23. Eden

23

EDEN

"Eden? I brought scones! Are you in there?" Esther's voice floats up the stairs, pulling me from sleep. I'm not sure how long I stayed up with Marsha and my sisters. At one point Marsha suggested I eat a teaspoon of "funny honey"—blended with THC—and I passed out on the couch.

I crack open one eye, my oldest sister strolling into my house. Did I give her a spare key or did I fall asleep without locking the door? I sure hope it was the first option, because the last thing I want is to start a habit that will lead my mother to invade.

Esther drops a bag on the coffee table, puts her hands on her hips, and glances around. The candles are still hanging all over the first floor. In place of the dirty equipment and piles of beeswax shavings, there are neatly stacked rows of labeled jars. My Storm Swarm products are ready to box up and deliver.

"You've been busy," Esther says, plopping down beside me. "Who will take all the candles?"

I cover a yawn. "There's a gift shop in Oakland. Another one at the conservatory."

Esther runs a finger along a row of candle pairs dangling from their shared wick. "Can I buy a batch for the bar? These are classy."

"What? You stopped shaving the stickers off reused prayer candles?"

Esther shrugs. "We are all always doing a little better than the day before, right?"

I reach for the bag and pull out scones from the bakery down the hill. "Oh, shit, these are fresh," I sigh, sinking my teeth into the sweet, nutty delight.

Esther sips from a to-go coffee and waits for me to take a few bites before she says, "Sooo… the girls called me."

I pause with a scone midway to my mouth, my hand hovering in the air as I clench for Esther to give me a stern lecture.

Instead, she squeezes my leg. "I'm really proud of you for kicking Mom out. I know that wasn't easy."

I sink into the couch in relief, the muscles in my legs loosening along with the tension in my guts. I didn't know I needed her to praise me like that. "Okay, so I'm a mess and I messed up. What do I do next?"

Esther leans back, shoulder pressing into mine. "I hear a lot of stories from a lot of fucked up people. It wouldn't hurt any of us to get some help. The Storm sisters, I mean."

The enormity of her revelation pulses through me like someone struck a gong. My big sister, who held us all together, is placing herself beside me in this idea that something is wrong, and there's maybe a way to fix it. I swallow the last dry bit of scone, choke, and reach for Esther's coffee. Then I cough more because I forgot she drinks it black. Once I have myself together, I say, "Marsha was going to send me some resources. Mental health stuff that's affordable." I bite my lip and look around. "I'd really like to check it out. It would mean a lot if you came with me."

Esther gestures for her coffee. "I can't promise I'll get chatty."

I nod and pop my lips a few times before I say, "I was thinking maybe all of us could go. Like as a family."

Esther wrinkles her nose, considering. "Huh. Well, I definitely think it would be good for Eva. Who even knows if Eliza will talk to humans."

We finish our breakfast on the couch, and I'm about to stand up and start boxing the candles when the front door flies open. Eva bursts inside, waving her phone around. "Oh my God, Eden, turn on the TV." She halts in the living room, like she suddenly remember that I don't own a television. She growl and taps around on her phone. "Look."

She shoves her screen in my face. There's a sports field and a lot of people running around screaming in a way that's become familiar to me. "Is that?—?"

The announcer's voice comes through the microphone, tinny and frantic. "That's right, folks. There is a swarm of bees infesting the outfield scoreboard here in Pittsburgh. It's pandemonium on the field as the Black Sox and Dragons have retreated to their locker rooms. Fans are?—"

Eva drops the phone, and the sound goes off, but Esther is already on her feet. "Eden," she says. "This is your moment."

I frown. "My moment for what?"

Eva grins. "To get your name out there as the best beekeeper in the land. Go save the park!"

I groan. "First of all, the park is fine. My concern is with those tiny gals who are clearly looking for a cool, comfortable place to brood their babies."

"Okay, fine," Eva says, stomping her foot. "Get up and go save the babies."

My face contorts in confusion. "Eva. I don't know people at the ballpark. I can't just show up and tell them I'm a beekeeper to the rescue. Who do I even tell? The gate attendant?"

She's about to argue when my phone rings somewhere in the dining room. Esther steps away to find it, and I hear her grunting and growling, moving things around. The phone stops ringing and immediately starts again, and Esther must finally find it because she yells, "Hello! This is the beekeeper's helper!"

Eva and I dart into the dining room, a cacophony drifting from my phone. Esther holds it a foot away from her face as a man howls about being the groundskeeper at the Black Sox stadium, in desperate need of my services. "Some guy named Nate Donovan swears you can help us."

I gasp. Would Nate make this sort of connection for me after everything I said? I stare at Esther, who holds the phone out to me. "But I was so mean to him," I whisper. Esther snatches the phone back.

"Eden Storm will be at the stadium in fifteen minutes. Where should we have her enter, and who should we ask for?"

Twelve minutes later, Esther slams on the brakes in my van, causing Eva and all the supplies to shift around in the back. I pop the veil on my head as Eva bursts from the van with my temporary hive and frames, which she shoves at me.

Men in coveralls wave their arms frantically, spotting me in my white bee kit. I don't normally wear the suit, but I wasn't sure how angry these bees would be after all those people ran around them screaming. Plus, Eva insisted this gives me more credibility.

"Everyone trusts someone in a uniform," she said before stuffing me into my seat in the van.

Amidst the chaos, Esther grabs my smoker and pulls a lighter from her back pocket. She opens the top and ignites the twigs and pine needles before shoving the whole thing toward Nate, who has materialized out of nowhere. My heart skips a beat, like I'm in a romance movie. I want to rush toward him and tell him how very sorry I am for my outburst yesterday. But he's standing there alongside a guy I sort of recognize from his construction crew, and there are bees in peril.

A flustered groundskeeper—Eva is right, uniforms really help with identification—runs up to me and doesn't even speak. He gestures toward a waiting golf cart, and I follow him, Nate hot on my tail with the smoker.

The second the cart zooms onto the field, the remaining crowd bursts into cheers. I allow myself to soak in their applause. I love helping—this is what I love about my job, second only to interacting with the bees. When the golf cart stops, I set my things on the grass, and then the groundskeeper speeds away faster than I ever thought those things could go.

But Nate hasn't left. He's there, with a metal smoker. He grins at me and holds out a queen clip. "Need a hand?"