CT nodded. “Yeah. Me. I want one.”
She nestled the tray back in his lap and, once again, kissed him on the forehead. This time he did smile. Crisis averted ... for the moment, anyway. Honey reached for the remote andturned onTrue Grit. She picked up her coffee mug, pausing to watch a scene where young Mattie gives crusty old Rooster Cogburn the what for. Too bad she couldn’t take on CT like that feisty teen girl. But somehow she was pretty sure it would never fly here.
When Honey made it to the kitchen a little while later, Jewel was waiting for her, sipping on her own coffee. “What brought that on?”
“Who knows?” Honey sat down at the table. “But it sure threw me for a loop. I’m so glad you took those pictures last night.”
“Me too.”
“What’s wrong with Dad’s foot? I noticed the wrap.”
Without going into all the details, Honey explained about last night. “I think he rolled it.”
“Maybe that’ll slow him down some.” Jewel took an orange out of the fruit bowl and began peeling it. “Speaking of slowing him down...” She shared how CT had rearranged her studio again the day before.
“I’m sorry.” Honey held up helpless hands. “But you know how he is.”
“So I got to thinking. What if I put a padlock on the door?”
“Go ahead. But keep in mind that your dad will probably figure a way to break in regardless.”
“I could post a Keep Out sign.”
Honey looked sadly amused. “You can give it a try, but I’d be surprised if it worked.”
Jewel reached across the table and took Honey’s hand. “I know this is hard on you, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
Sympathy always nearly undid her. And after the fiasco of last night, along with CT’s wild accusations this morning, she felt particularly vulnerable. “Oh, Jewel,” she muttered as she reached for a napkin. “Sometimes I just don’t know how much more I can take.” She poured out a bit more about last night.
Now Jewel started talking about other living situations and assisted care and memory care, and suddenly Honey felt overwhelmed. “Not now, Jewel.” She held up a hand. “It’s too soonto think about all that. I just needed to vent a little, but I’m done now.” She wiped her eyes and nose. “I’ll be okay.”
“But, Mom, the time will come—”
“Not today, Jewel.” Honey stood. “It’s not today.”
“Okay.”
“I think I know where a padlock is.” She went to her junk drawer and started digging through it until finally she extracted a large padlock and key. “Here. If you want to try this, it might work. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Jewel gave her a little hug, took the lock, and went out the back door. Honey watched her stroll toward the barn. She looked so young and confident. Honey remembered having been like that once. And not so long ago either. Yes, Honey knew her daughter could be right. The time for seeking out more help for CT was probably coming. For all she knew, it was barreling at them like a freight train.
Just not today. Not yet. It was too soon. She sighed to remember the emotional moment they’d shared in the alfalfa field last night, both of them aching with the reality of all this ... this hand that God and the universe dealt them. It was a lot, she knew, but she also still believed that with God’s help they would manage. Somehow.
For now, though, she would go sit with CT. She was tired anyway. Both physically and emotionally. It would feel good to curl into the couch with a book in her lap while she pretended to watch the rest ofTrue Gritwith him. Maybe that was a good title for their life these days—True Grit! Yes, it did seem to fit.
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.”
