Chapter 31 Eva
Eva
Arthur stared at the satellite phone in his hand, visibly distraught.
“Hey. It’s all right. We’ll find a better spot for a signal,” Eva said, touching the inside of his elbow and coaxing his attention back to her.
But the tension in Arthur didn’t release. “You don’t understand. He’s not well, and I… I have to protect him.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
For a moment, Arthur didn’t say anything, squeezing the phone in his grip as he took in a slow, steadying breath. “Nothing.” He turned to her and nodded to the canteen and tablets in her hand. “Let’s go down to the water.”
The rain had given the vivid blue Lotties surrounding them quite a battering, knocking some of the petals loose. At the meadow’s edge, Eva stopped and carefully bent over, plucking a clean, bright stem that had snapped at the base. She popped the whole thing into her mouth.
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?” she said. “It’s the same flower as our tea, isn’t it? I’m curious if it will help.”
His expression shifted to intrigue. “How does it taste?”
Eva considered, tonguing a silken petal against the roof of her mouth. “Vegetal.”
Arthur snorted a laugh.
Her ankle throbbed the whole way down the hill, the two of them retracing their steps back to the water. No doubt Izzy would caw after Eva to elevate her foot, and Eva would, after she let the cold river numb it up.
As they walked, she considered their options. There weren’t many. The most pressing priority, of course, was to reconnect the satellite phone, but Eva was starving, and so thirsty her throat felt scraped raw. So, water first.
Arthur noticed her struggling to keep pace, and offered to let her lean on him again. They hobbled through the woods, he in her father’s old boots and Eva in her still-damp tennis shoes.
When they reached the river, Eva sank onto the lip at the water’s edge with a relieved sigh.
Slowly, after removing her shoe, she eased her bare foot into the flow and winced.
The pressure of the quickly rushing water hurt the sprain, but if she angled it just right, the cool temperature also provided relief.
Soon her skin went slightly numb. It would hurt like hell when she had to stand and the blood rushed back down, but for now she would take the temporary relief.
“Toss me the canteen?”
Arthur did her one better, kneeling by the water’s edge and filling the canteen nearly to the top.
Eva dropped a water-purifying tablet in, her eyes sliding down his forearm.
Heat flamed across her chest as she thought of how those same hands had sculpted so reverently over her curves.
She looked up. Arthur’s hazel eyes were even more brilliant in the sunlight, and the unspoken something between them glowed a little brighter as he screwed the lid to the canteen back on, meeting her gaze with a smile.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. Eva blamed the river’s chill, and she turned from his steady gaze, leaning down to scoop a bit of water onto the back of her neck. “We have to wait thirty minutes for it to take full effect, I think,” she said.
“I could drink twelve canteens in thirty minutes.”
While they waited, Eva watched Bug pounce on little creatures in the grass, her tension slowly fading away.
The river had been a good idea. Occasionally the ice-cold waves splashed droplets against Eva’s face, refreshing her.
The rainstorm had made the whole forest glow, the world dyed its deepest and most vibrant shades, like jewels in a box.
She dipped a finger into the rushing water, her mind drawn back to the man stretched out on the grass behind her. The color of his infected skin was an alarming shade of strawberry. He spun the satellite phone between his fingers, watching the red light flick, flick, flick.
Eva plucked a stray blue Lottie from the ground and tossed it his way. “Try this.”
She expected his refusal. Arthur didn’t like using the flowers that way. But to her surprise, he not only accepted the bloom but, like her, popped it straight into his mouth. His nose wrinkled.
“Your dad’s tea is better.” That startled a laugh out of her, and after a moment, Arthur’s expression turned rueful. “What?”
“Nothing. You just… seem different.”
She felt different too.
Something fundamental had changed between them, and not just because of what they’d done in the shed. After so many years of buried feelings, perhaps such a release was needed. Inevitable, even.
When a honeybee landed on Eva’s knuckles, she smiled.
Wait.
Eva’s eyes widened at the sight of more bees flying overhead. It wasn’t unusual. She always had a few nearby, no matter where she went. They had likely sought out shelter during the storm and were now making their way back to their hives.
She drew in a breath.
“Eva,” Arthur said slowly, staring at her hand. “Is that…?”
Like a bolt of lightning, the realization sent a shock straight through her. Eva launched upright, causing the bee to take flight with a startled buzz. “Wild hives!” she exclaimed. “They must be nearby!”
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.
Long before her ancestors had dipped their toes into beekeeping, these meadows—the whole mountain, the whole world—had flourished under the hand of nature herself. It was the natural state of things to survive, regardless of human interference. Sometimes in spite of it.
Another honeybee landed on the tip of her nose, making Eva laugh. She should have thought of this the moment she and Arthur found the hive boxes empty, but her grief had overwhelmed her judgment. She’d forgotten what her father had taught her, that where there is life, there are always bees.
When the bee on her nose took flight, Eva grabbed her walking stick in one arm, tucking Bug under the other as she hobbled after it.
Arthur followed close behind as the bees led them deeper into the belly of the woods, the meadow and river shrinking behind them.
Eva knew they were close when the droning hive grew louder, and she held her breath as she approached a large, fallen chestnut and caught sight of tunnels of golden honeycomb constructed in its hollow.
There was a scar bisecting the trunk, the bark long split and overgrown with moss.
The death of the great giant had given way to new life in all its forms. The never-ending cycle of death and rebirth had always been one of Eva’s favorite things about the forest. She’d tried to show that to Arthur.
He thought what he could do was wrong, wicked even.
But a fallen tree wasn’t wicked. Neither was mulch, or the rotting fertilizer under the leaves that turned dead things into new possibilities.
Arthur was just like that.
“We did it.” Arthur sounded stunned as he stepped toward the wild hive.
“Wait.” Eva held out a hand, eyeing the bees carefully.
Some honeybees could learn the faces of their keepers.
That had served Eva and her family well.
But these bees didn’t know them. They might draw near in curiosity, but they wouldn’t trust Eva, especially once she and Arthur took what they’d come for.
The forest floor beneath her was saturating into a more vibrant shade of green, her rush of excitement pulling the plants into germination.
There was a large branch from the same snag lying in the grass nearby.
Eva knelt before it, sending insects squiggling away as she pried off a bit of the outer bark to use as a makeshift scoop.
The buzzing intensified.
“I can do it,” Arthur said.
She wanted to kiss him. “Don’t be stupid,” she said, putting a hand to his chest and pushing him slightly back. He already looked ready to topple.
Arthur caught her wrist. “But you—”
“Haven’t been stung in years,” Eva said brightly, though she had a feeling that was about to change. But she was also the quicker healer between them, and something about this moment felt like it belonged to her. She’d been the one to suggest they find the honey in the first place.
A vision of Dad flashed before her eyes as she neared the hive and crouched beside the beautiful, intricate design of comb work.
“I won’t take much,” she promised. Then she carved the bark into the honeycomb.
The bees frenzied immediately, and just as Eva had expected, one of them stung her on the arm, then a second, then a third.
She cried out, shoving to her feet and stepping back, back, back, into the safety of the trees.
Sticky honey slid into the gaps between her fingers, but a large chunk of honeycomb sat glued to the section of bark she’d used.
Arthur’s hands came around her upper arms. “Let’s go,” he said roughly.
Eva could already feel her stung skin beginning to swell, the bee venom triggering a rush of heat and pain. Tears came to her eyes.
But it was worth it.
Arthur guided her away from the hive, looping one arm around her shoulders to help Eva keep her weight off her foot. When she thought of Dad, her heart swelled. They’d done it. She couldn’t believe it!
What are you doing?
Eva gasped and dropped the honeycomb. Lotties burst through the soil at her feet, startled into life with the force of Eva’s surprise.
“Who’s there?” Arthur demanded. He snatched the honeycomb off the ground.
The voice sighed, a hollow sadness spilling through the breeze around them.
As Eva watched, the trees before them twisted their branches with a sharp, unnatural crack.
It wasn’t a gentle transformation but a brutal uprooting of parts.
The aspens groaned as the branches reshaped into a nearly human form, fluttering leaves flattening themselves against the pale bark in an eldritch mockery of skin.
The figure cocked her head to one side. You don’t recognize me.
Eva couldn’t tell if there was a question in those words or not. “Who are you?” she asked, unable to keep the shake out of her voice.
We’ve met before, beekeeper. A slash opened where a mouth might have been had she been flesh instead of forest. The strange, almost Cheshire smile sent a bone-chilling shiver down Eva’s back. Or do you not remember?
Eva’s pulse raced. When she’d seen this creature at the edge of the river, she’d brushed it aside as a trick of the mind. Now she faltered.
I suppose it has been years.
Arthur stepped forward, taking Eva’s hand in his as he put his body between her and the possibility of danger.
The figure seethed. Creature of want. You think I don’t see you behind his eyes?
Arthur tightened his grip. “You,” he said, disbelieving. His voice cracked. “How are you here?”
I belong to this wood. Now get out.
“I don’t understand,” Eva said.
I said GET OUT! A root snaked up from the soil and slithered toward her. Eva yelped and jumped back, landing too hard on her sprain. She let out a cry as a shock of pain shot up her leg.
Arthur ripped the root from the ground. It shriveled at his touch, slumping into a deadweight on the soil. Eva’s gaze snapped back to the figure, expecting her to be affected.
But the figure didn’t so much as flinch. I am the spirit of this wood, devil. Your tricks can’t unmake me.
“I’m no devil,” Arthur growled, sounding suddenly like a different person entirely. When Eva tugged on his arm, Arthur shucked her off.
This isn’t what he wants.
“You don’t know what Arthur wants,” he snapped. “You know only the surface of a sea, but he is my entire ocean.”
My son is—
“Not yours,” Arthur spat. “Not anymore.”
My son? Eva’s heart beat faster as the words rolled through her mind. “Arthur?” she asked as she looked between him and the rustling creature. “Who is she?”
The instant the question dropped off her tongue, Eva knew. There was only one person who made Arthur feel the way he looked now. Small. Broken.
Eva sucked in a tight breath.
Lottie.
He broke his promise to me. He promised to scatter my ashes and tell the bees I was gone. The sound of the spirit’s sorrow hurt, reaching into Eva’s very skull.
Eva had met Charlotte Connoway only once, when she’d dropped Arthur off on their doorstep.
That day was still so clear in her mind.
Eva could still see Arthur exactly as he’d been when he’d thrown open the door to her greenhouse and shoved a box of tools into her hands, when he’d told her he was no one.
She’d made that moment a flashbulb memory, all the other details fading into the background. Over time, Charlotte had become less and less a real person to her, and more the memory of an obstacle. She was a thorn. She was an irritant.
She was a ghost.
“We were going to scatter your ashes,” Eva said quickly, fear budding inside her as she pulled on Arthur’s hand, tugging him back. But where could they go? “We were just… interrupted.”
Lottie Connoway’s spirit turned her strange, arborous face to the sky with a crackle of branches. She let out a wail.
The suffering didn’t seem to move Arthur, his expression cold. “Why do you care?” he snarled. “Just let the boy go. Be done with this world.” He was vicious with her, more than Eva had ever seen. At that moment, he hardly felt like her Arthur at all.
The leaves around the spirit’s mouth curled back into a grimace. I need the bees. The echo of her voice swirled around Eva on the breeze, knitting into her hair and reaching deep into her chest.
There was pain in that reply, but an ugly part of Eva didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to see a softer side to the woman who’d so deeply neglected her best friend. Even when Eva and Arthur weren’t speaking, resentment had fueled Eva’s bitterness toward Lottie.
But bitterness, like fuel, burned out.
“Enough.” Arthur turned, pressing the honeycomb to his chest so the viscous golden liquid seeped into his shirt. “Come on, Eva.”
A feather of doubt touched the back of her mind.
He never called her Eva.
The figure called after them, as though she could see Eva’s thoughts laid bare. Don’t be fooled into seeing a man, beekeeper! Her voice sounded more inhuman in her agitation. He is something worse.
“Don’t listen to her,” Arthur snapped. Eva leaned against him for support as he led her away. She looked back, expecting the spirit to follow them, but the trees were already twisting back into place.
Her heart beat hard in her chest. Something was wrong with this forest.
“Damn woman can’t just leave him alone,” Arthur muttered.
Eva dug her nails into his side and looked up. From this angle, she could make out only the hard cut of Arthur’s jaw.
Something was wrong with him too.