Chapter Twenty Bee

Chapter Twenty Bee

Sunday morning, December 17, 2023

The black boots with the fur on the outside had seemed cute to Bee when she’d bought them, but as she stared at her outfit, she felt caught between a T-Pain song and an ad for

Justice girls’ clothing at Macy’s. The boots, paired with a fuzzy white sweater and big earmuffs, now seemed a bit... much.

I have other clothes, she thought, right? Bee turned to the haphazard pile of fabric now strewn across the floor like modern art: Portrait of a Woman Undone . Nothing was worthy of the occasion. Sure, some of them were functional; others were even cute. But when she thought of wearing

any of it, they all seemed like itchy, ugly monstrosities yearning for the trash bin.

She closed her eyes and focused. Then she looked back at the mirror and gave herself a final once-over. This was fine for

a simple winter outing. Just fine.

“You ready?” Knox asked when she finally emerged from the safety of the house.

“As I’ll ever be!” she said brightly. Together, they crunched through the freshly fallen snow toward the back of the house,

past the chicken coop and Knox’s cabin, to a small white wooden stable. The whole time, she tried not to watch him, to pay

attention to the sureness of his gait, or the curls in his hair, or even how his shoulders hunched, like he was maybe a little

underdressed for the weather—a little cold and in need of warming up. Only when they stopped at the stable did he stand up

straight, the posture of a man about to stand before a queen.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “So, this is Tilda’s home. She’s an older girl, so she needs a lot of care, and she can’t see or

hear too well these days, so she can spook easily. Just don’t make any sudden movements, and you’ll be all right.”

For a moment, Bee felt unsure. “Is she safe to ride?”

He nodded. “She never runs; even when she was younger, she’d deign to gallop. And besides”—he winked—“I’ve got you.”

Bee felt her cheeks warm. This was a terrible idea. Even so, she watched as he knocked gently on the outside of the stable.

Then he disappeared inside. A moment later, he reappeared with a brown-and-black-speckled horse with a white muzzle and a

wavy black mane.

“Whoa,” she said. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Sure is,” he said. “Now I’m gonna show you how to pet her. Then we’ll see if she lets you ride.”

Bee nodded, but on the inside, she felt her stomach flip over. Tilda might’ve been old and beautiful, but God, was she huge. Bee didn’t think horses usually bit people, but what if this one did ? Her muzzle was as big as Bee’s entire face!

“You okay there?” Knox asked, his head tilted boyishly to the side.

Bee tried to give a convincing mm-hmm, but it must’ve sounded as strangled as it felt, because Knox chuckled a little and came over to her side. “Tilda’s a big

girl, but she’s not gonna hurt you. I promise.”

“Mm-hmm,” Bee said, this time confident that the sound had at least come out clearly.

“You’ve... never ridden a horse before, have you?”

“Once,” Bee said, “or twice. As a child, at the local fair.”

“Okay. Good. Well, this is just like that. We’re gonna put a helmet on you, I’m gonna lift you up, and then I’m just gonna

hold the reins and walk with you both down that path there.” He pointed to a gravel road that disappeared into another part

of the forest. “It’ll take ten minutes, tops. You okay with that?”

Bee took a deep breath, then squared her shoulders and dug her feet in. “Yes. Totally. I can do it. What?” She looked at Knox

as he started to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“The... the thing with your shoulders and your feet. You did the same thing when you were chopping wood.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I... don’t know.”

She would’ve felt sheepish if he hadn’t followed up with “Well, it’s pretty cute, I have to say.” But when she looked at him, he looked away. Again. Then he disappeared back into the stable, muttering something about Tilda’s harness and how Clover’s helmet would probably fit her.

It was only at the sound of Clover’s name that Bee’s blush started to fade. “Leave that man alone,” Bee whispered to herself.

When he returned, she gave him a respectable distance as he prepared Tilda to ride, rattling off safety instructions Bee tried

diligently to remember.

The touch of his hand on her waist as he helped her up and the smell of his aftershave meant absolutely nothing to Bee. Nothing

at all, she told herself.

As it turned out, Tilda didn’t seem to care one way or another if Bee sat on her back. She barely paid Bee any mind at all,

seeming alert only when Knox offered her a treat or a scratch behind the ear. The three of them walked in silence, and Bee

made herself focus—on the skeletal trees whose branches hung heavy with snow, the occasional gray or brown rabbit that popped

out from one bush and dashed into another, the faint smell of pine, and the gentle swish-crunch-swish of Tilda’s hooves on the path. She settled into the rhythm of Tilda’s back beneath her and the side-to-side sway of her own

body in response. In this moment, Bee let whatever thoughts she’d had of Knox fade, because this was something precious—something rare. She was in constant motion, yes, and yet not a hint of stress had touched her. Relaxed wasn’t quite the word— calm, perhaps.

She felt calm . And that—well, that nearly made her feel giddy. Her fingers tightened on Tilda’s reins with a soft sense of surety as Knox

led them farther down the road.

Soon the snowy path gave way to gravel, and the trees began to sprout decorative lights and artificial boughs of holly. “My family’s house is just up the way,” Knox said finally, his voice jolting Bee back to reality. She sat up straight and blinked as if coming out of a daze. When they finally approached Knox’s home, Bee’s fingers itched for her phone. Clover’s house was gorgeous, but this ... well, this seemed downright historic, with its deep red panels and dark wood beams, and two black lampposts wrapped

in spiraled garland.

“Wow,” she murmured, and she saw Knox try to hide a smile.

“We’ll go around back to the stables there. Usually Tilda would already be tugging me, but we don’t usually go past the front

of the house,” he said.

“Then why’d you take me this way?”

He shrugged. “I thought you’d like it.”

Outside the stable, Knox let Tilda graze as he led Bee inside, and she balanced her sense of awe with the shockingly strong

smell of manure and hay. The horses here were lovely and huge, and they stank to high heaven. And she’d thought the streets

in San Francisco were bad.

“Everything all right?” he asked, as he began to brush one of the mares—a brown one with pale yellow hair named Doodle. “Short

for Snickerdoodle,” he’d said.

“Yup,” she said, trying not to seem too suspicious between gulps of fresh air. “I’m totally fine, it’s just... Wow, you

know. Wow.”

Knox wasn’t fooled. He just gave a low rumble of laughter, which Bee was starting to find far too enchanting, and began to lead Doodle out of her stable. “The smell of nature can be awe-inspiring, can’t it?”

She glared at him playfully as he led them both back to Tilda’s side. Suddenly, quiet old Tilda reared up and Doodle followed,

both of them greeting each other with infectious enthusiasm as they bumped heads and rubbed their necks against each other.

“They all get along just fine,” Knox said, grinning, “but these two are best friends. Ever since Jimmy brought Tilda home,

she and Doodle have just been thick as thieves together.”

“Are they the same age?”

“Nah. Doodle’s basically a toddler compared with Tilda.”

“And Tilda is Clover’s horse, right?” Bee asked, surprised to see Knox’s steady grin snap into a frown.

“Uh, no. She was her mom’s.”

Bee cleared her throat and gestured to Doodle. “So,” she said. “We did the pony ride. Are you going to show me how to really

ride a horse?”

Knox jumped over one hurdle, then another, each time with increasingly more flourish. If Bee didn’t know any better, she’d think he was actually having fun. Not that Bee knew anything about riding skill, but as she watched him, he seemed confident, completely trusting that Doodle would follow his every move and never once faltering or slowing. Occasionally, Tilda would stop her grazing in the field they were in to gallop in Doodle’s steps, but after a minute she’d return to her usual slow gait and wander merrily about the field.

Bee watched safely from just outside the gate, whooping and cheering Knox on, welcoming the show with spirited glee. He’d

told her she’d be safe in the field with him, but Bee wasn’t so sure—he’d said he’d been riding since he was a child, and

that was obvious from the show he was putting on, but that didn’t mean she was ready just yet to put her life in the man’s

hands.

Still, she loved to watch him—she could admit that in her own head. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed entirely

at ease. Sure, they’d known each other for less than a week, but she wanted him to feel as comfortable around her as she seemed

to be around him. She wanted them to be on the same footing, at least.

She didn’t want to think about why.

After a few more minutes, Knox slowed down, and Doodle trotted over to Bee’s part of the fence. “Woohoo!” she shouted as they

approached. “Encore, encore!”

He laughed. “I think you want me to die of exertion.”

“Oh,” she said, reaching up to pet Doodle as the horse pushed her muzzle through the gate. “I didn’t know you and Jimmy were

the same age.”

“Har-har.” He gestured toward the field. “You ready to do all that?”

“No,” she said lightly. “I’m pretty tired.”

“Uh-huh.” He shot her a playful look and then jogged after Tilda, who was now on the other side of the field, munching on whatever she’d found there on the ground. He reattached her bridle and led her back over to Bee and Doodle. When he asked if she’d like to guide Doodle back to the stables, she acquiesced, and together they walked with the horses on either side of them, chatting about Bee’s nonexistent riding skills.

“I’m just saying,” she said, “I bet I would’ve been an award-winning equestrian if my parents had let me learn.”

“An equestrian, huh? That’s your secret dream?”

“Nope. Not a secret. I’m saying it right here, right now: if I could go back in time, I would’ve been a competitive horse-riding

person. In the Olympics.”

“I’d bet on you.”

“Thank you,” Bee said smugly. “Wait... Do people make bets on the Olympics?”

“Hell if I know,” Knox said. “I’m pretty sure people will bet on anything.”

Suddenly, a high-pitched screech pelted them both from the side, along with a sudden flurry of white aimed squarely at Knox’s

chest. The snowballs themselves were harmless, but Tilda reared up, pulling Knox backward just as he turned in the direction

of the laughter and, soon, alarm. He let go of the reins just in time, but Bee watched as he slipped on the snow beneath them,

landing hard on his back.

He bit back a swear as two Black kids no older than ten or eleven ran up to them, apologies tumbling from their mouths. “We’re

so sorry, Knox! We didn’t mean to scare you! Are you okay? Sorry, miss! We’re sorry!” One of them, a girl with short cropped

hair, stumbled after Tilda, who had taken a few strides down the path and was now back to kicking at snow.

“Are you okay?” Bee asked, heart beating hard against her rib cage. She was hesitant to bend down or make any sudden movements, lest Doodle spook too.

“It’s okay,” Knox mumbled, sitting up slowly with gritted teeth. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He turned to the other kid, a boy

with shoulder-length dreads, who was now standing in front of them looking lost. “Can you grab Doodle from Miss Bee here,

Kendrick?”

The boy nodded numbly and took the reins from Bee, who hurried to Knox’s side.

“Let me see your leg,” she said as he tried to stand.

“I’m okay—ah!”

“You’re not,” she said sternly. She ran her fingers quickly over both his legs, and when he jerked away, she sighed and lifted

his left pant leg. His skin looked sore and bloated, and while she wasn’t a doctor, she had gotten certified as a first responder when she was in the eleventh grade.

“And how long ago was that?” he asked when she told him.

“Recently enough to know you’ve got a sprain. A bad one.” He groaned, and she patted his shoulder empathetically.

“We can take the horses back to the stables, Knox,” the girl who had grabbed Tilda said. “Can’t we, Kendrick?”

Kendrick had big eyes that looked as if they might burst into tears at any moment. Bee’s heart broke for him. She knew that

look—that feeling. She’d grown up with it every day of her life. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly. “No one’s mad, and you’re

not in trouble. Okay, honey?”

Kendrick nodded and wiped his eyes.

“Yeah, Kenny,” Knox said, still trying to mask the pain. “Everything’s just fine. Go on now with your sister. I’ll come by and get Tilda later.”

Kendrick’s sister bumped her brother’s shoulder, and together they scurried toward the stables.

“Siblings of yours?” Bee asked, as she mustered as much strength as possible to help Knox stand.

“Cousins,” he said once he finally got his footing. “Sort of. They’re, uh, they’re Clover’s cousins. Known them their whole

life.”

“Ah,” she said. She thought she recognized them from the tree lighting.

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “They’re good kids, when they’re not trying to kill me.”

She could tell immediately that he was trying not to lean on her, but that was a stupid idea, and she told him so. Begrudgingly,

his body sank into hers, and Bee pretended not to think about how good it felt, to smell his aftershave and feel the brush

of his hair against her cheek as he tried to keep his balance. For a moment, they locked eyes, and Bee swore she saw his eyes

flick to her mouth. He cleared his throat and looked away. Slowly, they began to hobble together.

“To your family’s house, I assume?”

“No way in hell,” he grunted. “They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

She stopped hobbling and looked at him. “You are not staying in that tiny shack in the middle of the forest on your own.”

“It’s not like I live miles from civilization,” he muttered. “And where else am I supposed to go?”

“To my house,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, until he gave her a look that quickly reminded her that it had once been his house.

“My place is closer than the Big House anyway,” he said, and she couldn’t deny that he was technically right.

“Fine,” she said, and they began walking again. “Hey,” she said after a moment. “You’re kind of heavy.”

He guffawed. “I apologize. I’ll lay off the meat and potatoes.”

“I’m just saying,” she said cheerfully, “it’s not easy being a walking stick. It’s really working my legs. If we keep this

up, I bet they’ll be super toned by the time I leave.”

“Your legs look great as they are.”

She looked at him, but he looked away. Again. She tried not to show her annoyance—or disappointment. It was hard to tell what

she felt with him. She tried another route of conversation. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“I’ll probably spend it with my family,” he said. “We’ve shared the holidays with Clover and them for nearly a decade, and

I think that’s the plan again now.” His laugh had an undertone of bitterness. “I tried to skip it. Truly, I did. But Aunt

Janine is a bit more persuasive than my mother.”

“Oh, so I guess we’ll be spending the holidays together then.”

Knox looked at her quizzically. “Why?”

“Janine invited me,” she said. “And Jimmy said I had no business breaking an old man’s heart if I said no.”

“I see,” he said quietly. “I guess we will then.”

“I didn’t realize your family still celebrated with Jimmy’s,” she said after an unbearable moment of silence, “or I would’ve said something to you earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Knox said. “But I’m curious about something else.”

“What’s that?”

“How much do you think a professional walking stick could get paid? I’m saving up for a new place, and I could use a side

gig.”

She should’ve let him fall right then and there. “You are truly the worst, you know that?”

“Why, Bee,” he said with a cheeky grin. “I think that’s about the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Somehow, as she took in the curve of his lips and felt the heat of his body against hers, she doubted that was true.