Definitely not feeling defensive, he thought.
“The Vanderhoffs live here,” she went on. “They keep a lot of our hives in their orchards. The swarm’s in one of the apple trees out back, past the barn. It’s about a five-minute walk.” She reached behind the seat and pulled out the canvas. “I’ll get the box and my suit from the back, but could you bring the two supers? I always carry a couple in the truck in case of a swarm or if I need to set up a new colony. I’ll let Marge know I’m here. Oh, and there’s a hand saw. I’ll need it, too.”
Will watched her walk up to the back door of the farmhouse. He had an odd sense of familiarity, as if he’d helped her with a job like this many times. Perhaps it was the casual way she accepted his presence—her assumption that he’d be right behind her, doing his part.
His eyes narrowed when the screen door opened and what could have passed for a small bear bounded out and lunged at Annie. Will pressed down on the door handle, about to rush to her rescue, when he realized it was a dog. Annie dropped the box to hug it as a woman appeared in the doorway. Annie turned and gestured for Will to join her.
He hesitated. He wasn’t much for social conventions since the accident. Getting out of the truck, he went around to the back for the supers. The dog raced toward him, barking, and Will froze.
“Bear!” shouted the woman.
I called that one right, Will thought, as the dog bounced back to its owner. He hefted the supers out of the truck and walked toward them.
“Marge, this is…uh….”
“Will Jennings,” he quickly filled in. She’d already forgotten his name.
The woman smiled politely, waiting for some addition to the introduction. But when none came, she said to Annie, “I’m sorry Ted isn’t here to help out.”
“Will and I can manage. I just wanted you to know why the truck was here. And thanks for letting me cut the branch.”
Will followed her across the yard, past the barn and into an orchard so large he couldn’t see the end of it. “Quite a place,” he said as he caught up to her.
“They keep a good third of our hives here. Listen,” she said, stopping him, “I hope you don’t think I forgot your name back there. I was just trying to think of what to say about you. I mean…” A red stain crept up her neck. “You know how people always tack on something about the person they’re introducing? Like, this is—”
“I know what you mean,” he said, cutting her off. “You could have said I stopped in to buy honey.”
The stain deepened. “I have a tendency to babble awkwardly,” she finally said with an embarrassed laugh that made Will regret his bluntness.
They continued walking. There was a cool breeze in the dappled rows of trees laden with pink-and-white blossoms and Will greedily sucked in the fresh perfumed air. He could have been on another planet, the place was so far removed from Newark. A muted hum drifted toward them on the breeze and grew increasingly louder the farther into the orchard they walked.
Annie dropped the box and saw onto the ground and stared up into a tree a few feet away. Will swallowed hard. Thousands of honey bees clung together in a massive, pulsing pendulum hanging from a branch. His first impulse was to vacate the area immediately.
Without taking his eyes off the swarm, he whispered, “How’re you going to get them down from there?”
“It’s tricky,” she said, “but not complicated. The swarm came from one of those hives.” She pointed to half a dozen towers of white supers about a hundred yards away. They were stacked in groups of four to seven, with bees flying in and around them. “Once the bees have left a hive with the queen, they won’t return. The hive has likely been taken over by a new queen. I have to get the swarm to go into a new hive, which I’m setting up with the two supers you’re holding. Come on.”
Will gave the tree a wide berth.
“The swarm won’t bother you,” she said, smiling. “The bees are in what my dad calls a state of bliss. Before they leave with the queen, they fill themselves with honey. They’re really docile right now.”
“But won’t they want to protect the queen?”
“They are. She’s in the middle of the cluster. Here, I’ll take the supers.” She set them one on top of the other onto a wooden stand about five feet away. Then she picked up the canvas tarpaulin and unrolled it, spreading it on the ground directly in front of the supers.
Will was fascinated by her unhurried manner. Obviously, she’d done this many times before. He watched as she climbed into a white jumpsuit made of some kind of canvas material. The bee suit. Zipping it up, she reached down for the helmetlike hat with its mesh curtain and a pair of gloves.
“Okay,” she said, “now for the fun part. This is where you get to help.”
Uh-oh. He didn’t want to risk a reply, in case his voice gave him away. Swallowing, he traipsed behind her as she headed back to the tree with the swarm where an aluminum ladder was propped against the trunk. Annie picked up the hand saw.
“I’m going up the ladder to cut off the branch holding the swarm. It’s not very thick, so it won’t take more than a few seconds. You’re going to stand right below the swarm with the box. When the branch is cut through I’m going to lower it very carefully into the box.”
“That I’m holding,” he said.
“It’s going to be heavy,” she warned.
“Uh-huh. So how come I don’t have one of those outfits, too?”
The obvious concern in his voice drew a smile from her. “Don’t worry. You’re the box man. I have to hold the branch with one hand and saw with the other. Besides, as I said, the bees are in a—”
“State of bliss. Right. And what if they quickly shift into some other state? Like a state of attack?”
Her smile widened. Will had the uncomfortable feeling she was enjoying this. “They won’t, trust me. I started helping my dad collect swarms when I was about ten years old.”
“Won’t they just, uh, freak out and take off?”
Annie shook her head. “They want to stay with the queen.” She positioned the ladder closer to the branch with the swarm and began to climb, saw in hand.
Will felt his heart speed up. He was certain the swarm would either attack her or head immediately for him, and wondered how much protection the cardboard box would offer. Instantly, he had an image of his hapless cartoon self being chased by bees into a river. Annie began to saw at the branch.
“Okay,” Annie said quietly. “I’m almost through. All set? By the way—”
Here it comes, Will thought. The disclaimer that puts a lie to every assurance she’s just given me.
“Sure you’re okay?” She was frowning down at him. “You look a bit pale.”
I’m a firefighter for God’s sake, he wanted to say. I’ve tackled far more dangerous jobs than this. But nothing came out.
“I was about to say that after I lower the branch inside the box, all you have to do is carry it over to the tarpaulin and set it on the ground. Gently. As I said, it’s going to be heavy so don’t let the sudden weight catch you off guard. Okay?”
He nodded and managed to inch closer to the branch. He raised the box until it was poised a mere four or five inches away from the tip of the pendulum of bees. His sweaty hands gripped the cardboard.
Annie made one last cut with the saw, which she then dropped to the ground. Will knew at once what she’d meant by weight. He could hear her breathing heavily as she struggled to slowly lower the branch into the box.
Will’s grasp gave slightly at the heft of the swarm. He heard Annie clamber down the ladder but his eyes were fixed on the top of the box as he headed for the canvas.
“You’re doing great,” she called out behind him.
He’d have made some glib remark about hollow praise but was trying not to trip. Annie was standing at the edge of the tarpaulin by the time he reached it, smiling encouragement as he set it down.
“Okay. I’ll take it from here.”
Will watched her car
efully tip the contents of the box onto the canvas. Then she moved back to where he was standing and took off her hat and gloves. “Thanks.”
He smiled, unable to take his eyes off the bees. The swarm began to break up, moving across the canvas tarpaulin toward the opening in the bottom super.
“So they’re just going to go inside now?”
“Yep. It won’t take too long. Maybe half an hour. I might have to brush some of them off the branch to hurry them along.”
“And they’ll start up another hive in there?”
“That’s right. Look, there’s the queen. She’s the large oval-shaped one with the three stripes on her back.”
Will leaned over the tarpaulin and, after a few seconds, spotted the much larger queen. “She looks like royalty,” he said, “the way she’s marching across the canvas.”
“Yeah. Dad says it’s the equivalent of the royal wave.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “It’s natural to be wary of a swarm. I guess many of us remember getting stung as kids. And of course, some people are allergic.” Her face clouded over. “God, I never thought to ask if you were allergic.”
“It’s okay. I was stung once and nothing much happened so I guess I’m not.” She’d removed the bee suit and the front of her tank top clung to her in a large, damp V. Will glanced at her hand on his arm, instantly regretting it when she pulled it away. He’d liked the feel of her warmth against his bare skin.
His eyes drifted to her face, still flushed with the exertion of bringing down the branch. A drop of perspiration clung to one eyebrow and a strand of hair was plastered to her forehead.
Abruptly he turned his attention back to the swarm. “You were right. They’re almost all inside.”
“Safe and sound.” After a moment, she added, “How about a cold beer when we get back to my place?”
Will felt his tension begin to unwind. “I’d like that. Thanks.” Well worth snaring a swarm of bees.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNIE RAN THE TIP of her finger along the edge of her empty glass, peering down at it as if she found it far more interesting than the man sitting across the table from her. But she wasn’t fooling herself and likely wasn’t fooling him, either.
The strange fact was that even though she’d known Will for less time than it usually took her to grocery shop in Essex, she felt as though it had been years.
“You said your father’s surgery was tomorrow morning?” he suddenly asked.
“Hmm?” She raised her head. “Yes.”
“When do you expect him back?”
“Maybe not for a couple of weeks. His friend, Shirley, is hoping she can persuade him to take a bit of a holiday afterward. But knowing Dad, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I was thinking of looking for work myself. Maybe…in town.”
Annie stared at him. Was he asking her for a job on the farm?
She was debating whether to be frank and tell him straight out that they could barely afford to hire another part-time student when he added, “Just that I thought I might stick around the valley for a bit before…well, heading out on the road again. If you know anyone looking for someone to do odd jobs, I’d appreciate it.”
“What kind of work?”
He shrugged. “Anything really. Yard work. Basic carpentry. Whatever.”
“What did you do in New Jersey?” As soon as the question popped out, Annie felt the temperature in the kitchen drop.
There was a quick interplay of emotions in his face, as if he were having an argument with himself. He stared at his empty beer bottle. “I was a firefighter.”
“Oh.” She hesitated for a second before blurting, “Is that where—”
“Yeah. An accident.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything much to say. “The long story.”
A trace of a smile crossed his face. “The long story,” he repeated. After a moment during which Annie wished she’d never asked the question, he added, “Part of a burning roof collapsed on me.”
A simple statement, but enough to etch a vivid picture in her mind. “So are you on sick leave now…or holidays?”
“Actually, I quit. And that’s—”
“Another long story,” she finished.
“You got it.” There was a slight pause. “Maybe I should confess now how badly I wanted to run from that swarm.”
Annie bet he wasn’t the type to admit to a real weakness quite so nonchalantly, but she played along. “Could have fooled me.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re mocking me?”
He sounded stern but she caught the look in his eyes and smiled. Then she realized that she was practically flirting with a stranger in her kitchen. She looked down at her empty glass again.
“I guess I should be heading out,” he said after another long silence. He pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Thanks again for the honey, but you should let me pay for it,” he said, reaching for the small plastic bucket on the table.
“No way. As I said, I really appreciated your help.”
She followed him to the kitchen door and out into the yard. The sun had disappeared behind the honey barn roof and the yard, now in shade, was cooler. A faint breeze carried with it the delicate fragrance of the tulip poplar in full bloom at the corner of the house.
Will paused by the driver-side of the van and raised his face into the breeze. “Smells like spring.”
“Spring’s been here for a few weeks now. We’re a long way from New Jersey.”
“Yeah.” His expression was unreadable. “A long way,” he repeated softly, before abruptly opening the van door.
Annie peered over his shoulder into the van. “Looks like you’ve made yourself a cozy living space.”
“It works for me.” He set the honey inside. “That bench folds down into a bed and there’s a small fridge and propane burner for cooking. I stay at campsites wherever possible for the shower and laundry facilities.”
“There’s one not far from here,” Annie said impulsively. “Off the main highway back toward Essex. Rest Haven Camp, about ten miles outside the town limits.”
“Thanks for the tip. Maybe I’ll head there now and check out the job situation in the morning. And…thanks again for your hospitality, Annie.” He extended his right hand. “You took a chance asking a stranger with a story like mine into your home. I appreciate the opportunity to finally see Ambrosia Apiaries.”
Annie placed her hand in his. Touched by the gratitude in his eyes, she was tempted to invite him to stay for supper, but common sense prevailed. Still, she had to admit to a definite spark when his hand folded around hers. Even the way he said her name made it seem exotic, as if it belonged to someone else. Someone far more daring. She stepped back from the van.
“It was my pleasure, Will. All the best with…your road trip.”
He nodded and turned the ignition key. The engine’s rumble made any further talk pointless. Annie waved as he reversed, made a neat three-point turn and lurched forward. Will’s left hand tipped a quick goodbye. Annie watched until the van drove out of sight. When the last dust settled, she headed for the kitchen door, wondering why she felt so inexplicably deflated.
She cleared the table in silence and sat in the chair Will had just vacated, trying to see the room through his eyes. So ordinary really, lacking the flash of a modern kitchen. Yet there had been such awe in his face when he’d followed her inside that his odd story about the magazine article had rung true. His interest in the apiary was clearly serious and focused. She hadn’t wanted to admit that while he’d been dreaming of Garden Valley and beekeepers as a child, she’d been planning her escape.
Ironically, he’d more or less realized his fantasy while she…well, that was another story. A long one. Annie glanced instinctively upward to her bedroom and then closed her eyes. Once upon a time she’d thought by going off to college she could escape Garden Valley and for a while, she had. Until reality caught up with h
er in the form of an unplanned pregnancy.
Annie sighed and rose shakily to her feet. Tucking the letter deep into her dresser drawer had merely put it out of sight. When she reached her bedroom, she first piled her dirty laundry into a basket to take downstairs, retrieved soiled towels from the bathroom and, on the way, paused to peek into her father’s room. He’d made his bed and, as if he were coming home that night, had left his pajamas folded on top of his pillow. Annie teared up at the sight.
Finally, she opened her dresser drawer and took out the letters.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she read them again, starting with her aunt’s brief note. Annie knew that her aunt would expect her to call, especially with news of her father’s surgery. Although she appreciated Aunt Isobel’s wisdom and common sense, Annie also knew that this was her problem. Her aunt had done more than enough for her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the letter from the agency. Was Sister Mary Beatty the woman who’d counseled Annie? She remembered a woman whose quiet, non-judging manner had soothed Annie’s fears and guilt.
She lay back on the pillows at the head of her bed, letter still in hand, and stared up at the ceiling. She could simply toss it into the garbage and go on with her life. The agency wouldn’t bother her again. She closed her eyes, her thoughts flying back to August 12th, thirteen years ago, and the day she gave birth to a tiny baby girl.
And now that baby girl—a teenager—wanted to meet her. In spite of Annie’s curiosity about the person that baby had become, she wasn’t certain she wanted to relive an event from her past that still evoked guilt. The thought of coming face-to-face with…her daughter…was almost terrifying.
Daughter. The word sounded foreign to her, a concept she couldn’t connect with, even though she was a daughter herself.
If her mother were still alive, what advice would she give her? If her mother hadn’t set out for Essex on that icy winter morning, what would Annie’s own teenaged years have been like? If Annie hadn’t drunk so much the night of that frat party, what would she be doing that very moment instead of lying on her bed contemplating a meeting with the daughter conceived that night?
The Beekeeper's Daughter (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 3
