The Opium Equation

by Lisa Wysocky

  “You don’t get what?” I asked. By the time Deputy Giles had wrapped everything up, Adam had been apprehended in Oklahoma City, and Hill had surfaced, drunk, of course. Bubba spent three wonderful days at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital and had only recently stopped talking about the great playroom they have. I spent a week at the Cheatham Medical Center, only because the deputy and Doc Williams realized that as soon as they released me, I’d be doing things I shouldn’t. So they kept me a few days longer than necessary. At least that’s my theory.

  Bubba was spending a lot of time at the Carson home and seemed to have great respect for Keith. Or maybe it was Keith’s many guitars. I was helping out with Bubba as much as I could, but I knew we’d be heading out for the summer show season soon, and I didn’t think it would be good for Bubba to get too dependent.

  In my lap lay the entry forms for half a dozen horse shows. Darcy had decided to go for it and I was glad. She was a tough competitor and we were shooting for at least one national championship for her in July.

  Bubba reined Sally in from the rail and walked her over the raised boards Jon had nailed together to serve as a bridge obstacle in preparation for for trail classes.

  “What I don’t understand is why Adam got so crazy,” he said. “I mean, you should have heard him, wandering ’round that big old cave, mumbling to hisself. Sometimes he’d think I was his dead Aunt Glenda and he’d start screaming at me. Then he’d bring me something to eat, say he was so sorry, and run outta there like a turpentined cat. It was weird, you know?”

  I debated as to what I should say. Bubba had only just started talking about his ordeal. It was obvious the memories bothered him greatly. I decided to counter with a question.

  “Bubba, if you understand that Adam wasn’t in his right mind, what specifically is it that you don’t understand? Ask me what you really want to know.”

  I prayed it was a question I could answer. There were some things I didn’t want to explain to him and others that I couldn’t, because I didn’t understand them myself. I thought of Adam killing Glenda, holding Bubba hostage in that miserable cave, switching his grandmother’s medication, bashing the deputy and me, then kidnapping me and leaving me to die with Bubba in the thick darkness, all so he could have his fix. Then I stopped thinking about it because it made me too angry. I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.

  “So what do you want to know?” I asked again.

  He rode over to me, and Sally rubbed her nose gently against my good arm. Bubba still had a beaten look about him and his eyes were brimming with worry.

  “Well, Miss Carole said Adam probably had strange experiences when he was a kid.”

  I said I thought he probably had. It didn’t sound as if Adam had had the most stable of childhoods out there in Hollywood. And instability can lead to drug use, I’ve been told. So can mental illness and hereditary factors. Then there are those people who don’t need a reason. I believed Adam, though, when he said he started using to help manage his back pain.

  “So Adam had problems to begin with and the drugs made it worse?” Bubba asked.

  I said that the drugs had certainly helped things along. “But,” I continued, “weird experiences or an unhappy childhood isn’t enough to cause that sort of behavior on its own. A person has to be susceptible to start with, and have extraordinary conditions moving things along, such as the drugs. Some drugs, like the ones Adam was taking, are highly addictive. Once his body began to crave drugs he was helpless. Then there’s the issue of free will. Adam had to choose to hurt people for his own gain. Adam made a very selfish choice: to hurt people so he could satisfy his need for drugs. It’s not a choice that most people, even people who use drugs every day, would make.”

  I am not the one to explain all this, I thought with a sigh.

  I’m not a child psychologist, which is what Bubba needed.

  Bubba continued looking troubled.

  “But Cat, I’ve had a weird childhood. You know, Ma running off and my dad being like he is. And there’s lots of other stuff you don’t know about neither.”

  Oh, I have no doubt, I thought.

  “So––”

  Bubba climbed off Sally and sat on a chair next to me.

  “So I think I’m susceptible to being crazy,” he blurted. “Like Adam was.”

  He looked up at me with huge tears in his eyes. “I cry a lot. When I think about stuff. Like that stuff in the cave, and––” He stopped to wipe away his tears. Sally turned her head and snorted gently into Bubba’s neck. Bubba gave a wan smile and patted her cheek. “––and other stuff. I think ’bout lots of weird stuff. Sometimes I think my brain’s not hooked up right. You understand?”

  I did understand. So well that I thought I might burst out crying any minute. It hadn’t taken much to get me going the past few days either.

  “So I’m afraid I’m going to go crazy, too,” he said. “Maybe not now, but someday. Sometimes when I start crying I think I’ll never be able to stop. So what I want to know is, is there any medicine or anything they can give you to, you know, stop me from crying?”

  “Yes, of course there is, Bubba. There’s medicine for that. But I don’t think you need any of it.”

  “How come?” he snuffled. He wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not.

  “Well,” I said. “Remember when we were in the cave and we were trying to find a way out?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Do you remember what you did?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said with disgust, “I nearly kilt both of us. We got out into the river and the light hurt my eyes so bad I closed them and swum us right into a pile of weeds.”

  “No, Bubba! No. You had no control over your eyes. You’d been in a dark cave for a week. Your eyes had gotten used to the darkness so you did what you had to do. And besides, it was hard even for me to see. I didn’t know the weeds were there. Anyone would have swum straight into them. What you did was this: you came up with the plan to get us out. And it was a great plan, because it worked. You swam out of there first. You led us out. Bubba, you got us out of there.”

  And it was true. With only the one arm, I never would have made out it by myself.

  He still looked doubtful.

  “So how come I’m still crying all the time?”

  I had to think about that one for a minute.

  “Well, okay,” I said, “when we were finally out of the river and you were breathing again and we knew we were going to be okay, do you remember what you did?”

  “Um, nothing, I just lay there.”

  “Exactly, you just lay there because you didn’t need to do anything. Everything there was to do was done. You were out. You were safe. When you didn’t need to do anything, you stopped. And it’s the same idea here. You’ll cry for a while because you need to. Then when you no longer need to cry, you’ll stop.”

  I hope.

  “So, the crying is like something I gotta do and when I don’t gotta do it anymore, I’ll just stop?”

  “I think so. Bubba, don’t worry about the crying, It’s your body’s way of healing. You need to do it. I think you’d be crazy if you didn’t cry. So let yourself go. Cry all you want. And I’ll tell you something else. If you need a place to cry, there isn’t a better place in the world than Sally’s stall. She’s a good crying partner. I know that from experience.”

  Sally nudged Bubba again with her nose.

  “See? You feel free anytime you want to come over and spend some time with Sally.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Bubba looked relieved. He climbed back on Sally and rode to the end of the arena, talking to the wise, gentle horse all the way. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Sally could. And I couldn’t think of a better way for Bubba to heal, or me for that matter, than from the quiet, comforting presence of a horse.

  In fact, I felt Hillbilly Bob was in need of some company right then. So I climbed down fr
om my chair and headed for his stall.

  EPILOGUE

  I AM HAPPY TO REPORT THAT, so far, Adam Dupree remains in jail and is awaiting trial. Now that Opal is off the mind-numbing drugs and is once again mentally strong, she has hired Adam the best criminal defense team in the country. She is still operating on the assumption that while she can’t help the dead, she can try to save the living.

  Deputy Giles received a commendation from Sheriff Big Jim Burns. It was a formal ceremony held last month on the courthouse lawn. If you think it was a big gesture on the sheriff’s part, think again. The sheriff made sure all the media turned out and he twisted everything to look as if the deputy was just carrying out the sheriff’s orders. Deputy Giles gave the medal to his mama and then spent a week fishing on the Kentucky side of Land Between the Lakes.

  Speaking of the deputy, his brother Brent and I have gotten together for a meal or two. And Brent was right; he does make great lasagna. I enjoy his company very much, but we’re taking things slow. I believe that good things come to those who wait. If we still like each other after the coming show season, then I think it’s a relationship that just might stick. It would be nice to have a man like him in my life, but time will tell.

  To my great disappointment, Carole Carson decided not to compete this year. About the same time the decision was made a brand new cabin cruiser showed up in their driveway and Keith announced that they planned to spend their free days this summer on the river.

  My guess is that with Keith’s heavy touring schedule they take the thing out three times max. I like Carole very much as a neighbor and friend but know, that despite her full life, something is missing.

  Robert Griggs also decided not to compete, and resigned his position as a nurse in Vanderbilt’s pathology department. Last I heard he was volunteering at a therapeutic riding center in Franklin.

  Other than a real and ongoing concern for the stability of my body, Jon Gardner has withheld comment on the entire affair. We never did have that little talk. As the boss, I know it is up to me to initiate the conversation and give him my thanks and apologies, all the while begging forgiveness for leaving him in the lurch and endangering his livelihood. But you know how I am. I don’t like big, messy, emotional scenes. Jon continues as my assistant, but I know until the day comes when we have that big discussion, we won’t be the best team we can be.

  Hill Henley went on a major bender when he realized Glenda had died without paying him for the horse. But the episode scared him enough to begin rehab at Cumberland Heights a good rehab center just up the road from us. He says he wants to be a better father to Bubba, but I don’t think he knows how. Still, it’s a good beginning and I know Bubba is worth everything Hill does to make himself a better parent. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

  Despite Hill’s wish that Bubba stick close to home, between time at Carole’s, and with us out at the barn, he isn’t home much. Jon and I put Bubba to work cleaning tack or mucking stalls whenever we can. Most of the time, however, Bubba can be found sitting quietly crooning to Sally in her stall. I think it’s time well spent for both of them, so for the most part, I leave them alone.

  Since the “incident,” as I tend to call it, Darcy has taken over the daily training of Peter’s Pride and she’s doing such a great job that it scares me. Their first show of the season is coming up in several weeks and I feel that this time around, Darcy’s mind is eager and focused. I have no doubt they will beat the pants off all the competition.

  Agnes finally got her pom-poms, albeit too late to stage a rally at the sheriff’s office. But she was able to put them to good use at Sally Blue’s first competition under saddle last Sunday. I’m not sure whether the pom-poms had any influence on the judge, but Sally won first place and Agnes is now in the process of developing an official Sally Blue web site, Facebook page, and fan club.

  As for Sally, maybe she really is psychic. I thought about all the “clues” she gave us. Her obsession with pawing and digging into the ground could have symbolized the cave. The blowing of bubbles in her water might have indicated the wetness of the underground cavern. She often looked toward Fairbanks, and there was the riding session when she whirled toward the old mansion every time she came to the gate. And, Sally did find Glenda’s notebook. It probably was all coincidence, but I love her anyway.

  Someone else I love, Hank, continues to chew sticks and howl at the moon. However, he just attended his first horse show and has found a new calling as official stable greeter. He is looking forward to a long and illustrious career.

  As for me, well, against all advice, two weeks after my release from the Cheatham Medical Center I took an inaugural ride on Hillbilly Bob. Doc Williams, Bob’s owner and orthopedic genius, has me undergoing daily whirlpool sessions along with an entire assortment of state-of-the-art physical therapy. The end result is that after six weeks, I’m almost back up to snuff. I try not to think about all that has happened. But it’s hard not to look at Fairbanks without it all rushing back. We’ll be heading out for the summer show season soon. I think the time away will be good for all of us. And as Opal would say, “time heals the deepest of wounds.”

  I think we’ll be gone a very long time.

  THE END

  CAT’S SCRUMPTIOUS HOT CHOCOLATE

  Ingredients

  1 large mug milk*

  1 single serving of your favorite hot chocolate mix

  1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

  1 large dollop whipped cream*

  1 tbsp. chocolate sprinkles

  Directions

  Heat milk in a large mug so it is hot, but not boiling (Cat uses the microwave)

  Add vanilla and hot chocolate mix

  Stir

  Add whipped cream

  Top with chocolate sprinkles

  Enjoy!

  Depending on the circumstances, Cat may add a generous measure of coffee-flavored brandy––for medicinal purposes only, of course.

  *Cat uses 2-percent milk and real whipped cream, but those whose metabolisms aren’t as efficient as Cat’s may substitute nonfat ingredients. For a creamier taste, try soymilk.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Many people nurtured Cat and me along the path of publication. While the list is too long to mention everyone, I thank each of you. You know who you are.

  Several book industry professionals went above and beyond. Claire Gerus, Mel Berger, and Eric Myers are all agents who took on earlier versions of the manuscript. Thank you for your kind and gentle suggestions, all of which improved Cat’s story. Sharlene Martin at Martin Literary Management has championed me for many years and I treasure her invaluable friendship and expertise more than I can say. Special thanks to my publishers, the fabulous Neville and Cindy Johnson, who were eager to gamble on Cat and her adventures, and especially to Cindy for her eagle eye. Thanks also to Mary Isenman and my mother, Pat Wysocky, who helped with proofing.

  Throughout my life there have been many horses with whom I have been privileged to cross paths, and I have learned something from each one. Special recognition goes to Dondi, Snoqualmie, Ben, Rebo, Ghost, Nelson, Nacho, and Valentino. Their wise and thoughtful perception of the world around them was the inspiration for Sally Blue. Over the years I have learned to trust equine instinct more than human and have learned much about myself through these, and other, very special horses. Thank you.

  My apologies to the good people of Ashland City, Tennessee; Bellevue, Tennessee; and to the residents of Cheatham County, Tennessee. The law enforcement and journalistic teams there are much better in real life than in Cat’s world. I also took some literary license with geographic locations and other details, including the positioning of the Cheatham/Davidson county line. However, the basic history of the area is accurate.

  Many Tennesseans will recognize that information on Bucksnort, Tennessee (which is west of Nashville) and Mimosa, Tennessee (which is south) was merged into one town. Also, I have many friends who live in Belle Meade and know for a fact that n
ot everyone who lives there is as snooty as Glenda or as superficial as Buffy. Goose Berry only lives in Cat’s world, but there really is a “stick lady” in Tennessee who places branches on the road in front of her house to slow speeding cars.

  Thank you also to Chuck Dauphin, Dr. Geoff Tucker, Bill Royce, Neville Johnson, and Morgan Fairchild, all of whom crossed boundaries from my world into Cat’s. Next time any of you see Cat, please ask how the repairs on her barn roof are holding up. She does not always tell me these things.

  To you, the reader, I have to say that Cat and I so appreciate you picking up The Opium Equation. I hope you enjoy Cat’s story. If you do, please tell others about it and her. Many adventures lie ahead for Cat, but she has told me that public demand is the only reason she will agree to share them with you. So let us know what you think. In the meantime, please visit Cat and me online at: LisaWysocky.com or at CatEnrightStables.blogspot.com, or via email at lisainfo@comcast.net.

  Lisa Wysocky

  July 2011

  FOOD FOR THOUGHT: BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS

  1. How did the entire experience change Cat? Are the changes for the better or for the worse?

  2. What could Cat do to smooth out her relationship with Jon Gardner?

  3. Do you think Sally Blue really is psychic?

  4. Is there a future for Cat’s new relationship?

  5. Do you think Cat should forgive the murderer? Why or why not?

  6. Is Jon just a private person, or does he have something to hide? If he is hiding something, what do you think it is?

  7. Do you think Sheriff “Big Jim” Burns will win the upcoming election?

  8. What will happen to Fairbanks now that Glenda is dead? Will her survivors sell it? Keep it? Or… .?

  9. Should Bubba go to a foster home, or is Hill Henley responsible enough to parent him?

  10. How do you think Darcy will do in the upcoming show season?

  11. Will the murderer’s attorneys get the charges dismissed? Should they be dismissed?

  12. How do you think Cat really feels about Agnes?