Chapter 8 #2
No sooner than the words leave my mouth, we can hear the engine turn over.
Naudi grins. “Right on time.”
“Don’t feel sorry for him spending the day on the tractor. It has air conditioning and a better stereo system than my truck.”
“I’ve never even been close to a tractor. The closest I’ve come is highway department vehicles that work on the roads. Can I ride in it?”
“We might can make that happen, once you’re feeling better.”
“I’m better. The soreness is still there, but my ribs aren’t as tender. Just not ride a tractor better. Can we at least walk around and see things? I’ve never been on a farm either.”
“You’re still hurting.”
“I’ll walk slowly.”
“You say that now.”
“And I mean it.”
She holds my gaze and waits. I let out a breath. I’m not going to tell her I already planned to take her around the farm. Just in a way that won’t tax her. “Alright. We’ll take the Gator.”
That gets a real smile out of her and then she asks, “What’s a Gator?”
Now there’s a smile on my face too.
The Gator rattles to life beneath us, the familiar vibration in my hands as I guide it away from the house.
I took the time to fix a basket of very simple snacks and sandwiches in case we get hungry. I have no idea how long she can be out without tiring so I’ll need to keep watch.
Naudi sits beside me, one hand gripping her side, the other holding onto the edge of the seat like she doesn’t quite trust the ride. I’m careful to go slow and bypass all the ruts and rocks.
“You do this every day?” she asks.
“Most days.”
“I think I’d enjoy this part.”
“Just this part?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she says with a laugh.
I huff out a quiet breath. We start with the field nearest to the house. She’s seen it from the porch, but she needs to see it up close.
As we draw near, she gasps. “This is unreal,” she murmurs.
I drive around two sides and stop.
“Can we walk for just a bit? I’d like to see them closer.”
“Sure.” I hold out my hand and she doesn’t hesitate to take it. I stay by her side as she walks into the thick of the rows of flowers. Slowly she spins in a circle. “How many different flowers are here?”
“This is a wildflower blend. I’ve never really counted. A bunch.”
“You planted all of these?” She bends to smell a black-eyed Susan.
“Yes, we cultivate and plant in the early spring, then summer, and fall. We have four one-acre fields of flowers.”
“Why so many flowers?”
“For the bees.”
She looks at me, head tilted to one side. “All of this… just for them?”
“Well, we do let the Hudsons gather some for their florist business in town. But after they take what they want, you really can’t tell any are missing.”
“This has to be a lot of work.”
“Happy bees don’t leave their queen and they work better. And maybe this is the secret to the unique honey they produce.”
She shakes her head, awe crossing her face. “That’s… kind of incredible.”
I don’t respond. I know people find what we do out here fascinating. I have always found it so myself. She steps closer to a cluster of pale pink blooms, her fingers hovering just above them.
“Are you ready for more? Or we can go back to the house if you need to rest.”
“More, please.”
That proper, casual comment shouldn’t have sparked a sudden mental image. Especially not one of her beneath me saying those exact words in a totally different context.
What am I doing? I hurry her back to the Gator with the pond as our next destination. I just might jump in, clothes and all.
It doesn’t take long to get there, no more than ten minutes. I park the Gator beneath a live oak tree that sits atop a slight hill. The pond is farther back, tucked into a dip in the land where the water stays still and reflective most all year.
“It’s bigger than I expected,” she comments.
“Most people say that.”
“Is it for the bees too?”
“Yes, but this pond has been here longer than our hives. It’s a freshwater pond on an island, which is unusual. Scientists have even come from the mainland to study it.”
“Do you think it’s like the fountain of youth?”
“If it is, it doesn’t work very well. As kids, my sisters and I spent a lot of time in the pond and, well, I look like an old man.”
She punches my arm. “You do not. Are you trying to get a compliment out of me because you know you are handsome?”
My face warms and I wish we were talking about something else.
She snickers at my discomfort. “I can’t believe you’re embarrassed about that.”
“Are you hungry? I brought food. We could sit under the tree for some shade, or we can go back to the house.”
“Okay, I get it. Subject dropped and no, I’m not hungry. Can we see the bees now?”
We drive around the pond and down a dirt road cut between a forest of trees. When we break through the grove, I slow as the fields open up. More rows of flowers are visible and as we drive through them, a low hum is the first indication of bees ahead.
The hum becomes stronger and Naudi goes still beside me.
“Is that them? The hum?”
“Yes. As soon as we reach the end of the row, you’ll see them against the tree line.”
She sucks in a breath as I slow further and then stop well back from the actual business end of the bees.
“That’s…a lot.”
“We have around three hundred hives. Technically we could have more, but this is what we can handle without being slaves to the business.”
She angles forward slightly, eyes wide. “They’re everywhere. What are those people doing?” She nods toward the workers in white protective suits.
“Checking frames. Watching for disease. Pulling honey if it’s ready.”
“And you just…let them do that?”
“We have a schedule and those guys and women have been working here a long time. They know what they’re doing.”
We sit and watch for a few minutes. I answer her many questions. She seems genuinely interested in the business. As we talk, I grab us a bottle of water and a couple of sandwiches from the cooler in the back.
I’ve been on dates. I’ve gone out with my share of women, especially in college, but I’ve never been so at ease or enjoyed time spent with any of them like I do with Naudi.
What is even more confusing is I haven’t once let my emotions shut down my brain or mouth.
Usually, I’ve already offended a woman after spending this much time with her. Not intentionally, it just happens.
“Do you feel up to one more stop before we call it a day?”
“Yes, I’m not tired at all.”
I drive us around to the east edge of the property away from the main clusters of hives. This is the oldest part of the farm. Secluded. I cut the engine and let the quiet wash over us.
“Are these the bees in timeout?” she asks with a chuckle.
I grin at her joke. “These”—I point toward the two weathered hives ahead of us—“are the originals.”
“How old? How long have they been here?”
“These hives are older than me. They were established before my dad even. We have some old paintings in the house of landscapes that show the hives, so they could be original to the house. We’ve had to do repairs through the years, but technically the original hives are still in production.”
“Wow. That’s kind of amazing.”
“Yeah.”
She twists in her seat trying to get comfortable. It’s clearly time to head back. But first… “Stay here.”
“You’re not going out there, are you? With the bees?”
I glance at her and wink. “I am.”
“Walker.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“But, Walker…” There is real concern in her voice.
“I promise you I will be fine. Just stay here and I’ll be right back.”
“You think that’s reassuring, but it isn’t,” she calls out to my back.
I walk toward the hives, the familiar hum buzzing around me as I reach it. Slow movements. Steady hands. Routine. I lift the lid and ease a frame free, exposing the thick, golden honeycomb.
Bees fly around me but don’t light. They go about their business unbothered by my presence. They’re used to me. I hear her voice behind me.
“Walker, please be careful.”
I pluck a section of the comb and slowly return the frame. “Thanks, guys. You can get back to work now.”
I hold up my prize as I near the Gator. Her eyes are huge in her slightly pale face. I feel guilty for worrying her.
“You’re not stung?”
“No.”
“How? Why do they not sting you?”
“They only sting if they feel threatened. You don’t give them a reason to fear you.”
“That feels like a risk assessment I would fail.”
I smile at that and break off a piece of comb, holding it out to her. “Try it.”
She hesitates, then takes the honey. The second it hits her tongue, her expression changes. “Oh.”
Instantly, my body reacts to that sound of pleasure. “Yeah.”
“That’s…”
She shakes her head, searching for words. “That’s the best honey I’ve ever had.”
“Told you.”
We sit quietly and finish the golden snack. Then I reach in the back for a wipe to clean the sticky mess from our hands.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“For so many things, but for today. I’ve enjoyed learning about your world. I’m not sure I will ever be brave enough to do what you just did, but I hope you will share with me again.”
She smiles and that’s when I see it. A small drop of honey right at the edge of her bottom lip.
I shouldn’t have noticed. Should have looked away, but I can’t tear my stare away.
Her tongue comes out, brushing over it slowly but completely missing the drop.
And that is it. Everything narrows. Stills.
Focuses. Her eyes lift to mine and hold.
Then her eyes move to my mouth, sending the same message I am.
She feels it too. We both lean in at the same time, closing the small space between us.
She lifts her chin. An invitation so subtle, but I don’t miss it.
Her lips part slightly. I’m close enough to feel her breath on my face.
I need to taste the sweetness of not only the honey, but her lips as well.
We move a fraction closer. Just a little more and…