The Beekeeper's Daughter. Janice Carter

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 article 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 passenger 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.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ANNIE 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 СКАЧАТЬ