Page 74 of Must Love Bees
Astrid was smiling as she pulled her hood up and zipped it closed. For all his frowning and snipped tone, he wasn’t angry. She was beginning to figure Charlie Driver out. It was a slow process but, the more she knew, the more it made sense. Words weren’t his thing. Actions were. He was worried about her. And, if he worried about her, it could only mean one thing. One big, wonderful thing that filled Astrid with excitement and hope. Charlie Driver, this big, broken, gentle and uncertain beautiful man, might care about her.
ASSOONASKerrielynn had the hive lid open, the sound of buzzing increased exponentially. Charlie waited for a cloud of angry bees to rise and attack. He grabbed the back of Astrid’s suit so he could pull her along with him, just in case.
But the bees stayed calm, flitting around the hive and going about their business.
He watched as Kerrielynn moved slowly, her voice steady and even as she continued to narrate her process.
“Slow and precise movements help,” Astrid whispered. “Tone of voice, too. Like any living creature, bees will pick up on stress and respond to it.”
“I remember.” That was why he was here, ready to whisk her away—whether she liked it or not.
By the time Kerrielynn and Benji had finished, Charlie was impressed by both young people. He might not be able to understand the motivation but he could appreciate their focus and ability.
It was when Astrid took over that Charlie began to see beekeeping differently. Astrid was graceful in everything she did. That included working with bees. Her movements were fluid and slow. Her voice was coaxing and affectionate. More than that, she was wholly engrossed in what she was doing.
The more he watched and listened, the more interesting beekeeping became.
If his damn phone hadn’t vibrated, he would have forgotten it was a Monday. Work existed. Always. They wouldn’t care he’d worked through the weekend to prevent a major breach. That was done. There was more work to be done today. And, if he wanted to stay employed, he’d do well to remember that.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. Not work.Lindsay. His stomach twisted.
Arriving Thursday night to explore the town. Don’t worry, we won’t bother you. I didn’t want to run into one another and trigger one of your episodes.
Charlie read and reread the message.One of your episodes.He hadn’t seen Lindsay in years—intentionally.
His phone started ringing then, startling him so that he almost dropped it. “Sorry.” He froze, hoping the phone wouldn’t send the bees on a rampage. He glanced at Astrid, whose smile was barely detectable through the layers of mesh covering her face, and took a deep breath. She was fine. She’d been doing this for years.
But Yasmina had been a cyclist for years.
The cold, hard truth of that turned his stomach to lead. He stared at Astrid, still happily working. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t. He silenced his phone and shoved it into his pocket.
Whoever was calling was insistent. The damn phone kept vibrating and vibrating. It could be the girls. It could be work.Dammit. He took several steps away from the beeyard—Astrid called it an apiary—and pulled his phone out and pressed it against his ear. He turned back to ensure he could still see her. “Hello?”
“Mr. Driver? This is Calvin Walsh from Walsh Brothers Air-Conditioning.” His voice was muffled by the bee suit’s hood, but Charlie could still understand well enough. “We had a cancelation today so we can come check out your unit in, oh, about ten minutes?” The man waited.
Ten minutes. He glanced at Astrid. She was waving all the Junior Beekeepers closer so they could see something on the frame she was holding. There was a whole other hive to inspect. That would take longer than ten minutes.
“Mr. Driver?” Calvin Walsh was waiting for his answer.
“Yes.” He knew he was overreacting. Astrid was an adult and more than capable of doing her job. She’d been doing it for years before he’d arrived and she’d be doing it for years long after he left. He swallowed. Where the hell had that come from? And why the hell did it feel like he’d been kicked in the gut? Leaving hadn’t been something he’d contemplated much the last few days but... It had only been days. Days. That was all. Nothing had changed. Not really. “That sounds good.”
“See you then.” The phone went dead.
First, Lindsay’s comment. Then, Astrid’s safety. Now this arbitrary reminder that they were leaving. Not leaving. Going home—where they belonged. Back to their real lives. Where life was scheduled and organized and familiar...
Where Astrid didn’t exist.
Hot tension bubbled up. Calming breaths. Deep and even.
The burning pressure expanded slowly, pushing up and out against his ribs and compressing his stomach.
He kept breathing but it was more gasping now. Ever so slowly, the world was shrinking, closing in on him.Dammit. He looked overhead, at the wide-open sky. It didn’t help.
Sweat beaded along his upper lip and trickled down his back. His pulse was accelerating. Soon he’d be shaking. No, dammit, he’d get it together. Walk it off. But, just in case, he didn’t want to be here if that happened.
He turned on his heel and headed down the path back to the house. The tape over the hood sticker wouldn’t give. He tried once, then again, but his fingers were so slick with sweat he couldn’t get a grip on the fabric. He wiped his hands on the front of his suit but the multilayers of flexible fabric were coarse and abrasive against his fingers. There was tape over all the zippers. Keeping him safe—keeping him trapped.
Suddenly, the suit was sweltering. His skin was raw and itchy. He tried to steady his breathing, but the rising panic gripped him by the throat and made it damn near impossible.
