Page 41 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Regina stood there mesmerized as the queen’s high-pitched cries slowed. Then, all at once, it stopped. The bees pulled back from the ball they’d formed as if nothing had happened. The queen’s body sat there, lifeless and mutilated, in the middle of Regina’s hand.
She’d been young the first time she’d watched a hive decide their queen was no longer viable. When she’d told her mother about it, Helen had been worried Regina had to see it that way, all by herself. She’d explained that nature could be harsh, brutal even. But these things had to happen.
It was a lesson that had stuck with Regina.
Now, she turned the conversation with Violet over in her mind as she turned the queen’s torn and lifeless body over in her hand. Maybe it wouldn’t be terrible having a roommate, another person to take care of the house, the bees, the land, the way the workers took care of each other. Violet was right, the housewasquiet. But Regina preferred the quiet. It was why she rarely left Honeysuckle House, why she didn’t have any friends of her own. Were she a bee, she wouldn’t live in a hive at all. She’d be the solitary kind.
At least she wasn’t losing her sister to a man.
The sound of tires on gravel pulled Regina from her thoughts. She knelt before the hive and dug her fingers into the earth, deep enough to place the queen’s body in the dirt. Then, with a long breath, she made her way around the workshop to find Violet and Tillie opening up the back doors of the Pontiac, which was full to the brim with boxes.
As if sensing Regina’s approach, Violet turned. Her eyes lit up, and her look of love warmed Regina. She picked up her pace as she approached the car. Violet set down her box and wrapped Regina in a hug. Regina breathed her sister in—all rosewater and Appalachian forest.
When Violet pulled back, she gripped Regina’s arms lightly, and Regina wondered if she’d ever seen her sister so happy. The thought both softened her and twisted something deep in her belly. She tried her best to ignore it. If this didn’t work out, she could always light a candle, whether Violet approved or not.
“Do you have a few minutes to help us put these in m—” she stopped short. “In Tillie’s room?”
As much as Regina didn’t want Tillie there, she nodded. She could do this for Violet.
Tillie pulled a box out of the back and offered it to Regina. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” Though Tillie’s voice was bright, her smile bigger than Regina had ever seen it, there was a slight narrowing of her eyes, a hesitation in the way she stood.
Regina took the box, maybe a bit forcefully, but she smiled back, her mouth tiring quickly. “It’s a big house.” She turned and carried the box up the front steps.
When the door opened for her, she frowned. Part of her had hoped the house would share her sentiments and refuse to let them in with Tillie’s things. As if sensing her mood, the house cradled her first step over the threshold, the hardwood soft underfoot, a bit like a hug or an apology, and she relaxed the tension in her shoulders. Violet and Tillie followed her with boxes of their own. Regina took the stairs up to the second story, one floor below her own room. The lights turned on overhead as they went down the hall, and the door to the guest room that never saw guests creaked open.
The bed sat fresh and clean, the window cracked, a soft fall breeze fluttering the curtains.
Behind her, Regina heard her sister murmur, “Thank you.”
Regina set the box down and, with a touch of bitterness in her voice, said, “It seems the house is happy to have you.”
Tillie arched an eyebrow.
“It’s always loved her,” Violet said warmly as she bumped Tillie’s shoulder with her own. “Come on, let’s get the rest of the boxes.”
After two more trips, the only things they had left were Tillie’s houseplants: a fiddle leaf fig that came up to Regina’s hip, a parlor palm, and three philodendrons in macrame hangers. Regina lifted two of the philodendrons, while her sister wrestled with the fig.
As Regina made her way toward the stairs, Violet paused and said, “This will be perfect in the front sitting room.”
“And we can hang one of the philodendrons in the kitchen and another in the bedroom!” Tillie said. “Maybe the third in the library upstairs?”
“The palm would fit well there, too,” Violet said. “Let me drop this one off. I’ll take one of those philodendrons, Regina.”
Regina stood there, a plant hanging from each hand. She’d resigned herself to Tillie taking up a spare bedroom, but in her head, Tillie would be in her room. There would no trace of her anywhere else—more of a boarder than a proper roommate. But Tillie’s plants taking up residence in Honeysuckle House meant Tillie herself taking up residence in a much bigger way than Regina had let herself come to terms with.
Regina set the plants down and crossed her arms. “I thought Tillie’s things would go in Tillie’s room.” Regina made no effort to mask the bite in her voice.
Violet winced, and Tillie gave Regina a long look that edged on a glare before she took a step toward Violet. They stood side by side, shoulders touching. Violet leaned into Tillie, and all at once the feeling Regina had earlier that afternoon came back to her, like somehow she was losing Violet to Tillie, that if she let this continue—whatever this was—things would end with Regina alone, the only family she had left taken from her by this other woman.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Regina said. “Your parents take the shop from us, and now you’re here taking the house.”
“You sold the shop to my family,” Tillie said.
Regina started to speak, when Violet cut her short.
“Why don’t we put the plants down and take a break?” Violet’s voice was soft and gentle, a tone Regina had only heard from her sister the few times their bees had swarmed and then that first day after their parents’ deaths. Though Regina prickled that Violet was so clearly trying to calm her, she also found her stomach starting to unknot.
“I’ll mix us some Manhattans,” Violet said. It was Regina’s favorite drink.
