Page 125 of The Beekeeper

“Royal Jelly is what turns a honeybee into a queen,” Pais said staunchly, handing me back the jar though I couldn’t seem to reach to take it.

I couldn’t seem to do anything except stare at the jar like it was a trap. Or a grenade. Something that was inevitable. My little queen. That was what I’d called Harper, and that was what this jar meant. Harper was my queen—could be my queen, if I let her.

“Daddy?”

“Sorry, pumpkin.” I jolted back to reality and took the jam from her, shoving it back onto the shelf like I could put my thoughts away for later. “All right. Got the sugar. Let’s make this cake.”

I glanced at the recipe Harper had written out and tucked into one of the boxes. I hadn’t seen her do it, and when I found the card, I was annoyed at first. Annoyed because I wanted to forget her—forget those thunderstorm moments—and figure out some new memory to create with Paisley in the middle of a storm. But nothing I’d suggested had drawn her out of her room, nothing but the cake. And somehow, Harper must’ve known that which was why she’d sent the recipe without asking. So, I wouldn’t have to admit I still needed this piece of her, or worse.

I said nothing as I put all the ingredients into a bowl so Pais could start mixing. I didn’t want to start a conversation until she was stirring. Less chance of her running back to her room.

“All right, time to mix in the thunder.” I pushed the bowl in front of Pais, watching her rise up on her knees on the counter to get better leverage as she stirred.

“Pais, I was thinking…” I trailed off as a boom echoed through the room and Paisley stirred faster. “I was thinking you might want to talk about how you’re feeling about our move and leaving…the farm.”

Her arm slowed and her face scrunched even though she wouldn’t look at me.

“It helps to talk about your feelings,” I added, feeling encouraged because she wasn’t immediately fighting the idea.

“Do you want to talk about yours?”

My jaw dropped. Damn. I blinked once—twice, feeling firmly put in my place by my daughter.

No was my answer. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings because they fucking hurt and made me feel like I’d made another unforgivable, irredeemable mistake. But I didn’t want to be an exception, I wanted to be an example for Paisley, even when it was hard.

“I feel…a little lost,” I started, trying to navigate the truth with what was appropriate to tell an almost-seven-year-old about an adult relationship. “I feel like a lot changed that I wanted to be good change and now, I’m worried I made a mistake.”

A couple seconds passed in silence, and I started to think what I’d said wasn’t enough, but then Paisley’s small voice filtered into the room.

“I’m sad,” she said, not even mixing the batter anymore, not that I was going to remind her. “I miss the bees. I miss Harper.”

“I know, pumpkin,” I said, freeing the exhale chained inside my chest…and the uncomfortable truth with it. “I miss her, too.”

At that, her eyes lifted to mine. She looked sad and confused, and I couldn’t blame her. We both missed Harper and yet we were here and she wasn’t. How did I make that make sense to a child?

“Pais…” I trailed off when she started mixing vigorously again, clearly working out her frustration with me.

“Why did we have to move?”

I speared my hand through my hair, not for nothing, wondering the same fucking thing.

“Because we weren’t planning to stay there forever. It was temporary. Just like the apartment above the flower shop.”

“It didn’t feel temporary,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“I know change is scary, pumpkin, and we’ve been doing a lot of it,” I confessed, feeling a little more of my heart break. “But this will be permanent. This will be our home.”

“Why couldn’t Harper’s be our home?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes. “She’s our hive.”

My queen.

I blew out a heavy breath. “Because Daddy didn’t plan on Harper. I didn’t plan on us being there for long or for us fitting together the way we did. And I don’t think Harper is prepared for what our staying there would’ve caused. Because of what Daddy does and the camera monsters.”

Her head tipped. “Is Harper scared of those things?”

My mouth opened and shut. “No, she’s probably not.”

“So why are you?”