Chapter Nine
When Lilah got home from school Glenn was still busy with his hives.
The careful work of opening up each hive, checking for a queen and assessing overall health.
Bee season began with a bang as soon as the weather warmed up and the bees became active, but he could hardly find time for his own bees in the spring when every client was calling. He never had enough time.
“Where’s Mom?” Lilah surged through the gate, fending off Charlie, who wriggled with delight. She shed her backpack and plopped onto the grass next to an open hive, careful not to put herself directly in the bees’ flight path. “She said she’d be here after school.”
Glenn set down the cover of the box he’d just opened.
He’d situated the hives far enough from the house that they wouldn’t cause trouble, but close enough where he could keep an eye on them.
A good, dry spot at the edge of the woods that got morning sun and dappled shade in the afternoon.
A fresh water source from the stream that trickled through the wetland and never entirely dried up, even in summer.
The top of the hive was alive with bees, a good sign.
He gave them a puff of smoke so they’d retreat.
“She’s having lunch with a friend, said she’d be back around three.
” Of course Sophie was late, when did she not disappoint?
Lilah ran a hand up and down along Charlie’s back, standing his hair on end. Back and forth until the dog turned in puzzlement to lick her. She was quiet, but Glenn felt the sharp edge of her disappointment.
“Hey,” he said, “hand me that bee brush, will you. It’s on the ground over there.
” His stomach had been in a knot since breakfast, remembering the way Lilah had looked at Sophie.
The frank longing. No matter what he did or how long he lived, he would never be enough.
Lilah would always yearn for her mother.
She retrieved the brush, but instead of handing it over, she began gently coaxing the bees off the top of the open box so he could lift out the frames.
“Want a veil?” he said. He hadn’t put one on since most of the bees were out foraging, but he had one at hand in case they got testy. You never knew.
“I’m okay right now.”
He stepped back to get out of her way. She was good with the bees, had a nice, quiet way about her.
Bees got agitated when people were jumpy.
“She’ll be back,” he said. “She wants to spend time with you. That’s why she’s here.
” It pained him to say this, but it was true. And Lilah needed to hear it.
“I know.” She didn’t look up but her shoulders unbunched a little.
“Why don’t you go ahead and lift out a frame.”
She carefully lifted the corners of the outermost frame, drawing it straight up and out to avoid crushing any bees. “This one looks good.” She held it up high with the sun to her back like he’d taught her so they could get a look.
“Plenty of brood, that’s what we like to see. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a queen in this one.” With his hive tool, Glenn carefully scraped off the burr comb along the top of the frame that would gum things up if he left it. The bees would fill every space if you let them.
Lilah leaned the frame against the outer box, and together they inspected the rest. “A little light on honey,” he concluded, “but that’s okay.
Now that the pollen flow’s started they’ll be fine.
” He never got over the industry of this all-female work force.
The drones, good only for mating, didn’t lift a finger around the hive.
In fact, the female worker bees kicked them out in the fall.
Shiftless males who would just take up space over the winter and gorge on honey.
He smiled to himself remembering how horrified Lilah had been when she learned that. “That’s so harsh! They just leave them to freeze to death out there?”
“They pretty much die of starvation first,” he conceded.
That was a few years ago. She was less sentimental now, which was a good thing. You couldn’t let your emotions get in the way with bees. Not every colony thrived. You had to sweep up the dead bees and go on.
He pierced a capped cell with his hive tool, and a drop of golden liquid oozed out. He held out the frame. “Go ahead and taste it.”
Lilah swiped a finger and brought it to her mouth. “Mmhm.” She smiled, and his heart eased a little that something so simple could still make her happy. He’d crack open every comb to get a smile like that. “You going to help me bottle again this year?”
“I always do.”
“Just checking.”
Charlie heard it first, the crunch of Sophie’s car turning up the driveway. He heaved himself up and trotted to the gate.
Lilah hesitated. “Do you mind if I go?”
Glenn waved her off. “Go on. She’s here.”
The bees had recovered from the smoke and were beginning to reemerge from the box. A few had become irritated and were buzzing around their heads. He needed to close this one up and get on with it.
Lilah toyed with the zipper on her backpack. “I mean to Vermont, like Mom said. Do you mind?”
He slid in the last frame and sealed up the hive.
Of course he minded. He hated the hell out of it.
He hated that Sophie had come in the first place.
He didn’t trust her and never would. Showing up with her cowboy boots and silver bracelets, dangling her affection like a gaudy prize. What motherless girl could resist?
He squeezed Lilah’s shoulder, comforted that he was looking into his own eyes. “Go if you want. Spend time with your mom, see your grandmother. It’s okay.”
“You sure?” She still looked torn. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
“Of course I’m sure. You don’t think I can manage to feed Charlie for a few days?”
She laughed and gave him a quick hug, then skipped off to see her mother.
. . .
They left for Vermont the next afternoon.
“Have her back by dinnertime Sunday,” Glenn said as he walked them to the car. “She’s already missing two days of school.”
“Don’t worry.” Sophie had on the cowboy boots and a suede jacket with fringe. God knew where she thought she was going.
Glenn folded Lilah in a hug. “Text me when you get there.”
“I will.” She gave him a kiss, but her eyes were on the jacket, the way the fringe swung when her mother moved.
“I packed you some snacks for the road.” He handed her a bag with peanut butter sandwiches and some apples. “There’s enough for your mom too.”
“We’re not going into the outback,” Sophie said, “but thank you.”
He waved them off, his heart a tight fist in his chest. Four days without her.
Lilah was older and warier than when she went to Colorado, but he could see her need to believe in her mother.
The way she’d tumbled off the bus, ready to go.
Her bag already packed. Maybe it would be different this time. For her sake, he hoped so.
He ate Mini-Wheats for dinner and washed the cereal down with a beer. Turned on the TV but couldn’t find anything to watch. The house was too quiet, and he finally turned it off and went to bed. Sleepless, he listened to the dog’s soft snoring and spun anxious scenarios.
What if Sophie didn’t bring her back? He had custody, but noncustodial parents ran off with kids all the time.
He would have to get a lawyer, go to court.
He sat up, heart pounding. Or what if Lilah decided she wanted to live in Colorado?
She was twelve, almost thirteen. Kids that age could have a say.
If given a chance, would she choose her mother over him?
He gave up on sleep and made a pot of coffee. Almost morning anyway, the sky just beginning to lighten, the birds setting up a racket. Outside the kitchen window, a smudge of orange singed the horizon.
He kept busy while they were gone. He drove to Wallingford to talk to an apple farmer about pollination and spent time with a client who’d bought top of the line equipment but didn’t know the first thing about using it.
He had to show the guy the basics, even how to securely fasten his veil.
He didn’t mind; he enjoyed beginners with their enthusiasm.
Poor Mr. Linden was at the other end—knew a lot but was frustrated he couldn’t handle it anymore.
Sunday afternoon he started watching the clock. He made meatballs, heavy on the cheese the way Lilah liked and put up a sauce to simmer. At four, he turned it off. Way too early. He’d said dinner time. That could be anywhere between five and seven. Even seven-thirty. Knowing Sophie, she’d push it.
By five, he had to get out of the house.
He went out to the shed and reorganized a couple of shelves, even though everything was already where it should be.
Vermont was a five-hour drive. There might be traffic, an accident on the highway.
Should he text Lilah? No, better to give them their time together.
But his stomach was wound tight, and at five-thirty he turned the sauce on to warm again.
Lilah would be hungry; he should be ready.
When the rental turned up the driveway at six o’clock, his heart flew up in relief. He and Charlie banged out the door, and he swung Lilah into a hug so huge her feet left the ground.
“Have a good time?” he said as he set her down.
“It was great! Grandma Nora’s house is really cool. It has a laundry chute from the second floor all the way to the basement and we went shopping in Stowe and Mom got me this jacket.” She twirled to show off a miniature version of Sophie’s jacket. Suede minus the fringe.
“Very nice.” He caught Sophie’s eye. “Thank you for getting her home on time.”
“Ye of little faith.”
“Has Charlie had dinner?” Lilah said. “He’s got his nose in my bag.”
“Not yet. You can feed him.”
Lilah disappeared into the house with Charlie on her heels, having heard the word dinner.
“When’s your flight?” Glenn said.
“Tomorrow morning but I’ll get a room near the airport.”
He was ready to have her gone, more than ready. But she’d stepped up and brought Lilah back on time, and Lilah would be thrilled to have her mother one more night. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight,” he said.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
He hefted her bag. “It’s fine. Lilah will like it.” Just one more night. He could do that.
“Thank you. That would be nice. I know you were worried about me taking her.”
“A little,” he admitted. More than a little, but she didn’t need to hear that. The main thing was she’d brought Lilah home when she said she would.
“I made meatballs,” he said, ushering her into the house, “but if you don’t want that, there’s salad.”