The Beekeeper's Daughter (Harlequin Super Romance) (2 page)

That was the issue, he mused as he searched the signs at each crossroad after leaving Essex behind. His ex-wife had once accused him of running away from his problems and he’d bristled at the suggestion. Yet here he was, proving her right. Suddenly he caught the sign for Dashwood Side Road, slammed his foot on the brake and turned onto the hard-packed gravel.

Five miles in, the man had said, and then make a left at somebody’s orchards. Will had forgotten the name of the farm itself, but the barn behind the house was supposed to be bright red. Weren’t all barns red? He was going less than twenty miles an hour and had plenty of time to make his turn when he spotted a red
barn and silo immediately ahead on his left. What he failed to notice was the other vehicle coming at him like a tornado.

Pebbles and dirt pelted the van as Will cranked the steering wheel right. By the time he’d straightened out the van, the other vehicle—a mud-brown pickup—had disappeared. Damn. Country drivers were no better than city ones. Will kept going, occasionally checking the rearview mirror in case the maniac in the pickup came back.

Another three or four miles after the turn, according to the store owner, and he’d see the sign at the end of a long driveway. Will passed fields of some kind of bushy, flowery crop on both sides of the road, crossed over a narrow stone bridge spanning a strip of bubbling water, rounded a curve and spotted a yellow and black sign up ahead on his left. As he drew nearer, he pulled over and turned off the engine.

The sign, with its curlicue scrawl
Ambrosia Apiaries, J. Collins and Family,
had seen better days. It had been fashioned out of sheet metal into the shape of a picture-book-style beehive. But the apex of the hive had twisted into a rusting knot. Will guessed that the scattering of black spots was supposed to be honeybees. Or maybe the yellow paint had just worn off.

He sat for a moment. What should he say?
Just passing through from New Jersey and happened to notice the sign.
He cursed again.

He’d never really expected to find the place. The ar
ticle had been written years ago and who would have thought that the apiary, with its tired old sign, would still be here? A twelve-year-old kid’s boyhood fantasy. Buying honey was the plan. Besides, he couldn’t leave without at least seeing the place. Maybe he’d even catch a glimpse of the girl in the picture—Annie. The girl he’d once befriended in his imagination. Someone with a family that could be traced back a few generations.

He was about to drive up the lane when he noticed a vehicle approaching from behind. Will watched as it grew larger in the rearview mirror. Seeing the square front end of a mud-brown pickup, he frowned. The same crazy driver who had almost sideswiped him? The truck slowed as it passed. Maybe he’d have a chance to give the guy a piece of his mind. Then it turned sharply into the driveway to the apiary and lurched to a stop.

Will waited, his eyes riveted on the pickup. Someone was getting out, striding purposefully toward him. Male or female? The sun was in his eyes and Will couldn’t decide if the person was being confrontational or not. Trouble was the last thing he was looking for, but on the other hand…

Will realized with some relief that the driver was indeed female. Very female, he thought. Jeans and a loose shirt failed to conceal the evidence. The unbuttoned shirt flapped open in the breeze to reveal a form-fitting tank top. She marched right up to his open window.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Her voice was confident and challenging. She was blocking the sun and as Will peered up, he realized that it was her. Annie of the magazine article. Same honey-colored hair, no longer braided but skimming her shoulders, and same heart-shaped face. And definitely no longer an eleven-year-old girl.

He cleared his throat. “I, uh, was driving by and noticed the sign. Thought I’d buy some honey. Are you the owner?”

Her golden brown eyes narrowed. She pursed her full, naturally rosy lips and didn’t speak for a long moment. “Buy some honey,” she repeated slowly.

Her tone made the excuse seem wildly implausible.

She scanned the side of the van. “You’re not from Sunrise Foods, are you? A private investigator?”

“I’m just here for honey. And I’d love to see your apiary.” He climbed out of the van and leaned against the door.

“See the apiary,” she echoed, giving him the once-over.

Will sighed. He took off his baseball cap, realizing at once from the way her eyes widened that the inch of hair covering his scalp wasn’t a reassuring sight. “It’s actually a long story. Some years ago I read a magazine article about a family of beekeepers.”

Something flickered in her eyes.

“I know this may sound crazy,” he continued, “but ever since I read it I’ve wanted to see the place. And, uh, well, so I came.” When she still didn’t speak, Will reached through the window for the article on the pas
senger seat. As he straightened, he saw that she was looking at the scar on the right side of his face. Her eyes moved quickly back to his.

“Were you in some kind of accident?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Another long story.”

“Does it still hurt?”

It was a refreshing question, not the standard two or three he usually got. “Sometimes.” He stretched out his hand and she took the magazine article. She skimmed it for a few seconds, smiling.

The effect was transforming and when she raised her face again, her smile washed over him like warm water. He felt lighter somehow and the knot between his shoulder blades was gone.

“I remember when this was written,” she said.

“Is that you in the picture?”

“Yes, and my dog, Skipper. Long gone now.”

“And your parents?”

She peered down at the article again. “Yes, those are my parents. My mother and grandfather, next to Dad there, are dead, too. My great-grandfather was the
J
in the sign back there. John Collins. Dad was named after him.” She held out the article.

Will stepped closer, relieved she didn’t inch away. Up close, he noticed a smatter of pale freckles across the narrow bridge of her nose and a tiny dark mole at the corner of her mouth. A beauty spot, it would have
been called once. In her case, appropriate. She had the healthy, wholesome looks of the all-American girl but there was something else in her face, too, he decided. A hint of sadness perhaps.

“I guess you should come up to the house then, and get your honey.”

“I’d like that,” he said. “By the way, I’m Will Jennings.” He held out his right hand.

She clasped it, surprising him with her quick, strong grip. “Annie Collins—but you already knew that.” Her eyes held his a moment longer and then she said, “Follow me in your van. It’s about a quarter of a mile up the driveway.”

Will waited until she’d climbed into the truck and fired up the engine before his fingers fumbled at the keys in the ignition. As he followed the truck up the driveway, he caught glimpses of fields through the row of trees lining the gravel road. The fields seemed to stretch out forever. When the white-framed farmhouse with its wraparound veranda and gingerbread trim came into view, Will felt as though he had come home.

A
NNIE CHECKED
her rearview mirror. She couldn’t believe she’d just invited this guy up to the farmhouse for a tour of the apiary. What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be back at the Vanderhoff place to retrieve the swarm in their apple orchard. That’s where she’d been heading when she’d almost forced him off the road. At least, she was pretty certain now that it had been his van she’d spotted at the last second as she’d made the turn.

He wasn’t the first person to wander into the apiary in search of honey or even out of curiosity. The year after the magazine article came out, the place had been deluged with tourists. But it had been a long time since anybody had arrived, magazine in hand.

Twenty years later and he still had the article? If she were in the city, alarm bells would have been clamoring in her head. Stalkers. But this was Garden Valley, for heaven’s sake. Besides, the look in his eyes and her own instincts convinced her his story—though weird—was legit.

Her father would have given the man a tour. There
was nothing he liked better than talking to unexpected visitors about the habits of the honeybee and the curative powers of honey.

She took her foot off the accelerator and let the truck coast the last few yards around the side of the house to the kitchen door. No sign of Danny yet. When she’d seen the size of the swarm at the Vanderhoffs’, she knew she’d need help to get it down and had come back for Danny.

Annie was unlocking the door to the barn when Will Jennings climbed out of his van. He paused to look around the yard and his smile wiped out any doubts she’d had about bringing him up to the house.

“This is…” He stopped, as if he couldn’t find the right words. “You were very lucky to grow up in a place like this.”

“Hmm.”
More or less.
She was about to ask where he’d grown up but something in his ensuing silence warned her off.

“Come on inside,” she said, pulling the door open. “This is the honey barn. Years ago when my great-grandparents were alive, this was still a working farm and they kept animals in the barn, as well as storing grain and hay. They only had one or two hives back then. It was my grandfather who made the transition from farming to beekeeping.” She flicked on the lights and watched his reaction.

Will didn’t say anything at first, just made a slow turn, taking it all in—the huge gleaming stainless steel
extractors, the settling tank, shelving units filled with various beekeeping essentials, frames for supers neatly stacked in corners and two long, sturdy wood tables. Counters ran along two walls beneath windows obviously not original to the barn. Will stretched to peer out one of the windows. “There was a picture of rows of hives in a meadow in the article,” he said.

“When the article was written, my father and grandfather were still planting crops in the back acreage. We have a few hives in a buckwheat field my father plants every year but most of them are on neighboring farms.”

“Why? Don’t you have to rent the land from them?”

“No. They’re happy to have our bees because they pollinate their orchards and crops. Plus, we give them honey.”

“How many hives are there?”

“We used to have about three hundred, but after Pete retired a couple of years ago we’ve been gradually reducing the number. I think we’ve got about two hundred and thirty now.”

He whistled. “What’s this?” he asked, leaning over the extractor.

“A honey extractor. It’s electric, but they used to be hand-crank. The frames from the supers—those white boxes over there—are slipped into these slots—” she pointed “—the extractor spins and the honey falls into the well and comes out the spigot. It all works by centrifugal force.” She bumped against him as she turned away from the extractor. “Sorry.”

Annie lost her train of thought. She felt her face heating up and she turned aside, gesturing to one of the shelves. “After extraction, we transfer the honey into a settling tank where all the debris rises to the top. Then we pour it into buckets. It’s a pretty simple process.”

Annie stopped, her voice echoing in the spacious barn. She was babbling, she suspected. But then wasn’t that understandable when the guy’s only response was to fix his blue-gray eyes on hers?

“Look,” she said, unsettled by his level stare, “I’ve got to remove a swarm of bees down the road. I’ll get you some honey and then—”

She broke off when she saw him frown, obviously disappointed. “Oh, sorry,” he said quickly. “Well, uh, thanks for showing me around. As I said, I’ve been curious about this place ever since…since I read the article.”

Again, Annie relented. “My hired help hasn’t turned up yet. Maybe you’d like to come with me? It won’t take long and I could show you the rest of the place after.”

His smile took ten years off him.

“I’d love that, if I won’t be in the way.”

“Not at all. In fact, I think you may actually be a help.” Annie headed for a nearby cupboard. She couldn’t explain why she’d been so impulsive, but he’d roused her curiosity. Handing him a tub of honey and waving goodbye was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I’ll just get my suit and a cardboard box, check for phone messages to see if Danny’s called and then we’ll be off.”

“Danny?”

“He’s a high school student who’s going to work for us this summer. Why don’t you wait by the truck while I pop into the kitchen?” When she came out less than five minutes later, he was standing by the truck, looking around him as if he’d just landed in some exotic locale. “All set?” she asked.

“That’s it? Just the canvas and a cardboard box?” His frown reappeared. “How can you catch a swarm of bees with that?”

Annie smiled. “You’ll see.”

W
ILL CONSIDERED
Annie’s deft handling of the pickup as she maneuvered it around the potholes in the gravel road and realized that, in spite of his first impression of her driving skills, she knew what she was doing. “Was the swarm the reason you almost collided with me at the corner up there?”

“So that
was
you I almost mowed down.” She grinned. “Not really. I mean, I should get the swarm as soon as possible before it moves somewhere else, but I was expecting Danny any minute and I was rushing to assess the situation and get back before he arrived. I didn’t notice your van till the last second. Sorry about that. Dad’s always on my back about my driving but I’m not really as reckless as I look.”

Will thought about how she hadn’t noticed a van on an otherwise empty country road, but decided not to belabor the point. He stared out the window, spotting the red barn and the farm at the junction ahead. “So, three of you manage all those hives?”

“Actually it’ll just be the two of us for a few weeks. Dad’s gone to Charlotte for a hip replacement. Afterward he’s supposed to be taking it easy, though I’ll probably have to tie him to a chair to stay put.”

Turning, he caught her wide grin. With the splash of freckles across her nose, she looked like a teenager.

“Have you always lived and worked here?”

“I grew up in Garden Valley—as you know. But I left to go to University of North Carolina in Charlotte and after graduation I taught high school in New York. Queens.”

“A long way from home,” Will said.

“Yes,” she said, “a long way.”

He tried to picture her in front of a class of street-smart adolescents. “That must have been tough—teaching high school in New York.”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. “At first, but by my fifth year I was a pro.”

“How long did you teach altogether?”

She glanced his way. “Almost six years before I came back to the Valley.”

“Because your dad needed you,” he repeated.

“Yessss,” she said, drawing out her reply. “And…I was ready for a change.”

She shifted her attention back to the road. So there was another reason as well.

As she neared the junction, Annie slowed down to turn into the driveway of the farm with the red barn.

“This place looks familiar,” Will commented.

“I bet you didn’t get more than a glimpse of it through the dust cloud I spun.” She looked across at him and grinned.

Definitely not feeling defensive, he thought.

“The Vanderhoffs live here,” she went on. “They keep a lot of our hives in their orchards. The swarm’s in one of the apple trees out back, past the barn. It’s about a five-minute walk.” She reached behind the seat and pulled out the canvas. “I’ll get the box and my suit from the back, but could you bring the two supers? I always carry a couple in the truck in case of a swarm or if I need to set up a new colony. I’ll let Marge know I’m here. Oh, and there’s a hand saw. I’ll need it, too.”

Will watched her walk up to the back door of the farmhouse. He had an odd sense of familiarity, as if he’d helped her with a job like this many times. Perhaps it was the casual way she accepted his presence—her assumption that he’d be right behind her, doing his part.

His eyes narrowed when the screen door opened and what could have passed for a small bear bounded out and lunged at Annie. Will pressed down on the door handle, about to rush to her rescue, when he realized it was a dog. Annie dropped the box to hug it as
a woman appeared in the doorway. Annie turned and gestured for Will to join her.

He hesitated. He wasn’t much for social conventions since the accident. Getting out of the truck, he went around to the back for the supers. The dog raced toward him, barking, and Will froze.

“Bear!” shouted the woman.

I called that one right, Will thought, as the dog bounced back to its owner. He hefted the supers out of the truck and walked toward them.

“Marge, this is…uh….”

“Will Jennings,” he quickly filled in. She’d already forgotten his name.

The woman smiled politely, waiting for some addition to the introduction. But when none came, she said to Annie, “I’m sorry Ted isn’t here to help out.”

“Will and I can manage. I just wanted you to know why the truck was here. And thanks for letting me cut the branch.”

Will followed her across the yard, past the barn and into an orchard so large he couldn’t see the end of it. “Quite a place,” he said as he caught up to her.

“They keep a good third of our hives here. Listen,” she said, stopping him, “I hope you don’t think I forgot your name back there. I was just trying to think of what to say about you. I mean…” A red stain crept up her neck. “You know how people always tack on something about the person they’re introducing? Like, this is—”

“I know what you mean,” he said, cutting her off. “You could have said I stopped in to buy honey.”

The stain deepened. “I have a tendency to babble awkwardly,” she finally said with an embarrassed laugh that made Will regret his bluntness.

They continued walking. There was a cool breeze in the dappled rows of trees laden with pink-and-white blossoms and Will greedily sucked in the fresh perfumed air. He could have been on another planet, the place was so far removed from Newark. A muted hum drifted toward them on the breeze and grew increasingly louder the farther into the orchard they walked.

Annie dropped the box and saw onto the ground and stared up into a tree a few feet away. Will swallowed hard. Thousands of honey bees clung together in a massive, pulsing pendulum hanging from a branch. His first impulse was to vacate the area immediately.

Without taking his eyes off the swarm, he whispered, “How’re you going to get them down from there?”

“It’s tricky,” she said, “but not complicated. The swarm came from one of those hives.” She pointed to half a dozen towers of white supers about a hundred yards away. They were stacked in groups of four to seven, with bees flying in and around them. “Once the bees have left a hive with the queen, they won’t return. The hive has likely been taken over by a new queen. I have to get the swarm to go into a new hive,
which I’m setting up with the two supers you’re holding. Come on.”

Will gave the tree a wide berth.

“The swarm won’t bother you,” she said, smiling. “The bees are in what my dad calls a state of bliss. Before they leave with the queen, they fill themselves with honey. They’re really docile right now.”

“But won’t they want to protect the queen?”

“They are. She’s in the middle of the cluster. Here, I’ll take the supers.” She set them one on top of the other onto a wooden stand about five feet away. Then she picked up the canvas tarpaulin and unrolled it, spreading it on the ground directly in front of the supers.

Will was fascinated by her unhurried manner. Obviously, she’d done this many times before. He watched as she climbed into a white jumpsuit made of some kind of canvas material. The bee suit. Zipping it up, she reached down for the helmetlike hat with its mesh curtain and a pair of gloves.

“Okay,” she said, “now for the fun part. This is where you get to help.”

Uh-oh.
He didn’t want to risk a reply, in case his voice gave him away. Swallowing, he traipsed behind her as she headed back to the tree with the swarm where an aluminum ladder was propped against the trunk. Annie picked up the hand saw.

“I’m going up the ladder to cut off the branch holding the swarm. It’s not very thick, so it won’t take more than a few seconds. You’re going to stand right below
the swarm with the box. When the branch is cut through I’m going to lower it very carefully into the box.”

“That I’m holding,” he said.

“It’s going to be heavy,” she warned.

“Uh-huh. So how come I don’t have one of those outfits, too?”

The obvious concern in his voice drew a smile from her. “Don’t worry. You’re the box man. I have to hold the branch with one hand and saw with the other. Besides, as I said, the bees are in a—”

“State of bliss. Right. And what if they quickly shift into some other state? Like a state of attack?”

Her smile widened. Will had the uncomfortable feeling she was enjoying this. “They won’t, trust me. I started helping my dad collect swarms when I was about ten years old.”

“Won’t they just, uh, freak out and take off?”

Annie shook her head. “They want to stay with the queen.” She positioned the ladder closer to the branch with the swarm and began to climb, saw in hand.