Page 120 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“Come on,” my mom says, looping her arm with mine. “Walk me back to the house.”

I eye her as we turn around. “Areyou getting old?”

She snorts. “I’m not a day over forty-five and never will be.”

My laughter is loud. My mom pinches my arm.

When we get back to the house, my dad intercepts us at the door, looking downright giddy. My mom appraises him with a wary eye, as she should.

“What’s going on, Hank?” she asks.

“Come, come,” he says, waving us toward the kitchen.

At a loss, the two of us follow.

My dad picks up a small plate from the table. On it is a biscuit cut in half and smothered in what looks like honey. He holds it out toward my mom. “Here. Put this in your mouth.”

My mom,rightfully, doesn’t move a muscle. “What’d I tell you about making demands, Hank Darling? You want something in my mouth, you ask nicely.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. “I want that gone. I want that memory gone.”

“Please,” my dad says, sounding contrite. “Just trust me, Mari.”

I let my hands drop in time to see my mother accept the offering. She picks up the biscuit and takes a bite, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Is that…”

“Lavender honey,” my dad fills in. “Did I get it right?”

My mom looks absolutely stunned. The plate lowers in her hand as she stares at my dad. “Did you get a colony of bees, take up beekeeping, of all hobbies, and spend an entire evening in the hospital after you forgot to wear your gear just so you could source your own honey?”

“Grew the lavender myself, too,” he says proudly. “Took three seasons. I would’ve had a better honey yield, but it’s only my firstyear. We’ll get more next time. I think they like the pink hive. It’s got a good energy, y’know? Pink makes folks happy. Suspect it’s the same for bees.”

“Why?” my mother asks.

My dad cocks his head. “You said you liked lavender honey. Couldn’t find it anywhere around here, remember?”

“That was four years ago,” she nearly whispers.

“It was. Took a while to get everything right, but I think it tastes pretty good. What d’you think?”

I leave my moon-eyed mother with her ex-husband, dutifully ignoring the sound of my dad’s surprise as he gets the stuffing kissed out of him.

None of my business.

It’s surprisingly warm as I finish out my afternoon of work. Snow will be here before we know it, but fall isn’t quite ready to go. It seems to have gifted us with the perfect day before it’s gone, too. The leaves have all but fallen, the ground littered in gold and brown. But the sky is blue and the air a pleasant whisper against my forearms as Starlight and I head back to the stables.

I’m just shutting the door to his stall when I hear a bell. A ratherfamiliarbell these days. Letting out a sigh, I pull a date from my pocket.

“This is the last time,” I grumble, holding it out as the Darling Donkey trots happily over. He snags the treat from my palm, teeth grazing a little too close to skin for comfort. “I mean it. No more.”

He sniffs at my pocket, and I offer him a tentative pat.

“Thank you,” I add a bit begrudgingly, not for the first time.

The donkey tries to take a bite out of my jeans, and I curse, pushing him gently away before heading out of the barn.

I have time to shower before dinner, so I walk the short way down the drive to my house and do just that. It’s as I’m siftingthrough my closet, looking for a fresh shirt, that I find something I’d all but forgotten was here.

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