Honey and Leonard (22 page)

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Authors: Mark Paul Smith

BOOK: Honey and Leonard
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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 with 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."

"Why would you call it a bad-boy boat?"

"Maybe because it's called
The Sinbad
."

"Sinbad was a heroic sailor," Luther countered.

"Fictional as I recall."

"Fictional but heroic. The name has nothing to do with sin."

"How many voyages did Sinbad take?" Karen asked.

"I'm not sure," Luther said. "But you might want to read
The Seventh and Final Voyage of Sinbad
."

Karen laughed. This Luther was fun.

She listened intently as Luther told story after story about Honey and Leonard, revealing quite a bit about himself in the process. He was down to earth, charming without trying too hard. He was obviously excited to share the scoop on Honey and Leonard.

Before she knew it, Lindvall's staff had gone home for the night. She and Luther were alone. She considered offering him a shot of Scotch from the bottle in her desk but then thought better of it. After all, it was their first meeting.

Luther saved the day before she had time to think things through.

"I've got a great idea," he said. "Let's continue this conversation over dinner. I'm famished and I could use a drink. Would you care to join me? Or better yet, direct us to the finest dining establishment in the region? I could have us in Chicago in less than an hour."

"That's right. You've got a helicopter, and probably a jet as well."

"Does that offend you?"

"No, I guess not. It's just that I've never gone out with a guy who had his own helicopter. Not that we're going out, per se."

"Of course not. We'll just have a cocktail and a bite to eat. We don't need the plane."

"You know what?" Karen said as she stood up and Luther followed suit. "I could be talked into a Scotch. And I know a great Italian place right around the corner."

 

Twenty-one
GRETCHEN SET HER SUITCASE on the linoleum floor and looked around the small but comfortable room. There was a single bed along the left wall and a table with two chairs on the other side. A doorway on the right led to a bathroom that looked like it could be used by the room next door. The front wall of the bedroom was a sliding-glass door that afforded a nice view of a private patio and garden.

This won't be too bad at all.

It was a sunny day. Gretchen walked to the glass door and grabbed the handle to open it. The door wouldn't open. She pulled harder. It wouldn't budge. She bent over to examine the handle. There didn't seem to be a lock or a switch to open. She put both hands on the handle and used her body weight.

A nurse in a crisp, white uniform walked in without knocking and saw Gretchen pulling on the door. "You can stop pulling on that thing. It won't open. It's locked from the outside. You're in a lockdown detox unit. Sit down, I've got to take your blood pressure and ask you some questions."

As Gretchen slowly took her seat in one of the chairs, the gravity of her situation hunched her back and made her shoulders slump.

Has it really come to this?

The nurse got her to sit up straight and told her it would only be a few days before she could leave detox and join her fellow addicts and alcoholics on the unit. "That doesn't sound like much to look forward to," Gretchen said.

"It's better than where you were headed," the nurse said. "Your blood pressure is dangerously high."

This was the beginning of four miserable days for Gretchen. The vomiting and the sense of impending doom and the skin bugs weren't the worst part of alcohol withdrawal. It was the nightmares that really dished out the punishment. Her dreams of Uncle Leonard were the most terrible psychological suffering she had ever endured. In these dream hallucinations she was often inflicting unspeakable physical torture on him until he finally had no strength to even cry out in pain. She beat him like an evil horse trainer breaking a stallion.

Gretchen awakened from each dream drenched in the sweat of her own guilt. She had never before suffered dreams of violence.

The dreams became less frightful as the days and nights crept slowly and painfully by. The icy fingers of alcoholism gradually stopped choking her. On the fifth day, she was released from the detox unit and assigned to a room with five roommates.

As soon as she arrived, she wanted to return to detox. Being forced to interact with others would be a new kind of nightmare. The only time she ever had a roommate was her freshman year at college, and that had been a disaster. Gretchen had always needed to get her own way.

The unit was a suite of sleeping rooms around a large living space with couches, a television and a snack area with a kitchen. There were 26 women in the unit and each of them was at a different point in her 28-day stay.

The first woman she talked to was a crack addict out of Boston with ten days in the program. She was a prostitute, thin as a rail. Gretchen could not relate to her tales of doing tricks and staying up for a week at a time.

The woman in the bed next to Gretchen was on her twenty-fourth day. She saved Gretchen from the Boston girl by introducing herself as a "wild whiskey woman from Washington." Gretchen felt an immediate affinity for her.

"Name's Barbara," she held out her hand. "I'm just about out of here. Don't worry. I know how you feel. Right about now you're beginning to wonder why in the world you let them talk you into rehab. This place feels like prison. It's hard at first but it does get better as you go through it. What brings you to Mapleton?"

"Jack Black."

"Oh, yes, I know him well. Too well."

"Also, it looks like I'm about to get busted for embezzling money from my uncle and selling his farm."

"We do the damndest things when we're drunk," Barbara said. "For me, it was always about the sex. I'd get drunk enough, I'd roll with a buffalo."

Gretchen laughed like she thought her new roommate was joking. She wasn't.

"It's all the same," Barbara continued. "Drugs, booze, sex, money. They're all symptoms of the disease of addiction. The real core of addiction is the self-centeredness. That's what the twelve steps are all about. It's not about quitting booze. It's about not being selfish. It's about surrender."

"Surrender to what?"

"Surrender to the fact that you can't drink alcohol like a normie."

"What's a normie?"

"Normal person."

"Oh, brother. You people have a funny name for everything."

"What do you mean, 'you people.' Don't look now but you're one of us."

"I'm not as bad as her," Gretchen said, pointing to the Boston girl.

"Don't say that to her. She'll scratch your eyes out," Barbara laughed.

The Boston girl came over and said, "Don't think I don't know you're talking about me. I see you doing your little pointing and giggling. You white girls might think you're better than everybody, but last time I checked, we all ended up in the same place."

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," Gretchen said.

"Oh, so now you want to play nice. Well, that's all fine with me. It's Shaniqua. My name is Shaniqua. I know it's gonna take a while, but you'll learn how to pronounce it."

"Come on, Shaniqua," Barbara said, "sit down and talk with us. I've got to warn Gretchen how you fart in your sleep."

"Me?" Shaniqua loosened up as she sat down. "You're the one who turns the room blue every night. It's you old girls got the problem."

It took several days, but Gretchen's worldview broadened considerably as she learned to live in close quarters with roommates of all ages, races and social status. Their common bond was addiction, and they all knew they needed each other's help.

Barbara and Gretchen became such fast friends that it was difficult for both of them when it was time for Barbara to go home. Her twenty-eight days were up. Gretchen was on day nine.

As they were hugging each other goodbye, Barbara said, "Stay writing on your steps. And don't wait too long to get to Step Nine. That's the one about making amends. If you try to make amends to your Uncle Leonard, you'll be amazed what happens."

After Barbara left, Gretchen began helping a new woman on the unit. That was the beauty of the 28-day program at Mapleton. Everyone arrived raw and disoriented, but they soon learned the value of helping others. In ten days, they could help new arrivals on the unit. In twenty-eight days, each woman had progressed from rehab rookie to fledgling recovery counselor.

The woman Gretchen took under her wing was a 41-year-old art teacher from Tulsa, Oklahoma, named Bobby. Bobby had been caught using art supply money to support her cocaine habit, which had turned into a crack cocaine addiction. Bobby was a hot, skinny mess when she came in, convinced that her life was over.

"I can't believe I stole from my school. That's the last thing I'd ever do. I love my kids. They mean everything to me. I can't believe I let them down."

Gretchen felt like she was looking into a psychic mirror. "I know how you feel," she said. "I stole a lot more money than you and I did it to the one man who really loved me."

"You stole from your husband?" Bobby asked.

"No, I stole from my uncle. I've never been married."

"Are you gay?" Bobby was brusquely straightforward..

"No," Gretchen answered after too long a pause. "I just never found the right guy. To be honest, I never even had a long time boyfriend."

"I had a husband. He divorced me about a year ago. Thank God I'm still on his health insurance to pay for this place. How is it you never had a boyfriend?"

"I guess it was growing up on the farm, being an only child. We kept pretty much to ourselves out there. By the time I got to college, I was already a loner. I never felt comfortable with myself until I started teaching school. I found my calling and my true self as a teacher. I was good at it. My kids were everything to me. I never had time for men. But I started drinking. My daddy taught me how. Before long, I was taking a nip between classes."

"How did you not get caught?"

"I mixed the booze into a coke bottle and ate tons of breath mints."

"Yeah, I used to do a bump for lunch."

"What do you mean?" Gretchen asked.

"I'd snort a line of cocaine instead of eating lunch. Cocaine makes you not hungry. But it's an expensive diet plan. I figure it cost me about $10,000 a pound."

"How did you afford it?" Gretchen asked.

"I stole from anybody I could. My husband, my parents, and eventually, even the kids at school. That's why I'm here. They caught me. It was rehab or jail. So what goes on around this place?"

"For starters, it's time to eat. The food is great. It's cafeteria style and you can go back as many times as you want. They've even got ice cream. You look like you haven't eaten in a month. Let's go."

Helping Bobby and the other women on the unit turned out to be the best medicine for Gretchen. She was older than most of the women. By her twenty-fifth day, she had become a virtual housemother on the unit. She took to recovery with such enthusiasm that her counselor began suggesting she might have a career in the recovery industry.

One afternoon at the pool, she heard herself saying to Bobby, "You've got to find a way to forgive yourself so you can move on with your life."

"I don't think I can."

"Oh, come on," Gretchen said. "You're not that important. Everybody makes mistakes. The whole point of the twelve-step program is getting over your self. It's the self-centeredness that keeps us using and drinking and stealing, not the drugs or the alcohol."

As the words came out of her mouth, Gretchen realized she was talking to herself. She had been taking herself too seriously. She did need to let go of the past and put some faith in a higher power. Let go and let God, as all the recovery books said.

She needed to let go of her need to be so controlling. She needed to forgive herself so she could move on and do what she needed to do.

A new resolve came over her as she made the decision she knew she had to make.

I've got to make things right with Uncle Leonard.

* * *
Honey and Leonard were waiting for another round of their physicals to begin at the Mayo Clinic.

"I hate all these tests," Honey said. "Everybody treats me like a little old lady. I don't feel old. Do I feel old to you, sweetie?"

Leonard missed his cue. He was lost in that place he went from time to time. It was a terrible time for his mind to wander. His wife needed reassurance and she needed it now.

Honey wasn't one to suffer in silence. She punched him hard on the arm to bring him around and grabbed his head with both hands to turn his face toward hers. "I said people are treating me like an old lady. Do I feel old to you?"

Leonard instantly realized the importance of giving the right answer. He kissed her on the lips and stood up to formally proclaim, "You are not old in the slightest. You are my sweet, baby, pumpkin. When you're mad, you're my sweet, baby, grumpkin."

Honey stood up to throw her arms around him. The motion raised up his hospital gown and exposed his bare ass to a couple of passing nurses, who giggled and kept moving. Honey grabbed his butt with both hands and said, "Leonard Atkins, you are one smart man."

"Was I wandering for a minute there?"

"Yes, you were."

"That's scary," Leonard said. "It seems to be happening more and more."

"No, you just haven't had your medicine today. The doctors want to test you without that new drug you're on. They don't really need to test you. I can tell them it's working wonders for your memory and for your attitude in general. For all I know, they're getting close to a cure."

"Wouldn't that be grand?" Leonard said and then fell thoughtfully silent.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I wish we would have met fifty years ago. We could have danced all night."

"We can still dance all night," Honey said. "We just don't want to."

"I know," Leonard laughed. "That's not what I mean. What I'm talking about is why it took us so long in life to find each other. Why didn't we fall in love when we were kids?"

"Do you think we would have had as much fun?"

"Maybe not. They say every age has its compensations. For us, being older has freed us. It's almost like we had to go through a lifetime of struggle to become free enough to find each other."

Honey hugged him and marveled to herself how insightful her man could be in his moments of lucidity. He had made remarkable progress in the six weeks since getting on the experimental Alzheimer's drug. Now, being off the drug for twenty-four hours before testing, she could feel him slipping into the dark world of the forgetful mind. She knew he didn't remember his most recent profound remark.

"What's that you say about every age having its compensations?" she asked.

Leonard gave her that blank look that told her he had no idea what she was talking about.

"You were saying we had to go through a lifetime of struggle to become free enough to find each other."

Leonard picked up on her point, although he didn't remember making it himself. "What I think," he said to recover, "is it's a darn shame we didn't meet each other much younger in life."

"Are you saying I'm too old for you?"

"No, no. Not at all. I guess all I'm saying is I'm so grateful we got together. For the first time in my life I feel complete. I really don't know how I went so long without you."

Honey gave him a big kiss on the lips and breathed in through her nose his smell of Old Spice deodorant. "I love the way you smell. And I love the way you kiss, especially since you are now the most famous lover boy on the planet."

"Tell that to my little man," Leonard said. "As much as I love you I honestly feel like he's not down there anymore. It's strange. He used to lead me around like a dog on a leash. Now, I'm off leash and I don't even want to run away."

"Sweetie, I do not feel deprived in any way. We still have our moments. But your hugs and kisses are all I need. Like you say, every age has its compensations. One of the main benefits of getting older is not thinking about sex all the time. Men confuse sex with love, but the two are not even related. Sex is love's evil stepmother."

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