were ready to hunker down for winter. Their aromatic purple blooms had been cropped and bundled into thick bunches and tied with twine by the enterprising girls. Some of the fragrant bunches still hung from the roof of the little produce stand, but they’d probably be sold out before long.
They continued along slowly, but CT eventually stopped walking and asked to rest on the bench that Honey and Jewel had set next to the pumpkin patch. Littered cheerfully with colorful pumpkins, this field still had some life left in it. They hoped some of the remaining pumpkins would grow jack-o’-lantern size in time for the church’s annual harvest party. The other somewhat deformed ones, nibbled by deer, would remain to provide seed for next year’s crop.
The previously harvested pumpkins were attractively lined up all around the produce stand at the moment. They left them there throughout the week, and their numbers decreased daily. But they didn’t worry too much about theft in these parts. If someone needed a pumpkin that bad, they might as well take one. Sometimes they even found cash tucked under the big rock they kept on the produce stand. Their form of the honor system when someone wanted to make a purchase when no one was around. Honey, their most valuable item, had been transported back and forth in a wooden crate, like gold. Until they ran out.
Honey sat down next to CT, pulling her wool collar higher to keep her neck warm. She made a mental note to take some stadium blankets to the stand this afternoon. Since it was Friday, she and CT would mind the stand. The girls had some school activity that evening, and the stand still had regulars who liked to stop before the weekend. Besides grabbing blankets, Honey would try to remember to gather up those straggling tomatoes and squashes before leaving. And if she got around to it, maybe a loaf or two of pumpkin bread. She didn’t tell the customers, but the pumpkin came from a can.
She smiled to herself, still musing over the success of the girls’ charming harvest stand and how popular it had grown with the locals. She felt a little sad to think their stand, like the rest of things getting ready for the change of seasons, would close in a few weeks. Still, it had been a prosperous venture for the girls.
CT made a huffing noise, and she turned to him, patting the knee of his “good” leg. “It’s our day to work the produce stand,” she reminded him, and he smiled. He loved chatting with customers as he repeated the same stories and got befuddled over making change. No one seemed to mind. Instead, they praised the produce and his farming abilities, and he acted as if he’d personally grown and harvested every single item there. And no one corrected him.
After all, he’d been the one to plant the pumpkins last spring—at least some of them—and the lavender, at Honey’s request several years before that. Well, with help. It was no surprise that the bestseller of all had been CT’s honey. Every time he’d sold a jar, he beamed with pride. It hadn’t taken long to run out of the jars they’d allotted for the stand. The rest of the honey, held in reserves, was for CT’s personal use, and for the Honey Bee and Bee, which—thanks to Jewel’s diligent work and inviting website—was soon to have its very first guests.
Jewel was excited about the prospects, and Honey was proud of her for pursuing her dreams. It hadn’t been easy. Summer had been filled with ups and downs for all of them, but somehow it seemed they were stronger and better for it. Even CT, although fading daily, seemed contented and happy in his own way. She thought of all the times she wanted to ask why. Why had CT, of all people, been allotted this illness? Why had their last years of life together been turned upside down like this? But she knew those answers were for another life. In the meantime, she real ized that CT’s illness was what had brought their little family together. It was exactly what Jewel and Cooper had needed to restart their lives, to give them purpose, to bring them home, to make them all into a family. And it’s what Honey had needed too. Not only that, but she suspected their family would soon grow to include the Oroscos before long. She’d seen the look in her daughter’s eyes and observed Miguel’s tenderness toward her. And if that happened, the farm property that had been divided could be stitched back together again. Reunited, just like all their hearts over the past few months.
“We had a good summer,” Honey said to CT.
“Uh-huh.” He adjusted the brim of his cap. “Real good.”
“Looks like everything is getting ready to rest now.” She sighed with contentment.
“Uh-huh. Rest.” He shivered. “That’s good.”
“Ready to go inside?” He nodded, and she stood, holding her hand out to him. He took it and, steadying himself between her and his cane, stood shakily.
“Can you make it okay?” she asked. Sometimes at this stage of their walk she’d been forced to run back for the wheelchair.
“With my Honey ... I can. I can make it.” He smiled and together, hand in hand, they slowly walked home.