The Music of Bees by Eileen Garvin (most read book in the world TXT) 📕

help Noah with what Jake needed anyway. He didn’t pause to let himself feel the awkwardness of asking for help. He led them into the house and showed them the furniture he needed them to move. Noah kept up a steady stream of jokes about Jake’s new farm boy identity, which helped.

“How did you meet this lady?” Celia asked as she and Noah repositioned the coffee table. “Is she a friend of your mom’s?”

Noah rolled his eyes at Jake. Girls always asked questions.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Jake said. And left it at that.

The kitchen had less furniture but was a bigger deal, and here Celia was the hero. As the oldest girl in a big family, she knew all about cooking. She sorted the pots and pans and pantry items, putting what he would use every day close at hand. She also explained the difference between cooking and baking stuff. They considered the microwave, mounted too high above the stove to reach, and she scoffed.

“You don’t need that thing. They stink and make a big mess anyway.”

Jake took them outside to see the barn, the chicken coop, and the apiary. He avoided their eyes and briskly pointed out the rough sections in the path. He didn’t mention his fall. Noah found shovels and rakes in the barn, and Celia helped him work the dirt to level the path. Jake did a lap to test it and confirmed it was easier to manage. Noah said he would come back and give it another going over, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it.

Jake offered to show them the hives, and though they were intrigued, they wouldn’t venture inside the fence of the apiary. As Jake told them some of what he had learned, the honeybees seemed to sing to him. The air was full of golden bodies, some zipping off to forage and others returning. In front of a close hive—one of the new nucs from Sunnyvale—several dozen bees zinged wildly back and forth in short bursts. This was an orientation flight, Alice had told him.

“The big kids are teaching the newbies how to find their way home. Isn’t that cool?” Jake said.

Noah stood behind Celia, who stood behind Jake. Very cool, they agreed.

“When you get the honey, I’ll give you my abuela’s recipe for torta de miel. It’s awesome. You’ll love it,” Celia said.

Jake turned and smiled up at her. “Cece, you’re a genius. I need your help with one other thing.”

Home ec class had been pass/fail and based on attendance, so Jake and Noah had goofed off in the back of Miss Trainor’s class and learned nothing. Celia, on the other hand, already knew how to cook for a houseful of people. She sent Noah to the store with a list, to which Jake had added hair product. While they waited for Noah, she talked Jake through some basics—scrambled eggs, pancakes, grilled cheese sandwiches, and burritos. When Noah returned, she helped Jake make his first dinner—chicken enchiladas with chile verde sauce.

“And a salad. You need to eat your vegetables. No, seriously, you guys!” she protested as they mocked her, calling her the Veggie Nazi.

It was after 5:30 p.m., and Alice still hadn’t come home. Jake was nervous, wiping down the counters and checking his phone.

“Why don’t you guys stick around?” he said.

Noah set the table for four. Jake took the enchiladas out of the oven and covered them to keep them warm. He started the rice like Celia told him to. Noah pulled out his phone to show Jake a video of their friend Mikey landing an Impossible at the skate park. Celia had already seen it several times and rolled her eyes as the boys leaned over the screen. She paged through the newspaper instead. Jake felt tired and happy. He’d missed Noah. Celia was a good one too. Not whiny or clingy. He thought about the last time they’d all gone to Lost Lake. Noah and Celia hadn’t been officially dating then. Celia had ridden in the back seat with Cheney draped across her lap. Cheney. The thought of his dog made his heart fold in half. Still, it was good to be with his friends.

Celia noticed the smoke first.

“The rice! The rice!” She dashed across the kitchen and grabbed the smoking pot by the handle with a dish towel. The smoke alarm screamed in short bleats.

“Open the windows!” Jake yelled.

Noah threw open the windows of the kitchen, and Celia jumped on a chair and flapped the dish towel in front of the smoke detector.

“This is not a drill!” she yelled, laughing. “Proceed to the nearest exit and your teachers will direct you!”

“Holy shit! Do your cooking classes always end in a crisis, girl?” Jake shouted.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire!” Noah sang.

The kitchen was filled with smoke and laughter and yelling.

“Noah, take the damn thing outside!” Jake hollered. Noah grabbed the pan and threw open the door, nearly colliding with Alice.

“What in the hell is going on in here?” she yelled.

11 Scouting

That bees send out scouts to seek a suitable abode, admits of no serious question. Swarms have been traced directly to their new home, in an air-line flight, either from their hive, or from the place where they clustered after alighting.

—L. L. LANGSTROTH

The dancing catfish clock over the dinette wriggled and slapped its freckled head and tail to announce that it was 7:00 a.m. Harry had awakened hours earlier to the predawn snarling of raccoons in the garbage pile. They looked like small bears scuttling around in the weak moonlight and sounded like crazed human babies. When he threw open the window and yelled at them, they seemed more irritated than frightened but finally slunk off into the woods.

His own hunger had been sated by the discovery of a cache of food under the bench where his uncle usually