Leonard hung his head and sobbed. He could hold back the tears no longer. His entire body shook with a lifetime of grief as Honey got down on her knees on the moist ground and put her arms around him.
Leonard shook his head and tried to regain his composure. His eyes were still streaming tears when he looked up at Honey and asked, "Has Gretchen done this to me? How could she?"
Honey looked at him helplessly. She didn't know what to say. Leonard had told her so many stories about the farm. She had walked through rows of corn with him and seen how he came alive talking about the secrets of growing corn and beans. This farm had been his life. Now, it was gone. Or was it?
"Don't give up, yet, sweetie. We can still get this land back. We can buy it back if we have to. We'll replant the fields and fill the lake back up and make it even better than before."
Leonard tried to smile. Honey could feel him trying to shake off his sadness.
"I love you, pumpkin," he said as he got up and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "I love your spunk. You make me feel resilient, even in my most crushing moments of defeat. They can't keep a good man down as long as he's got a good woman by his side." He squeezed Honey hard and added, "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll plant this entire field in pumpkins. We'll call them Honey pumpkins and sell them for $20 a piece."
A man in a suit, wearing a hard hat, came walking through the dirt to ask if he could help them. He was already on his radio, calling for help. It looked as though the elderly man might be having a heart attack. "Do you need me to call an ambulance?"
"No," Honey said. "This is Leonard Atkins, and I'm his wife, Honey Waldrop. . . . I mean Honey Atkins. Excuse me. We're newlyweds and I keep forgetting I've got a new last name. Anyway, he doesn't need a doctor. He's just upset, that's all. This is his farm."
"Oh, my God," the man said. "It is you." He held out his hand to Leonard, "I'm Don Granger, sir, and I can't tell you what an honor it is to meet you. My wife and I have been following you two on the news since you ran away to France. Are you sure you're okay?"
Leonard shook his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, but as you can see, I'm having a terrible time here. I thought we were coming out here to visit my farm."
"You mean you didn't know about the development?"
"We thought it was in the middle of a legal battle," Honey answered. "We didn't realize things had gotten this far out of hand."
"I am so sorry to hear that," Granger said. "This must be quite a shock. I work for the developer, Wabash Homes, and they're in a hurry to get this thing going before the ground freezes."
"Is the farmhouse still standing?" Leonard asked.
"Yes, the house and all the barns are still intact right over that hill. I'm not supposed to let you on the property, but considering the circumstances and who you are, I don't think there will be any problem letting you look around."
"If anybody gives you trouble," Leonard said, "you can tell them I'm considering repurchasing the entire development."
"Oh, my, are you serious?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. But thank you for letting us look around and reminisce. I promise we won't steal the barn."
Granger laughed and turned to walk away but then stopped. "Let me ask you one thing while I've got you all to myself."
"Go ahead," Honey said.
"Okay. Here it is. What's the real story on how you got out of the hospital jail in Paris?"
"You have been following us in the news," Honey said.
"You want the real answer?" Leonard asked.
"Yes, of course."
"The real truth is we walked out the door and there was nobody in the hall to stop us. Then we got into an empty elevator and went down to the basement to walk out another empty hall and into a car that was waiting for us."
"Where were all the guards?" Granger asked.
"They all took a break at the same time," Honey giggled.
"I see," Granger nodded knowingly as he walked away.
Once Granger was back in his truck and out of hearing distance, Leonard said, "I guess celebrity does have its privileges."
"Yes, but don't you think it's funny what interests people?"
"At least he didn't ask about our sex life."
"What would you say if he did?" Honey asked.
"I'd tell him I can't keep up with you."
Leonard brightened considerably as they walked over the hill and saw the farmhouse, looking exactly as it had looked since he grew up there as a child. It had been at least temporarily spared since it was located in a wooded area on the edge of the farm. He quickened their pace as they walked to the house.
"Maybe they'll turn it into a museum now that we're so famous," he joked.
"Don't laugh," Honey said as she turned the handle on the side door. "Look, it's open. Can we go inside?"
"Without hesitation," Leonard said as he led the way.
Once inside, Leonard was instantly submerged in waves of nostalgia. His deep sadness at the destruction of the farm was momentarily suspended as he felt childhood rushing toward him like it was running out the main door on the last day of school.
"This is the kitchen," he said as he went over to the cupboard above where the stove used to be. "Ah, I can actually smell my mother's bacon and eggs in the morning. She used to mix in Parmesan cheese and parsley. They were delicious. She called them 'French eggs.' We never had anything like that in France, did we?"
"No, we didn't," Honey said.
"The sad thing is, she never made it to France."
"I would love to have met your mother. She must have been quite a woman," she said, wrapping her arms around Leonard's waist. "She certainly did a fine job on you."
Leonard hugged her back and then continued the tour. "Come on, I'll show you the studio where she used to paint. It's in the next room. Here it is. Look at this bay window. Talk about letting in a lot of light. See that love seat right over there? I used to sit there and watch her paint for hours in that wonderful light. Evenings when the sun got low was always her favorite time to paint. The light was 'rich' then she used to say. It was the best time to watch her paint because I could smell dinner in the oven."
Leonard lingered for a moment at the bay window. He was listening to something. He went into a trance, transfixed before the glory of the window light, which seemed much more brilliant than it had moments earlier. Honey stepped away.
Leonard held his arms open and laughed heartily like he was having a wonderful reunion. He didn't say anything but he was obviously listening quite attentively.
The event lasted nearly five minutes. When it was over, Leonard lurched back into everyday consciousness and turned to look at Honey. He seemed surprised to see her at first but he quickly recovered.
"Did you see her?" he asked.
"Your mother? No, I couldn't see her. But I could tell you were having quite a visit. What did she say?"
"She was telling me all about our trip to France, like she was there with us. It was so wonderful to see how happy she was that we finally made it to France. And she was very, very pleased with us getting married. She says I've found the right girl."
"Did she say anything about the farm and what's happening to it?"
"No, she didn't. All she did was act like everything was going to be all right. She did say something about how I shouldn't be angry. She always used to say all anger is foolish. She said people mainly get angry when they can't get their own way. Anger is selfish. That's what she always used to say and she said it again, just now. Isn't that amazing?"
"Yes, my sweetie, it is amazing. You are amazing. Your mother is the most amazing of all. I can feel her presence in this home. You are so lucky to still have her in your mind and in your heart. Come to think of it, I've still got my mother too. Maybe it's time I had a little talk with her. But not now. Come on, show me the rest of this place."
Leonard led Honey up a wide staircase with an oak newel post and carved, cherry balusters. The newel post was crowned w
ith a large acorn.
"Mother had an old German craftsman come in to hand carve the acorn. He seemed old at the time. He was probably no more than fifty. It took him the better part of two days. She loved that acorn on top of the post. She always said the acorn doesn't fall too far from the tree."
Leonard showed Honey the bedroom he had shared with his brother. "This is where Gretchen's father, Daniel, and I slept growing up. Hard to believe two brothers coming out of the same room could turn out so differently."
"What was he like?"
"He was the funny one. He could always make us laugh. Even after the booze got hold of him, he was always in a good mood. He was a happy drunk until about two years before he died."
"What happened then?"
"He got mean all of a sudden and for no good reason. It was like the drunk inside him finally killed the clown. He got pale and sick and thin. He took it out on Gretchen. She was the only one around. She spent lots of nights at our house toward the end."
Honey and Leonard toured the old farmhouse until it started getting dark. Leonard had a story for every nook and cranny in the creaking, wood frame home. Honey marveled at how sharp his memory was when reminiscing on old times.
When they were heading out back to the barn, Honey asked, "So what are we going to do about Gretchen?"
Leonard stopped in his tracks. "That, my pumpkin, is the big question. Out there in what used to be my fields I was thinking about blowing her head off with my shotgun. Now, I'm starting to feel different. Somehow, being in the house has settled me down. Maybe it's the spirit of my mother. She was always a big one for forgiveness."
"Could you ever forgive Gretchen for what she's done?" Honey asked.
"I suppose before I could forgive her I'd have to try to understand why she's done what she's done. For the life of me, I can't understand how or why she would treat me this way. All I ever did was love her and try to make her happy. I was like her father, especially after my brother drank himself to death. She became like my own daughter, like the daughter I lost had come back to life. Years later, when my wife died, she became almost like a wife to me."
"And then I came along," Honey said.
"I know she couldn't handle being second fiddle. But I got the feeling I was losing her a little even before you came along."
"How's that?"
"Well, she started drinking too much. By the time she turned fifty, she was having a tough time making it to school to be a teacher. I talked to her about it. Told her she was starting to remind me too much of her father. Of course, she wouldn't listen. She liked to say I was the one losing my mind, not her. And I'll say this. I was losing my mind after my wife died. I didn't know what to do until I found you. Hell, Gretchen had me in a nursing home, doped up, half out of my mind, when I met you."
"So Gretchen hated the fact that I could help you and she couldn't."
"She hated the fact that she couldn't be the queen bee once you came along. I know she was already spending my money like it was her own. Here's the funny thing. She didn't have to spend it behind my back. All she had to do was ask and I would have given it to her. I was going to give it all to her anyway once I died."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know. Give it all to you, I guess."
"How about we both give it all to charity?" Honey said.
"That's exactly what Gretchen is afraid will happen."
"What if we give her enough to get by and forget about all the money she's taken? Maybe, then, she would drop the petition to declare you incompetent?"
"I don't think I can ever forgive her for what she's done to the farm. Not to mention what she's done to my reputation. Half the world thinks I've got Alzheimer's and can't think at all. I've got to go to court to prove I'm competent."
"The problem is, you do have Alzheimer's," Honey said. "Even Dr. Laughlin says so."
"Then I'll have to prove that the early stages of Alzheimer's doesn't make you incompetent."
Honey followed Leonard into the barn. He started telling stories about the animals he had taken care of and learned to love. He was having a good afternoon, memory-wise. It was as though the jolt of seeing the farm destroyed had sharpened his focus. Honey didn't say much.
"What's the matter, pumpkin? Why are you so quiet?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm just listening."
"All right. I know you're still on the Gretchen thing. What do you think I should do?"
Honey walked over to lean against the gate to one of the abandoned horse stalls. "I'm not sure what you should do," she said. "But I do know this. Forgiving Gretchen might be the best way to show the world how truly competent you still are."
Twenty
PROSECUTOR LINDVALL was working at her desk when her secretary burst through the door without knocking. "I'm so sorry to interrupt," she said. "But Luther Patrick is here to see you."
"Luther Patrick? Luther Patrick of Honey and Leonard fame?"
"One and the same," the secretary gushed. "And he looks much younger than I thought."
"Tell him I'm busy and I don't generally see people without an appointment, but I'll make an exception in his case if he'll wait a few minutes."
Once her employee left, Lindvall stepped into her private bathroom and freshened her hair and makeup, wondering who this guy was, coming to see her unannounced. Returning to her desk, she made herself wait three full minutes before buzzing her secretary to say, "Please show Mr. Patrick in."
Luther entered like an eighth grader who had been sent to the principal's office. His head was slightly bowed and he seemed to be looking mainly at the floor.
His meek behavior was in stark contrast to his confident attire. He looked like he had just stepped out of the pages of a men's fashion magazine. His blue blazer had cuffs and epaulets that matched perfectly with his tan slacks and deck shoes. He wasn't wearing a tie and only one button on his light purple shirt was undone.
"Come in, come in, Mr. Luther Patrick," Karen said, extending her hand over the desk. "I've been looking forward to this moment for some time. I hope you're not here to talk about the case against Honey."
"Most assuredly not," Luther said. "I know better than that. As you can see, I come without legal counsel."
"You've been hiring lawyers left and right."
"Technically, Honey and Leonard have hired their legal counsel. But I'm not here to talk about the law. I come bearing gifts, and I was hoping you could help me share them."
"Is this bribery you propose?" Karen laughed, relaxing in Luther's presence much more quickly than she would have imagined possible.
"Actually, Honey and Leonard have told me so much about you that I just wanted to meet you in person."
"How are they doing? I just hate it that I can't talk to them."
"They're having a tough time dealing with how big their story has become. They've come home to a place that did not exist before they left. They're famous now and they don't like it very much. All they really want is some peace and quiet."
"What brings you to North Manchester?"
"I'm here to help them any way I can."
"How are they physically?"
"Actually, we're taking them to the Mayo clinic tomorrow for complete physicals."
"Who's 'we'?"
"Myself and Dr. John Laughlin."
"Who's Dr. Laughlin?"
"Wait a minute, counselor," Luther laughed. "You've slipped into cross-examination mode."
"Oh, yes, I suppose I do that all the time. So, let's go back to the beginning. You said you come bearing gifts?"
"Yes, I do," Luther said. "As you probably know, Honey and Leonard and I became good friends collecting art in the south of France and Italy. Now, we're looking for a good cause and a place to hold an art auction. I am told you are a collector yourself and might want to get involved in such a plan."
"I obviously can't do it while the case against Honey is pending."
"No, I understand. This would have to be
some time in the future."
"Now, Mr. Patrick. I know you have much better connections in the art world than me. And North Manchester, Indiana, is not exactly an art center. Why would you want to do anything with me?"
"For starters, Honey and Leonard love this area more than life itself. You should have seen them in all the splendor of the Italian Riviera, pining for Indiana and singing that catchy tune."
"Back Home Again In Indiana?"
"That's the one."
"It's hard to believe how big their story has become," Karen said. "They're bigger than Bogie and Bacall. How did you happen to meet them? I've heard you saved them from drowning in St. Tropez. What's the real story?"
"I started following them in the French news. I had my head of security tail them to see what was going on. I had a hunch they were about to get themselves into trouble. Actually, I thought they might be kidnapped."
"Some people say you did kidnap them."
"Honey and Leonard wouldn't say that."
"I know they wouldn't. I'm teasing. Please continue."
"Very well. My man, Mr. Maxwell, found them hanging on the side of his dinghy, well on their way to escaping a mob and the police off the dock at St. Tropez. He was running to his boat to join the search for them when there they were, shivering and soaking wet. Honey was in the boat but Leonard was still clinging for dear life. It was nothing but good luck. Quite a bit of swimming and athleticism involved on their part, by the way."
"How do they do it at their age?"
"They're in better shape than most thirty-year-olds. They stay incredibly active. They've walked me into the ground on many occasions. And they swim quite a bit for exercise."
"How did they elude the harbor police? I heard they secured the area pretty quickly in their search for the bodies."
"The French military boats drove right past Maxwell's dinghy as he was headed to my boat, The Sinbad. Honey and Leonard were in the boat, covered by a tarp and some blankets. The military was in such a hurry they never stopped to check."
"Yes, The Sinbad," Karen said. "The most famous bad-boy boat in the world."
Honey and Leonard Page 23