Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
CALLIOPE
“Let me get this straight,” Silver says, filling the end of the glazing table. “When I called you last night, you were sitting in a graveyard with your freaky neighbor.”
“I wasn’t in a graveyard. We just had to walk through it to get to the bonfire, and he isn’t freaky. He was really easy to talk to. We ended up hanging out for hours.”
“What did you talk about?”
I think back, a smile growing on my face as I pick up the donut sticks to flip over the batch in the fryer. “The mating calls of birds and lightning bugs. And whether soul mates exist.”
Silver looks over at me and blinks a few times. “That’s…nice?”
“It was, actually. We have some things in common. We’re both night owls, and we both relocated from the Midwest.”
“Well, be careful. If you had your eye on any other guy in town, I could likely give you a full criminal and family history. You chose one nobody knows.”
“I don’t have my eye on him. Not like that. I’m not interested in getting involved with a neighbor, but it was a relief to meet him and see he isn’t the sinister graveyard creeper that I had built up in my head.”
“That is a relief.” She steps back so I can slide the fresh donuts onto the glazing table.
“How was your anniversary date?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It was good. Kyle took me dancing and out to dinner.” She drops her voice to avoid her mother overhearing from the nearby office. “I’m thinking about asking him if he wants to move in together.”
“Wow. Ready for that next step?”
She leans against the table. “I think so. I love him. We get along great and spend like four nights a week together anyway. His lease ends in a few months. If I’m going to ask, it should be soon.”
“He told you when his lease ends?”
“Yes, kind of out of nowhere, too. He may have been hinting.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“I was talking to Sandra about it, and she thinks I should wait.”
I’ve only met Silver’s best friend, Sandra, once, but she seemed to be pretty level headed. “Does she have an issue with Kyle?”
Silver shakes her head, trading places with me so she can fry the donut holes while I ice the cake rings. “I think she’s just more cautious about guys in general. She always has been. She thinks a year is too early to move in together.” She sighs, glancing over at me. “Do you think so?”
Considering Silver and I are new friends, I’m flattered she wants my opinion. “Would you be on his lease, or would you get a different place together?”
“I own my house. He’d move in with me.”
“I don’t know that there’s any amount of time you should date before living together. A year, or two years doesn’t guarantee anything. If you want to be with each other more, that’s what matters.”
“I do and I’m sure he does too.”
“Then my opinion is go for it.” I bump her arm with mine as I pass by with a tray. “Besides, it’s your house. If he gets on your nerves, you can chuck him out. No harm no foul.”
“True,” she says, beaming at me.
“Just drop kick him now and I’ll move in,” Ethan calls out from the far side of the room where he’s clearly been eavesdropping.
Silver rolls her eyes. “Boy, prep your tomatoes and let the adults talk.”
The indignancy in his voice makes both of us laugh. “I am nineteen!”
“Exactly. I could be your mom. Well, if I had you at fourteen.”
Ethan turns around to lean against the counter, crosses his arms, and grins at her. “I’ll call you mommy if that’s what you’re into.”
“Hard pass. Don’t forget to ring the onions.” Unfazed, she turns back to her work.
Ethan teasing Silver is nothing new. He likes to flirt with me and Misty too. We’re always joking around, and I love how fun and relaxed our workplace is, unlike others I’ve endured.
“I’m wearing you down, Sil, I can feel it!” he says, disappearing into the walk-in cooler.
“Those Yeager boys. He has three older brothers just like him. They’re trouble, the whole family,” Silver says, shaking her head in his direction. The little fond smile on her face argues with the sentiment, and I’m glad she isn’t serious.
Not that I have any interest in any of them, but I don’t like the idea of judging someone by the rest of their family. I’ve spent too much of my life being blamed for half my blood and hating the other half.
Silver puts some music on, and we all work silently for a while. Ethan finishes what he’s working on and goes out to the dining area to restock while Silver and I braid dough for the donut twists.
An unfortunate habit of mine is getting lost in my thoughts then blurting out random stuff as if everyone knows what I was thinking. Silver is a victim of it tonight. “Did I tell you he’s a beekeeper?”
Her eyebrows rise. “Arlow?”
“Yes, he asked if I wanted to meet his bees.”
“Okay, that’s cute.”
“I thought so too.”
She peeks up at me, biting back a grin. “But you aren’t interested in him.”
Maybe there’s a little fascination. He’s so different. There’s a softness to him despite his rugged masculine demeanor. “I’m just innocently trying to make friends in a new town.”
She holds up her oil coated hands. “I’m not judging. If midnight graveyards and swarms of bees are appealing to you, I’ll tell you the same thing you told me. Go for it.”
I’m excited to visit the hives when Arlow invites me, but I’m surprised when he leads me to an ATV with a trailer attached. “Oh,” I pause. “We aren’t walking?”
“We can but I need to take some supplies up there. Do you mind riding with me? There’s an access road on the other side of the church. It isn’t far.”
I’ve passed the edge of that road—which is scarcely more than a dirt path barely wide enough to accommodate a car—on my walks down the street. Guess I’m going to see where it leads. “Okay, do we wait to put the bee suits on when we get up there?”
Slinging his foot over, he plants his ass in the seat, moving forward to give me room to get on behind him. “Yes, they’re stifling hot on days like this.” His long legs don’t let him sit too far forward which leaves little space for me. Straddling the seat, I’m so close to him my thighs press against his hips. “Put your feet behind mine on the footrest and hang onto me.”
I adjust my feet and bring my hands to his sides, gripping him lightly. “Are you ready?” he asks, tossing a shy smile over his shoulder.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Chuckling, he starts the engine and cruises down the driveway. The wind feels good once we turn onto the street, cooling the sweat on my skin despite our limited speed. The metal trailer rattles behind us. He navigates the corner onto the dirt road, bringing the church ruins into sight from a different perspective. I wonder if he’d mind if I explored them, too?
Thick forest marches past us on my right but it’s the clearing on the other side once we get past the church that makes me sit up straight and crane for a better look. An emerald field of clover appears vibrant against the duller grassy hill behind it. Gorgeous wildflowers spring up alongside the road and overtake the clover until all I can see is an exuberant mix of color. Wow, this was hiding just out of view?
Arlow slows down as the flowers turn back to a mix of clover and grass that’s been recently mowed. He steers us off the road toward three light colored wooden boxes standing in a line. The ATV stops before we get too close, and he kills the engine.
“You didn’t tell me it was a damn fairytale land up here!” I exclaim, climbing off.
“You like the flowers?”
“And the clover, it’s beautiful.”
The biggest smile I’ve seen from him bursts across his face, displaying his teeth. “Clover and wildflowers are beneficial for the hives. The bees don’t have to go far to find plenty of food.” He pulls two white suits out of the trailer and hands one to me. “Slip your shoes off first. There’s a strap that goes under your foot and the elastic should be tight against your ankle.”
The material doesn’t feel as thick as I expected, but it’s crinkly. We both step into the suits and get them zipped up. Before I can reach for it, Arlow pulls the hooded mask up over my head and reaches on either side of my neck, tugging two zippers forward to secure it.
“Are you okay? Not going to get claustrophobic on me?” he asks, his fingers still on the zippers as he looks through the netting. The way the sun highlights his eyes, turning them a light caramel color is distracting. They’re so pretty.
“I’m good.”
“Okay, hold your hands out.” He holds up a long glove and waits for me to slide my hand inside. It almost goes as high as my elbow, where the elastic holds it tight. After doing the same on the other hand, he puts his own hood on and slings a bag over his shoulder.
“Are you collecting honey?” I ask.
“No, it’s hard for bees to survive in this type of heat, so we’re going to help them keep the hives cool.” He picks up a smoker canister and a flat stick. “But first, let’s go have a peek at them.”
The buzzing is louder than I expected when we approach. Arlow stops to light the smoker and nods toward the first hive. “Do you see how they’re congregated around the entrance? That’s what they do when they’re too hot. They gather and use their wings to fan the hive, drawing out the hot air.”
“They’re smart.”
His nod is enthusiastic. “They are. In the winter, they all go inside and beat their wings to generate heat when it’s too cold.” He leads me toward one of the boxes. “Slow movements. The heat makes them grouchy.”
“Got it. I do not want to be on the wrong side of a grouchy bee.” We approach the hive and I catch his arm. “Wait! You forgot your gloves.”
“I don’t wear them unless I’m dealing with an aggressive hive, and these are pretty docile.”
“Don’t you get stung?”
“Occasionally, but the gloves are bulky and make it easier to accidentally smash some of them when I’m removing the cover or frames. When they’re hurt, they give off a warning pheromone that riles up the others to attack.” Smoke rises out of the can, and he aims it for an area around the top, dispersing a small group gathered there. “Bees don’t want to hurt you or attack for no reason. We just have to be easy with them.” He holds out the smoker. “Do you want to help?”
“Sure. What do I do?”
“Just follow along with the smoke while I get the top off.”
It’s easy enough to keep the smoke where he needs it as he takes the flat tool and gently pries around the top of the hive. I can’t help but wince at the sight of them crawling over his bare hands, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. “Okay, step back a little,” he warns. Slowly, he removes the top. It’s a little unnerving once the bees start landing on us and crawling over my face mask, but I’m also fascinated.
“Give them some smoke,” he directs, reaching into the box.
“Sorry for the lung damage, guys,” I tease, and he chuckles.
“Don’t worry. Bees don’t have lungs. The smoke interferes with their sense of smell, so they won’t react to the warning scent.” He brushes a few bees aside with his fingertips and holds up the frame.
“There’s no honey,” I point out.
“They haven’t started filling this one yet.” He pulls out the other frames one by one until he finds one that’s half covered in little sealed cells. “See, they’ve just begun on this one.”
“What are you checking for?”
“To see if the frames are full enough to need to be replaced. This top box is called the honey super. It’s the excess that I can take from them. First, they fill the brood box below this. They won’t start working on the top one until they have enough to support the colony.”
He replaces all but the last frame, offering it to me. “Do you want to put it back in?”
Of course I do. He takes the smoker while I carefully grasp the edges of the frame. I line it up and slowly slide it down, glancing at Arlow when a bee climbs in between the side of the box and the frame.
“It’s okay. Keep going.”
“I don’t want to hurt them,” I murmur, pressing the frame down the rest of the way. He’s right, gloves do make it hard to be precise.
“I know,” he says, his voice soothing. “It can’t be helped sometimes.” He puts the lid back on, but leaves it propped open on one side. “Okay, let’s get them some water and shade. Are you burning up in that suit yet?”
“Sweating like crazy, but I’m good.”
“This won’t take long.” He leads me back to the trailer where we grab some white cloth cut from bedsheets. “We’re going to drape these over the top to give them some shade and reflect the sunlight. Just be careful not to cover the entrances.”
Once that’s done, we return to the ATV where he pulls out a large plastic jug with a tray attached. “Are you giving them water?” I ask.
“Usually, the creek and another water station that’s in the clover field is enough, but they need a closer source right now.” He holds the jug up. “This is made for chickens, but it’ll work. It’ll go on one side of the hives and that container will go on the other.” He nods toward a wide tray filled with clay marbles.
Unfurling a length of hose with a siphon on the end, he sticks the other end into one of the water tanks and fills the jug, then the tray. “Where do you want it?” I ask, picking up the jug.
“On the ground on the far side of that hive.” As I’m doing that, he fills the tray and places it on the opposite end. We meet back at the ATV, and he circles me, sweeping his eyes over the suit and brushing a couple of bees off me. They head lazily back toward the hive, too hot to bother with us.
“Okay, you can take the suit off.” Without bothering to see if he had any bees on his, he strips it off. His hair is damp at his temples, sticking to his head. “Thanks for the help.”
The relief of the breeze on my skin is immediate. “It was fun.”
We both grab our water bottles and take a long drink. “I need to stop to fill the other water station, but if you’re ready to get out of the heat, I’ll run you home first.”
“I’m fine. I’d like to go.” Arlow returns the smoker and hive tool to the trailer, and we climb back on the ATV.
The watering station is a round container about the size of a kiddie pool. It’s about two feet deep, and one side is filled with rocks. Earth has been piled up against the outside rim to make a ramp on the same side. When I first put the birdbath in, I read about how you’re supposed to add a couple of rocks for the smaller birds to stand on. I assume the clay marbles in the water tray serve the same purpose for the bees. It’s not hard to see he’s arranged this so smaller animals can reach the water without getting stuck inside the pool.
“Tell me you have a camera out here to see which animals visit,” I remark, as he hooks the siphon up to the water tank again.
“That’s a good idea. I’ve never really thought about it. I put it here as another source for the bees and because there are a few wild rabbit dens close by. They love the clover.” He points to the trailer. “Actually, there’s a bag back there filled with vegetables for them. Do you want to spread them out near that rock?”
The bag is stuffed with peppers, lettuce, cabbage, and tiny misshapen carrots. “Did you grow these?” I ask. They’re from someone’s garden judging by the state of them.
“Mm hmm,” he replies absently, pumping water into the pool.
The more I learn about him the funnier it is that I was afraid of him before. A man who tends bees, grows a vegetable garden, and feeds bunnies. “Do you feed any of the other wildlife?” I ask, after laying out the food.
“I have a couple of squirrel feeders behind my barn.”
“So, you aren’t out here at night feeding coyotes or anything, right?” I tease.
He grins at me, turning off the flow of water. “I tried but they won’t come to me.”
“I’m almost convinced you’re joking.” He’s so at home out here, so comfortable. If I stayed, I think I could be too. It’s more than the quiet that makes it peaceful. The more I’m out in nature, the more it feels like I belong here. Pretty funny considering I was what the people here like to call raised on concrete .
Patches of wildflowers grow nearby, as if they’ve trickled away from the lake of them at the far end of the field. A beautiful mix of purples, blues, and yellows. “You can go and pick some,” Arlow offers, noting the direction of my gaze.
“Yeah?”
“Just watch for snakes in the tall stuff.”
The heat is forgotten as I jog over to them, breathing in the sweet scent. After I pluck out enough to fill the vase in my bedroom, I look up to see Arlow returning the hose to the trailer, his back toward me. He turns to see me watching him, and a shy smile blooms on his face, making me realize Silver might be right.
Neighbor or not, maybe I am interested.