Like a Bee to Honey

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  After that, they had kicked off their shoes and sat on the edge of the lake to watch the sunset. That pained, uneasy expression that Rose often wore hadn’t appeared once. They had talked about his parents and her parents and how Rose loved to paint more than anything. Josiah had thought about how he loved looking at Rose more than anything. She told him about her bees and how the bees came to know her so that she didn’t even have to wear gloves by the end of the season. They talked about cats and her sisters and even Paul Glick.

  It never ceased to amaze Josiah how forgiving Rose was. Even after Paul had treated her so poorly, she’d still forgiven him and hoped he could learn to be happy without Lily and without the Honeybee schwesters’ honey. She sincerely longed for him to find peace instead of worrying about profits. Josiah couldn’t see that happening, but Rose believed in the goodness of everybody.

  By the time he had brought her home, he had fallen more deeply in love with her than ever.

  He practically leaped from his buggy and bounded across the flagstone path that led to the house. He’d raced through his chores this morning so he could spend the afternoon with Rose—maybe take her to the lake. Maybe just sit and watch her as she painted or made bread. He didn’t even have an excuse to give Aunt Bitsy for his visit.

  Unless being madly in love was a gute excuse.

  Even that excuse probably wasn’t gute enough for Bitsy.

  The body of a small bird sat on the welcome mat, its feathers askew, its mouth open in what was probably its last scream. Billy Idol usually left mice on the doorstep. A bird was rarer. Josiah picked the poor creature up and carefully laid it under one of the bushes next to the porch. The sight of a dead bird would surely upset Rose.

  Josiah knocked on the door, and it creaked open wide enough for Bitsy to poke the barrel of her shotgun through. Josiah gasped and took a cautious step backward. It would be gute if Bitsy’s finger didn’t slip and blow a hole through his chest. That would sort of ruin his day.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Bitsy said, nudging the door open wider with the gun barrel. “I suppose I’m glad to see you.” She set the gun down and propped it against the wall.

  Josiah’s eyebrows probably flew off his forehead. Bitsy’s hair was no longer a lovely pastel shade of pink or blue. It was a bright, fire-engine red, as if she’d stuck her head in a can of paint and swirled it around. Not only that, but three-inch plastic skeleton earrings dangled from her ears. “Whoa, horsey!” he said, too shocked to temper his reaction. “What happened to your hair?” Quickly recovering himself, he stretched a smile across his face and pretended he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “I mean, that is a very nice color, Bitsy.”

  Bitsy seemed more annoyed than usual. “I colored it this morning,” she said, stepping back so Josiah could come in. She slammed the door behind him. “I’ve never done it quite so dark before. I was hoping it would make me feel like Wonder Woman, but I look ridiculous. It will be gone by the time the girls get back tomorrow morning.”

  Josiah deflated like a flat bicycle tire. “Rose isn’t here?”

  Bitsy fiddled with the skeleton in her right ear. “They went to a funeral in Cashton. A van came and picked them up last night, and they’ll be home tomorrow around noon.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Who died?”

  “Their great-onkel Titus on their fater’s side. I didn’t know him, and they barely knew him either, but they thought they should go. There wasn’t an opportunity to let anyone know. Even Dan and Luke don’t know.”

  Ach, vell. He wouldn’t be seeing Rose today, but he should probably make the most of being here. Leonard Nimoy sidled up against Josiah’s leg, so Josiah knelt down and petted her. “Is there anything you want me to fix while I’m here?”

  “Nae.” Bitsy’s frown looked as if someone had drawn dark lines on her face to match her dark hair. “But there’s something that I want you to see.” She picked up her shotgun as she motioned toward the door. “Cum outside.”

  Josiah’s heart felt heavy without his even knowing why. Maybe it was the way Bitsy looked at him. Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t want him to fix anything. She was usually so happy when he offered to fix things around her house. Maybe it was because her knuckles were white around her shotgun. Josiah had a feeling he didn’t want to know why she brought the shotgun with her.

  Leonard Nimoy and even Farrah Fawcett followed them out the door. Billy Idol joined their procession as they marched across the flagstones. Josiah felt even worse. It must be serious if Farrah Fawcett could be stirred from her window seat.

  Bitsy’s hair was a torch leading the way as they tromped toward the back of the barn. “Please tell me it’s not the chicken coop,” he said. The troublemakers had destroyed the Honeybee sisters’ chicken coop a few weeks ago, and Luke and Poppy had rebuilt it. Rose would be upset if they had chopped down the coop again.

  Bitsy’s earrings clicked softly as she shook her head.

  Josiah breathed a sigh of relief. Behind the barn, the chicken coop stood straight and secure, and two or three chickens pecked at the ground at Josiah’s feet. Nothing looked out of place or amiss. Maybe whatever Bitsy was concerned about had nothing to do with the troublemakers.

  Farrah Fawcett padded past the chickens and found a comfortable spot beneath the chicken coop to lounge. The chickens ignored her. They’d had enough experience to know they were in no danger of being chased by the white cat. Billy Idol crouched and crept toward a large black hen scratching in the dirt. When Billy Idol got close enough, the hen squawked and flapped her wings before running around the side of the barn and out of sight. Leonard Nimoy acted as if she wanted to make friends with the chickens but was afraid she’d get pecked to death. She kept her distance.

  Bitsy pressed her lips together and pointed up behind Josiah’s head. Dread filled him at the look on her face. He turned around. In letters three feet high, someone had spray-painted a message on the back side of the barn.

  Rose must be punished. Vengeance is mine.

  “I think they put it here in hopes that Rose would see it before we painted over it, like we have the others,” Bitsy said.

  Josiah’s blood turned to ice, and his legs could no longer support him. He felt as if he were falling from a very high place into a dark abyss. He grabbed onto the edge of the chicken coop to keep himself upright.

  Bitsy rested her gun against the barn wall, took Josiah’s hand, and guided him to sit on the wide edge of the chicken coop. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Bitsy bent over to make eye contact and rubbed her hand up and down his arm. Even that uncharacteristic show of sympathy didn’t help. How could anything help?

  “It’s going to be okay, Joe.”

  “How . . . how can you say that? Rose is in danger. Aren’t you frightened?”

  She shook her head. The skeletons in her ears looked as if they were dancing on top of her shoulders. “I’m angry. Very angry. It’s lucky I didn’t catch the cowards painting my barn last night. I would have been tempted to shoot them, and I don’t think I’d do well in prison. Orange isn’t my color.”

  Josiah wanted to throw up. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what I should do. Why would anyone want to hurt Rose?”

  Bitsy heaved a great sigh. “I think I know who has been making all the trouble.”

  Josiah snapped his head up. “You do?”

  “Although if they really want to punish who is responsible, they should blame me, not my Rosie.”

  Josiah thought he might jump out of his skin. “Who are we looking for?”

  “I will let Rose decide whether she wants to tell you. I think she’s afraid you will reject her. So many people have let her down.”

  He grabbed both of Bitsy’s hands. “You know I would never, ever hurt Rose, don’t you?”

  “Jah. I know,” Bitsy said.

  A lump grew at the back of his throat. “Denki for your trust in me.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far
,” she said, pulling her hands from his grasp. She didn’t seem like the type who liked to be touched, even in an emergency. “You’ve gone through three whole rolls of duct tape, and you want to take my little girl from me. The whole situation makes me a little suspicious. And a little testy.”

  Josiah stared at her in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not blind, young man, and I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.”

  He shook his head. Nothing got past Bitsy Kiem. “Then you understand why I’m so upset.”

  “So am I. If Rose wants you to know who hates her this much, she’ll have to tell you herself.”

  Josiah stood up. “I thank the gute Lord that she wasn’t here this morning and that we still have time to paint the barn before she gets back. I’ll go buy some paint. Do you have a tall ladder?”

  Bitsy narrowed her eyes until they were almost closed. “I think Rose needs to see it first.”

  “Needs to see what?”

  “This message. Rose should see it before you paint it.”

  A fierce, protective emotion filled Josiah’s chest, as if he were a wolf guarding his den from predators. “Absolutely not.”

  “We’ve hid too many things from her.”

  Josiah couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Rose’s own aunt. “Don’t you realize what this would do to her? She’d be terrified.”

  Bitsy folded her arms. “Jah, she would, but she doesn’t want us to treat her like a baby. We should think about what is best for Rose.”

  Josiah’s voice rose with his agitation. “I am thinking about what is best for her. Her greatest desire is to not be afraid anymore.”

  “We’ve got to tell her, Josiah. The secrets don’t make her happy.”

  He paced frantically in front of the chicken coop. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  “Maybe we only think it doesn’t hurt her,” Bitsy said, as if she really knew. As if she should decide what was best for Rose.

  Josiah’s chest tightened as anger and fear squeezed the air out of his lungs. “Nae, Bitsy. We can’t tell her. I won’t allow it.” He slapped his hand against the side of the barn. “I will not allow it.”

  “Josiah Yoder,” Bitsy said, as if she were scolding a naughty schoolboy. “Your anger will not help my Rosie.”

  Josiah stopped pacing, backed into the barn wall, and sank to the ground, breathless and spent as if he’d just swum the length of Lake Michigan. He covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Bitsy. I am not one to lose my temper like that. But don’t you see? I know Rose. She’ll be so frightened she won’t be able to eat or sleep. She can’t know. She just can’t know.”

  Bitsy knelt on the ground in front of him, nudged his hand from his eyes, and cupped her hands on either side of his face. “You think I don’t know what it will do to my little girl? You’re so arrogant that you think you know her better than I do?”

  He took a deep, quivering breath. “Of course I don’t.”

  The emotion in her eyes was so intense, a weaker person might have looked away. With the skeleton earrings and the flaming-red hair, she looked fierce indeed, but Josiah held her gaze, waiting to be chastised for his arrogance.

  “Do you love my Rosie?” she said.

  The question stopped his heart. Maybe he couldn’t imagine its ever beating again if he lost her. “Jah. I love her.”

  “More than Dan loves Lily? Or Luke loves Poppy?”

  “No one can ever love anyone as much as I love her.”

  Bitsy seemed satisfied with this answer, even though all the words in the whole world were inadequate to express how he really felt. She took her hands from his face and frowned. “Then I’ll let you decide.”

  “Decide what?”

  “I’ll let you decide whether to tell Rose or paint the barn and erase all the evidence. After me and her sisters, you are the one who loves Rose the best. You can decide.”

  He studied her face doubtfully. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I really mean that, though I might regret it for the rest of my life, just like I regret this hair color. It was rash and imprudent. Don’t make the same mistake.”

  Josiah thought he might weep with relief. He had promised Rose that he would protect her. She never need worry as long as he was around. “Denki, Bitsy. Denki. I am only thinking of Rose, you know.”

  “Jah. She’s all you’ve thought about for a very long time.”

  He stood and brushed the dust off of his trousers. “I’ll be back soon,” he said. “I’m going to buy some paint.”

  * * *

  “I never want to go back to that paint store again,” Luke said as he got out of the car. “Did you know that Wal-Mart has about two hundred different shades of red? No wonder the barn door ended up orange.”

  “And then pink,” Dan said.

  Luke, Dan, and Josiah had painted the Honeybee sisters’ barn door twice in the middle of the night to cover up messages painted there by the troublemakers. The first time, the door had turned out orange. The second time, it had come out a deep shade of pink. Josiah refused to let that happen again. Rose must never suspect the back of the barn had been painted over.

  He hefted the five-gallon bucket of red paint from the trunk of the car. It was probably much more than they needed, but he didn’t want to risk running out. He’d gone to the phone shack down the road from the Honeybee Farm and called a driver to take him to Luke’s, and then Dan’s, house. They had both gladly agreed to help him paint. He hadn’t expected anything less, but his friends’ generosity had nearly overwhelmed him, just the same.

  The driver had driven the three of them into Shawano for paint. The Englischer at the paint store had helped Josiah carefully match the color of the Christners’ barn.

  Josiah paid the driver while Dan and Luke carried the paint and rollers behind the barn. Josiah grabbed the ladder from the barn and met his friends in the back. The afternoon sun beating against the side of the barn nearly blinded him. Painting would be a warm job. Not that he cared about his discomfort. It was a pleasure to do anything for Rose.

  While Josiah pried the lid off the paint, Luke and Dan stood back and surveyed the big, bold letters that had been spray-painted on the side of the barn. Luke muttered something under his breath, and Dan let out a long, low whistle.

  “We’ve got to find out who is doing this,” Luke said.

  Josiah’s chest tightened. If he thought about it too hard, his fear and anger would render him useless to his friends or Rose. He could go home and stew about it later. Right now, they needed to concentrate on finishing the barn. Rose would be home in the morning.

  “It helps knowing who they’re mad at,” Dan said. “We can narrow down our search.”

  Josiah scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. “Why would they be so mad at Rose?”

  Dan looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. Luke stared straight at Josiah and folded his arms. “It’s something that happened a long time ago.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Rose’s to tell,” Dan said, looking apologetic that he had to keep a secret from his best friend.

  The pain ambushed Josiah, so intense that he had to press his palm to his chest to keep from crying out. One more reminder that he was not in the Christner family circle. One more reminder that he truly was an orphan. And Rose hadn’t trusted him with her secret, whatever it was.

  Maybe she would never trust him.

  Another ambush. This time like a rock to the head. Rose certainly wouldn’t trust him if he hid things from her. He wanted to protect Rose, the same way he wanted water or sunlight, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being upset. It was better if she never found out.

  He clamped his eyes shut and tried to clear his head.

  What would Rose want?

  He tried hard to push that question out of his head. It didn’t matter what Rose wanted. He knew what was best. He’d seen her face when she’d discovered the slashed b
uggy. It would have been better if she hadn’t seen it.

  But she had wanted to know, all the same.

  Oy, anyhow.

  Josiah threw his head back and growled like a badger. Luke and Dan stared at him. They must have thought he’d gone crazy.

  He hated the very thought of Rose’s terror-stricken face, but if he truly loved her, he would treat her the way she wanted to be treated. She didn’t want Josiah to pity her. She didn’t want anyone to keep secrets from her, no matter how painful. She wanted to be given the chance to be brave, even if she was scared to death.

  He gazed at the black, hateful words on the barn wall. He pictured her face when she read them, felt her hands tremble and saw her eyes fill with tears. How could he do that to her?

  He kicked the open bucket of paint at his feet. Red droplets splattered into the air. He’d have to tell her. And he hated the very thought.

  “Oh sis yuscht,” Luke said, jumping back to avoid the flying paint. “We’ve got a paint stirrer. You’re going to break your toe.”

  Dan grabbed Josiah by the shoulder with a firm hand. “Are you okay?”

  Josiah gave up trying to destroy the bucket and gave the dirt at his feet one last hard kick. “Someone threatened Rose. I’m furious.”

  “We’re right there with you,” Dan said. “Rose isn’t the only one in danger, and even if she were, we’d still feel the same way.”

  Josiah pressed his fingers into his forehead. “What can we do? I need something to do or I’ll go crazy.”

  “We can paint,” Dan said. “That’s something.”

  Josiah suddenly felt as weak as a kitten. “We can’t paint. Not until Rose sees it. She wouldn’t want us to hide it from her.”

  Dan frowned. “Even if it will scare her?”

  Josiah rubbed his forehead harder. “Jah. Even then. It’s what she wants, no matter how much I don’t want her to know.”

  “Are you sure?” Dan asked.

  Josiah nodded. “When she comes home tomorrow, we’ll show it to her, and then we’ll paint.”

  Dan’s lips drooped. “I’ll paint with you, but you’ve got to promise not to kick any more paint buckets. Luke does not look good in polka dots.”