Page 66 of Sweet Rule
I cross my arms at Charlaine’s question. “There was nothing to tell from your text. All you said was there was a farm.”
Charlaine’s lips purse and she nods with a hum. “I guess I did keep the rose part to myself, trying to figure out if the lead was solid or not, but good news,” she throws her hands out with a flourish, “it’s solid and I think I’ve got this whole fucking thing figured out.”
“What are you talking about?” Honey grabs my hand to stop me from moving away when I start for my desk. “What is she talking about?”
I look down at her and give her a reassuring smile when I see the worried look in her eyes. “I had Charlaine helping with investigating Zeus.”
“And it’s been a shit search until last night I found the rose farm. Maybe you can tell us a little bit about it, Honey?” she asks and that makes my hand freeze where I was smoothing Honey’s hair back from her face.
Honey’s eyes leave me and go to Charlaine. “I don’t know anything about a rose farm.”
“Think hard. It’s in Texas. East Texas, Honey. You might have spent time there as a child. Can you remember anything?”
Honey swallows hard and shakes her head. “I- I…” her voice trails off and when I feel her start to shake beneath my hand I give Charlaine a sharp look.
“Why do you think she knows anything? And stop being so fucking cryptic. What rose farm and why would she know anything about it?” I don’t like that Honey’s stressed. Not with the way she’s trembling like a fucking leaf. I’m in the dark about what Charlaine is going on about. She always did have a flair for the dramatic, but I don’t have the patience for it.
“Talk now, Charlaine.”
She throws her hands up and stands from the desk. “I can see that being a married man has made you surlier than ever, so fine. Here’s the thing, Honey Bun.” She gives Honey a bright smile and rounds the desk, coming towards us. “I found a rose farm that I think is the root of all of… Zeus’ interest in you and Law.”
“A rose farm? But that doesn’t make sense a-and I don’t know…” Honey’s voice trails off as she bites her lip. “I mean, I-what would he want with a rose farm?”
“The farm started in 1892 and it was a thriving family business for over a hundred years until a bad drought, then a bad harvest. It was one thing after another until the bills were too much to pay, the upkeep too steep and the family was forced to sell it in 1999. You would have been there as a child. Visited it, maybe?”
Honey stands up and walks forward. Her eyes are on Charlaine and she shakes her head. “But why would I have visited a rose farm? What does it have to do with Zeus?”
Charlaine gives her a small smile. “Because that farm belonged to his family, and it would have been yours.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
HONEY
I said I didn’t know what she was talking about. Charlaine is a strange little woman sat behind Law’s desk. She’s nice, I think. She has a pixie cut and a friendly smile, and I do like the way she isn’t scared of mouthing off to Law. Mostly because he’s not scary, at least he isn’t to the right people.
Charlaine is the right kind of people if she’s messing with Law, so I like her, even if she’s talking in riddles. But the more she talks, the more I realize that maybe I do know what she’s talking about.
“Think hard, Honey. Can you remember anything?”
I start to shake my head but then stop. There’s a fuzzy memory that’s always been there, even if I told myself it had to be from a television show. Something I read once, maybe, but not mine. It’s too perfect of a memory, even if it’s half remembered.
“You would have been young. Maybe four or five, right? Was there ever a place you went with roses? Can you remember anyone?”
There’s sunshine. Roses. A woman that holds my hand and talks to me softly in a language I can’t understand with a smile on her face. I don’t know what she’s saying, but I know she loves me. She’s gentle with me. We walk through rows and rows of roses while she sings. She plucks one and puts it in my hair with a satisfied hum. She smells like roses. but everything smells like roses. The perfume is thick in the hot air of the day.
That memory is so buried that it only came to mind when Charlaine pressed. “I think I do remember a place,” I say softly. “A-nd a woman. I couldn’t understand her. She was, she was nice and she sang to me while we walked through the fields of roses.”
Charlaine snaps her fingers. “I knew it! I knew he took you there. What else do you remember?”
I shake my head because this is when the fuzzy memory turns into something that made me let it go. When it turns to loss like so much of my childhood was. That one perfect, half remembered day bleeds into the night. I don’t know what’s going on other than my mother is dragging me, or trying to. She’s pulling me so hard that my arm feels like it will come out of its socket and I’m crying. I’m screaming and holding onto the apron of the woman who is crying just as loud as I am.
She’s begging my mother in words I don’t understand, but it’s begging. She’s begging for me. She’s begging for me to stay if the tears in her eyes are anything to go by when I look up at her. In the end, it’s useless. My mother drags me away from the woman and into the night. I struggle and try to get free, but she’s stronger. She hits me once, twice and I stop fighting when she throws me into the backseat and locks the door.
I don’t remember a lot after that. It was just my mother speeding through the night with the windows open and her music turned up loud enough that she didn’t have to hear me crying. For days, I remember aching for that woman, but it was useless. Everytime I asked my mother about that woman or that place she told me I was crazy.
“Are you stupid or something? There’s no roses. There’s no fucking old woman. No one wants you but me.”
“I-I my mother took me away. I don’t remember- I mean, I asked her,” I say quietly and I hate how my voice breaks when I think about that woman who held my hand and sang to me. How it felt safe with her and how I never felt safe again for years. Not until I left my mother and her cruelty behind. Not until I lost myself in New York City. Even then, the safety was tenuous at best. Only Law has made me feel safe like I did that day. Like nothing can touch me, like everything is made of sunshine and song.
