Chapter Seven Bee

Chapter Seven Bee

Tuesday afternoon, December 12, 2023

The snow settled and shifted in the wind as Bee rocked back and forth in her chair. She was on the balcony of her host’s bedroom,

wrapped tightly in a heavy blanket, on top of her fleece pajamas. She felt like a princess in a snow globe or an old lady

who had just retired. Either way, she was feeling calm and centered, nursing a steaming cup of hot cocoa as the sound of the

chickens squawking wandered to her through the snowfall. After the carolers left the night before, she’d gone upstairs and

drawn herself a bath, before going straight to sleep.

She’d slept late. Her phone was still off. And now here she was, still doing not much of anything. It felt amazing. Lifesaving.

Necessary.

Weird.

Okay, maybe a little scary.

She took a sip of her hot chocolate, focusing on the taste of melted marshmallow on her tongue. Then she set her cup down on the small table beside her and stretched her arms luxuriously above her head. She closed her eyes and tried to rock herself gently into an early afternoon nap.

Back and forth, back and forth...

It should’ve felt soothing, but something was keeping her awake.

A little knot tied into her stomach.

Back and it would grow taut...

Forth and it would tighten...

She took a deep breath. No, she thought. Absolutely not. But even as she tried to force herself to relax, her fingers began to twitch, and her jaw began to work itself as if possessed

by an angry spirit.

After a tense battle of wills against herself, she finally set both feet on the ground and thrust herself to the edge of the

seat in a huff.

She was restless.

Goddamn it.

Irritated, she thrust the blanket away and hurried back into the bedroom, closing the sliding door behind her. She wasn’t

really sure what to do, even as she riffled through her baggage and picked out a pair of skinny jeans, a simple black tank

top, a cute pair of pink earmuffs, and a wool coat she’d gotten on sale at Anthropologie.

This is what Ayana couldn’t understand—that failing to work was only half of her problem. The other part was not working. Her brain was instead in some sort of limbo of half action, unable to rest but also incapable of productivity. Like if she could only just ... then she might ...

The sentence was never finished, never filled in.

So, there she was, actively inert.

Fully dressed, she sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers tapping out a rhythm on her knee. She could try to read, but the

plane ride had convinced her that was still a lost cause. She could try to work—after all, the setting was serene, the quiet peaceful. Maybe this was all she needed: stillness away from the

bustle of the city.

She pulled her laptop out of her backpack and opened it. Then she closed it immediately. Groaning, she flopped back down on

the bed and looked at the ceiling, wondering if she’d be able to pick out the different animal sounds if she breathed quietly

enough.

Was that a moo? she wondered. Are there cows here?

Clover hadn’t mentioned any, but Clover hadn’t exactly been chatty in her emails. Aside from some basics about the house,

and a general note that animals on the farm existed, much of what Salem had to offer was left to Bee’s imagination.

“Although she had mentioned something about a tree lighting...” Bee muttered. And the farm manager. Knox. With his bright

blue eyes and boyishly curly brown hair, and that smile... What was he doing right now anyway?

Bee sat up. He had told her that if she needed anything, she could let him know...

Sure, she thought. That works. She could ask him about the tree lighting and what else people did for the holidays. That was totally reasonable.

She grabbed her phone and set off down the stairs and out the door, toward the cabin Knox had pointed out to her the other

morning. As she did, she was surprised to see Jimmy out in the chickens’ pen, bent over and humming what sounded like “Midnight

Train to Georgia.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jimmy,” she called to him from behind the wire fencing.

He jumped up, pulling his newsboy hat off and pressing it to his chest. “Good God, I thought you was my daughter.” He laughed

and righted the hat back on his head. “She’d kill me if she saw me out here doin’ any kind of work. Good afternoon to you,

Miss Bee.”

“You can just call me Bee.”

“And you can just call me Jimmy.” He winked, and Bee smiled.

“Jimmy it is, then. What are you doing?”

“Oh, just giving some extra love to some of our more passive chickens. Most of the girls get along just fine, but a few like

to puff up their feathers and enforce the pecking order. Like Mabel.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Stay clear of her.”

Bee chuckled a little but stopped when she noticed his arm start to shake. He was holding on to a green pail of what Bee assumed

was chicken feed, and the feed began to spill as Jimmy started coughing. She snatched the pail from him and placed a steady

hand on his back, but he waved her away and stood up straight.

“Mabel ain’t dead, and yet her spirit can haunt ya. I bet the old hen is a witch in retirement.” His laugh turned into another cough, but he shook it off and reached for the pail, thanking her as he headed back inside. “Anyway, enough excitement for the day. I hope you enjoy your stay, Bee—and don’t worry about me! Just an old man fightin’ off age.”

Bee watched him go with a small smile. He seemed nice enough, and who was she to tell him to take it easy? Still, she could

understand why her swap-mate wouldn’t want him outside working in the cold. She wouldn’t tell on him, of course, but she thought

she might want to keep an eye on him. God forbid an old Black man die on her watch.

She kept walking past the chicken coop and rounded the corner to Knox’s cabin. Up close, it seemed cozy—real logs, from what

she could tell, and a little porch with a dusty black welcome mat. She hesitated for a second, feeling odd about disturbing

someone without prior warning. In fact, it had probably been nearly a decade since she had actually walked up to someone’s

door to see if they were home. These days, she shot off a DM and waited for a reply. Now she knocked gently and then took

a step back, trying not to shiver in the cold. After another moment, she knocked again, and when she still heard no reply,

she knocked harder and pressed her ear against the door.

Still nothing.

She blew out her lips and took a look around. She could go back to the house and... sleep? Watch TV? Maybe Jimmy would

want to play a board game.

Bee groaned, feeling increasingly like she wanted to pout and stomp her feet. Instead, she pulled her coat tighter, adjusted her earmuffs, and turned around. She was not going to give up! She had a mission, and she would succeed at it. She squared her shoulders and trudged away from the cabin and in the opposite direction of the Vacate home toward... er... what looked like woods. Deep, scary woods that led to God knew where.

That was fine, though.

Pretty, even.

Snow-scattered branches and cute little animals burrowing into their homes beside tiny campfires underground, or whatever

woodland creatures did to keep warm. Either way, it was fine. She would be fine.

She continued walking until she heard a dull thud-thud-thud just a few meters ahead of her. She walked toward the sound and found what she was looking for: Knox, hair askew and breathing

hard, with an axe high above his head.

Well, it wasn’t exactly what she was looking for.

“Hey!” she said, feeling absurdly giddy. Her persistence had paid off—she hadn’t felt like that in a while. “I found you!”

Knox paused with his axe above his head, apparently startled by the tiny Black girl who had just emerged from the trees. He

took a step back and let the axe fall to the side, wiping his hair from his face. He was wearing a thick half-sleeve parka

over a black-and-green-checkered flannel with his sleeves rolled up, and his jeans looked worn and muddied. He’d obviously

been hard at work, and she felt a little bad for interrupting him. He actually looked kind of... upset.

“Are you okay?” she asked before she realized it was none of her business.

“Huh? Oh.” He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

“About chopping wood?”

He looked at the woodpile like he’d never seen it before in his life. Then he chuckled. “It’s just what I do when I’m stressed.”

“So, you are stressed,” Bee pressed. She clasped her hands behind her back as she took a few steps forward.

This time he full-out laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am. Not much to do here in the wintertime except wait for the ground to thaw.

But I’ve always figured, if I’m gonna be stressed, I might as well make myself useful, given that it’s the dead of winter.

Speaking of, I believe I owe you and Jimmy a delivery of firewood.”

Bee smiled. If I’m gonna be stressed, I might as well make myself useful. A man after her own heart.

“Were you out on a walk?” he asked.

“I was looking for you,” Bee said, and then resisted the urge to cover her mouth. “I mean, that sounds... I just meant

that I saw you weren’t at your cabin, so I thought I’d do a little exploring. It was nice—the snow in the woods and all that.”

“Ah.” He stood there with one hand still holding the handle of the axe. A few seconds of silence passed until he spoke again.

“So... what did you need?”

Bee blinked. “What? Oh! Ah...” Her query about local holiday happenings seemed a little trivial now, given the fact she’d trudged through snow and forest to find the man, who was trying to have his personal time to decompress, but she really didn’t have any other reason to be bothering him. “Are there any cows around here?”

He blinked.

She waited.

“Um, yeah,” he said. He scratched his chin, and Bee tried not to note how handsome he was with just a shadow of stubble. “Not

here. Too expensive to keep. But there are some just down the road.”

“Oh, okay.” She paused. “I thought I heard some. Earlier. In my, er, Clover’s room.”

He nodded. Then: “A lot of people have animals around here. Some of them are useful for the holidays. The Blankenships nearby

have a petting zoo, and there’s the annual tree lighting at Lester’s Christmas Forest.” He thought some more. “There’s horseback

riding.”

“Horseback riding?” Now, there was something new and exciting. Bee hadn’t ridden a horse in years, if perching on a saddle while a man led the horse around

in a circle for three minutes at the local fair counted as “riding.” “I would love that! Are there stables nearby, or would

I have to drive there?”

“There’s one nearby,” he said. “And we have a horse at the farm, though you may have to ask Clover about that.” He looked

at the wood on the ground. She was clearly distracting him from his task.

“Can I help?”

He looked back up at her. “With the horse?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “With the wood. Can I help you with it?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Of course not. You’re a guest. I’ll, uh, finish up here and then bring some of the wood up to the Big House.”

Bee held up her hands, feeling a giddy burst of determination. “I’m a quick learner, I swear. Er... not that I’m trying

to get in your way or anything.”

Knox gave her a once-over, clearly assessing her fitness for manual labor. She wondered in that moment if her fluffy pink

earmuffs were maybe just a little bit of overkill with this outfit. “It’s... not exactly easy.”

“Even better!” Bee rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck a couple times to prove her point. Then she bounded over and

stood in front of the pile of wood he’d been chopping. “Where do we start?”

His lips quirked to the side. “You ever hold an axe?”

“Never in my whole life.”

“Great. Let’s start there.”

He instructed her to come to his side of the woodpile and stand a few feet away. Then he placed a heavy piece of wood on his

chopping block, picked up the axe, hefted it over his shoulder, and brought it down with a loud crack. He did this a few times, making sure she was watching his movement. Then he handed her the axe and let her take hold, waiting

until she was comfortable with its weight before he let go completely.

“Okay, you ready?”

“Yup!”

“Good. Now lift it just like I showed you and—wait, you’re holding it too high on the—no, now it’s too low. Here, wait a second.” He walked closer, a little to her left, and grabbed on to the handle of the axe. “Bring your hands up to here. Good. Now lift, like this.” He lifted the axe so that it was between them. “You good? It feel all right?”

Bee followed his instructions closely, her mind thoroughly on the task at hand, but as he moved behind her, his arm brushing

against hers, she felt her heart beat just a little bit faster. It’s just been a while, she told herself. But damn he smells good.

“Bee?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I said, does it feel all right?”

“What?”

“The axe?”

“Yeah! Absolutely. A little heavy, but nothing I can’t handle.” That wasn’t entirely true. The axe was heavy as hell, and

Bee couldn’t remember the last time she lifted anything heavier than her luggage, but she wasn’t about to tell Knox that.

“Okay, good. So, your hands should meet each other at the bottom of the swing, and your top hand goes back up as you’re lifting

it again.”

She did as she was told, praying the axe came down on the wood and not somewhere infinitely less pleasant. She closed her

eyes as the axe stuck in the wood, not splitting it exactly, but at least she hadn’t lost a foot.

“A little harder next time, a little more momentum, but you got the gist!”

Impressed with herself, Bee swung harder and faster the second time, missing the first cut but managing to break off a few splinters.

Knox was trying hard not to laugh.

“Hey!” Bee huffed, already starting to feel warm and sweaty. “I’m not doing too badly.”

“You’re honestly not,” he agreed. “I mean, the point is to actually split the wood in two, but if you hit it another ten times,

that’ll do the trick.”

Bee glared at him playfully. “I said I’d help with the wood, not that I’d do your job for you. I am, after all, a guest.”

“Oh, I see. And this is entertaining you?”

“Supremely.”

Knox laughed. “Great. Then, uh, I’ll just go over here and wait, if that’s all right with you.”

“Thank you.”

Bee steadied herself over the wood, lifted the axe again, and this time managed to—oh, wow, she missed completely. Knox began

to laugh so hard he had to cover his mouth, but that was okay with her. At least he was starting to warm up.

He let her pretend to chop wood for another twenty minutes before she was finally worn out, and then she relinquished the

axe and was only the slightest bit miffed when he chopped her piece of wood with barely a thought.

“I started it for you,” she called from her spot against a nearby tree.

“Oh, absolutely. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s right.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t seem to mind that she stuck around, watching as he chopped what seemed like an endless supply of wood for the next hour and occasionally offering to show him how a real pro should get it done.

Finally, he decided he had enough wood for a delivery, and together they walked back through the forest toward the Big House.

“So, how long have you been working here?” she asked, carrying exactly two logs while he carried the rest.

“About twelve years,” he said.

Bee stopped, totally unable to cover her shock. “How old are you?”

He quirked an eyebrow in her direction but kept walking. “Twenty-seven. You?”

“A lady never tells,” she answered, sticking her nose up in the air. Then she hurried to catch up to him. “Twenty-nine,” she

said. She liked the way he smiled at her, even if it was clear he was trying to hide it. Like he thought she was cute.

Bee hid her own smile, though she couldn’t deny the butterflies in her chest. “I imagine you haven’t always been the farm

manager, though. Unless you were a child prodigy.”

“No,” he said. That was it. Just no. Bee quickly got the hint that he wasn’t interested in talking about his life on the farm.

That was okay. She switched gears.

“So, tell me about this tree lighting ceremony. What does one wear? Do I bring pie? Do we gather around and sing like the

Whos from Whoville?”

He started laughing again, and Bee found she was starting to really like the sound. “Yes,” he said. “Exactly like the Whos from Whoville. But we have to be quieter this year, since last year some guy dressed head to toe in green came and stole all our stuff.”

Bee tried to bite her smile into the side of her cheek, but Knox’s eyes sparkled at her again, a knowing smirk playing on

his lips. This was too easy, talking to him like this. Like they’d known each other for years. She wondered if he was like

this with all the girls—charming and funny and warm. Or was she sparking something in him too? After her experience with Roger,

she felt inclined to be cautious, but there was something about Knox that made her feel bold.

They continued to banter and chat lightly about the town as they finally approached the Big House. By then, she was sweaty

and covered in dirt and wood, and she felt like she could sleep for days. Her muscles ached, and God knew how she smelled, but the whole chopping wood thing had done the trick. She had done enough for the day, and she was ready to go back to her

room and pass out.

“You hungry?” Knox was hovering by the entryway as she started to drag herself up the stairs. As if in response, her stomach

made a desperate cry for help, and in that moment she remembered that she actually hadn’t eaten yet today. She looked back

at Knox sheepishly.

“Maybe. Can you recommend a place to order from around here?”

He looked at her like he was weighing a decision. Then: “I could whip something up. If you want.” He added the last part like

a boy asking a girl to be his date to the prom—casual but full of nerves.

Bee wet her lips in thought and pretended not to notice when his eyes dropped to her mouth. “That could be nice.”

“Y’all okay?”

Knox jumped like someone had shoved hot coals under his feet. “Hi, Jimmy,” he said.

Jimmy eased himself between the doorframe and Knox, so they were both standing there in front of her. “Didn’t mean to startle

you two. Just wanted to check in before I settled in downstairs.”

Bee wasn’t sure why she felt like she’d just been caught sneaking a boy into her room, but she was blushing nonetheless. “I’m

all good, Jimmy, thank you.”

“I was just about to give Bee some recommendations for takeout,” Knox said. He didn’t look at her.

“Takeout? Oh-ho, let me tell you something, Miss Bee, I don’t think anyone in all of Salem would disagree that I make just

about the best corn bread and mashed potatoes on the East Coast. I’d be happy to put something together for you.”

Bee tried to catch Knox’s eyes, but it was clear that his offer had expired. “I’ll see you both later,” he said. Then he left,

just like that.

“I’m okay, Jimmy,” she said. “Thank you. I’ll just look something up, if that’s okay.”

“Okay,” he said, seeming a bit confused. Maybe he too had noticed the sudden change in mood. “Well, as I’ve said, I’m just

below if you need anything. You have a good afternoon, Bee.”

“You too, Jimmy,” she said. She waited until she was sure the door was shut, then she hurried up the stairs. She didn’t know why she felt so upset—so a random guy she’d just met had offered to cook for her, then pretended like he hadn’t. That was... okay, no, that was weird. And Bee didn’t have time for weird. That was not what she had come here for. She walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get hot. Then she

peeled off her sweaty snow clothes and forced herself to enjoy the sting of a hot shower. It had been a good day thus far,

she told herself. The house was beautiful, the snow was enchanting, and the company was...

Well, Jimmy was nice.

She didn’t need to think about Knox, and his axe, and his—

Okay, let’s not get carried away, Bee reprimanded herself. But as she stood in the shower, letting the steam and heat roll over her, she did begin to wonder

if that’s not exactly what she had come here for.

To be completely and totally carried away.