“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.
