24. Nate

24

NATE

Even though Eden is dressed head to toe in white canvas and a veil, she's hot as hell doing her thing with the bees in the outfield. I watch from a distance as she strides over to them, talking to them, telling them she's here to help. I swear, they hear her. It's like the whole swarm parts when she extends her hand to search for the queen.

The stadium erupts in oohs and ahhs, and a drone camera flies right over her head, televising her work. It's not long before the announcer says something about the mysterious beekeeper to the rescue. I wish I could get someone over here to give them Eden's information to share, but it seems more important to stay close by and help her if she needs me.

A few minutes pass, and Eden turns, a triumphant grin beaming through her veil as she holds up the clip.

"You got the queen?" I set the bee box on the ground and hope blooms in my chest. It's got to mean something that she brought the box I made her, for a big, public bee rescue.

Eden clips the queen to one of the frames, and just like she always promises, most of the bees follow within a few minutes. Eden takes the smoker and coaxes the rest along. She sets up some of the frames and rubber bands in the box and when the scene is clear, she plucks off a single piece of honeycomb the swarm put together between innings.

When Eden puts the lid on the box, the stadium erupts in cheers. The crowd has mostly filed back to their seats, curious to watch Eden's work. I'm worried the park is going to set off the outfield home-run fireworks before we clear the area, but thankfully, they don't.

The grounds crew is still AWOL, so Eden struggles with the box while I walk at her side, carrying her gear. I guess they're going to just watch us make our way across the entire outfield, infield, and through the tunnel where we came in.

Eden blushes at all the applause, pink cheeks just visible through her bee veil. Once it's clear we have the situation in hand, a camera operator scurries toward us, a reporter and microphone holder in hot pursuit.

"That was amazing," the reporter exclaims, tugging at the neck of his polo shirt. Eden grins.

The reporter gestures toward the box of bees. A few fly around the handles that serve as entry and exit doors for the little critters. The reporter tries to get close enough to mic Eden but is obviously frightened of all the buzzing. "What are you going to do with them?"

Eden shifts the weight of the box. "Well, I'll take them home and quarantine the hive until I'm sure they're all healthy. Then I'll incorporate them into the fold. I can build a new permanent hive for them alongside my others."

The reporter takes a tentative step closer to Eden. "And will this new hive be black and gold for the Sox?" He flashes his teeth in a fake-television smile, but Eden shakes her head. "Black would be way too hot for these guys. But maybe I can paint a little logo on the lid." She laughs uncomfortably. I can see sweat forming on Eden's forehead. She's still wearing the veil and struggling under the weight of the box.

Once it's clear nobody is going to help carry it, I set down the smoker and gesture for the box. Eden's eyes fly wide. The reporter is bouncing with excitement and turns to face me. "And who is this?"

I grab the box from Eden, who immediately pulls off her veil and fans herself with it. "Since you didn't ask, this is Eden Storm, of Storm Swarm. You should look for her honey and beeswax products at restaurants and gift shops all around the city."

The reporter turns to the cameras. "Did you hear that, folks? Eden Storm is going to take these bees out of this ballpark and make magic. Wouldn't we all like a little Black Sox special soap to wash up after we sweated over this situation?"

The crowd titters with laughter. I grunt and head toward the tunnel, and Eden walks behind me, her white suit swishing with every step.

Once we're in the service entrance, I set down the box and turn to face Eden.

"Hey," I say.

A full stadium has never been so silent. There is nothing but this tunnel and the two of us. Well, and one million of her bee friends, but they're rooting for us. I know it.

She unzips her suit and lets it fall open like a banana peel, slithering off her shoulders. She steps out of the pants. "Hey," she whispers. And then she starts to cry.

I wrap her in my arms, inhaling the smoky scent of her work over her signature honeysuckle and spice. "Eden, sweetheart, I'm here, okay? I know you told me to forget you, but that's never going to happen."

"Ughhh," she moans into my shirt. "I don't deserve you being nice to me like this."

I shake my head. "Don't say that. You are everything good and loving and caring, and people have shit all over you. I get that. I let you down the other day. I've been letting a lot of people down. But I'm working hard to change that. And I wanted you to know I'm always thinking of you."

Eden lets out a whimper and hugs me tight. I pat her hair, wishing we could go somewhere more private to continue this conversation. When I look up, the groundskeeping staff are all standing around us in a circle. Someone in a suit is stumbling toward Eden, red-faced.

"Ms. Storm?" the suit guy asks. "Can I have a word?"

I drape an arm around her shoulder as she turns in my arms to face him. "Sure," she says, eyes flicking to the box of bees on the ground in the shade. The box is humming with activity, and I know from experience there is a magical transformation happening inside. I think about how those little critters burrowed inside a dirty, crumbling wall, and Eden managed to coax them out alongside gallons of sweetness people will be enjoying for a long time.

It's hopeful, is what it is.

The guy in the suit clears his throat. "I'm Ted Bascoe, owner of the Pittsburgh Black Sox. I'd like to thank you personally for your intervention today so that we can continue the game." He pauses at the crack of a bat hitting a ball, and a crowd roars in delight. "I'm not sure what fee was discussed, but I'd like to offer you a gratuity. Do you have a card so I can contact your admin to set up a meeting to discuss the Black Sox Stadium Soap you mentioned to the reporter?"

Eden blinks a few times. I know damn well nobody discussed a fee with her because I was there when Joe from the grounds crew hollered for her to get here immediately. I'm just glad she was near her phone.

"Hey," I say, while Eden coughs and wriggles. "Can she get a bottle of water?"

An hour later, I climb inside the passenger seat of Eden's van, reminding myself I don't need to be afraid of the bees in the back. She handed me her veil to put on if I got super uncomfortable, but I just spin it in my hands as she puts the van in gear and navigates onto Route 28 toward her house.

"So," she says, merging onto the highway, "I'm really sorry I shut you out. I totally lost my shit, like everything from the past month piled up until I exploded."

I flip the veil, staring at the fabric. "I'm really sorry you had to deal with so much stress."

She turns briefly before snapping her eyes to the road. "You're under a ton of stress, too, though, and you're not screaming or yelling or accusing anyone of anything."

"No," I agree. "I'm more prone to self-destruct and make terrible choices."

She grunts.

"I used to think the only person I was hurting was me when I acted that way. Like who the hell cared if I was drunk and dumb?"

She bites her lip. "What changed?"

"You left me a furious voicemail, and I realized I don't live in a vacuum." I turn to face the buzzing box in the back. "I'm part of a hive, even if I don't realize it."

"That seems right." Eden takes a deep breath. "I shouldn't treat you that way. I want you to know I have a plan to work on it. On myself. And my feelings and stuff."

I smile and settle more comfortably into the chair. "That's good to hear." Now it's my turn to take a deep breath. "I'm selling the business. We lost the contract on the Morningside house. I'm not too good at the management side of construction."

"Oh, Nate, that's not true! We can work together and?—"

I hold up a hand. "I don't like doing it. I talked it through with my grief group, and Chris and I had a really long talk today before the game went up in smoke."

She laughs. "Oh… did we grab my smoker?"

"I dumped out the insides, too, like you had shown me."

She moans in relief. I try not to let the sound turn me on. "You are really good at helping me."

"Thank you. I'll have a little more time for that… if you want me around." I tap my fingers on the veil. "I'm about to be unemployed."

Eden taps the steering wheel a few times. "Maybe I could hire you to build me some things. For my business."

I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. "That sounds amazing."