The Beekeeper's Daughter (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Carter, Janice

  She sat alone at the kitchen table and wondered if she ought to try to explain what she’d meant when she’d referred to him as an employee. Or would that merely make the whole thing bigger than it was? Annie pushed away her half-eaten sandwich. She hadn’t imagined days ago that asking Will Jennings to work for her would lead to such complications.

  The telephone rang as she was cleaning up and she rushed to it, thinking it was Shirley. The male voice on the other end was friendly but crisp. He introduced himself as a vice president of Sunrise Foods and could he have a minute of her time?

  Annie hesitated, feeling her father’s presence at her shoulder telling her to hang up. But recalling her earlier conversation with Shirley, as well as the heart specialist’s warning to her father to slow down, she said yes.

  It took fifteen minutes, actually, and at the end Annie agreed to show him the property and the business. No pressure to sell, he’d insisted. Just wanted to look around. Impulsively, she set a date in three days’ time. When she hung up, she rested her head in the palm of her hand for a long moment. She’d just complicated her life even more.

  She returned to the barn to finish pouring the honey into the settling tank and was stacking the last of the frames into the extractor when Will returned. He didn’t offer an explanation for his trip to town, but simply joined her at the extractor. After almost half an hour, when Annie was beginning to think the silent treatment had surely run its course, he spoke up. “I talked to Scott Andrews today about his job offer.”

  She looked up sharply.

  “I’m supposed to meet him at the volunteer fire hall around four if I’m going to take the job.”

  Annie clenched her teeth. Get on with it.

  “The thing is,” he continued, “I’m interested in it but I’ll need something else to do here in the valley to…you know…make enough money to stay on. So I thought I’d better pass it by you first, to make sure you still want me as your…uh…employee.”

  Before her blood pressure hit the top of the chart, she noticed his grin. He was teasing her. “Look,” she said, “about yesterday…”

  He raised a hand. “No, no. My apology. I made a big deal out of nothing.”

  “You’re not just an employee. I mean, it may sound crazy but even though we’ve known each other hardly a week—”

  “A week today,” he said.

  “Oh. I was going to say that I’ve come to think of you more as a…well, as a friend. So if we can continue to be friends while you’re working here, I…uh…I think that would be good.”

  In spite of her stammering, she saw that he got the message. This time his eyes didn’t shutter down so much as squint, as if he were staring at a bright light. He shrugged. “Sounds like a plan,” he said and went on with his work.

  When they finished extracting all the frames, Annie was exhausted. She wanted to shower, phone her father and most of all, avoid thinking of how their day might be ending had yesterday’s swim not been interrupted.

  Would we go back to the pond? Maybe have dinner or a movie in town? She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a date. Unless she counted going to a local sports bar with Mike Waters the first month back home, last year. She’d found out very quickly that night that high school crushes usually fizzled out for a very good reason, and had declined any more dates. Mike, she’d heard, had since become engaged. After that, she’d weathered a long dry spell, as her father might say. Which likely accounted for her heated response at the pond.

  “Guess I should leave soon,” Will said, as he finished pouring the last bucket of honey into the settling tank. “I need to clean up before I meet Captain Andrews.”

  Annie had been mopping up stray drops of honey off the floor. “So then you’re going to take the volunteer job?”

  “Guess so. If I can keep on here until your dad’s made a full recovery.”

  “For sure.”

  There was a slight hesitation, as if he wanted to add something but changed his mind. He held up an index finger as a farewell gesture and left the barn. Annie blew out a mouthful of sour air. That was that. He was coming back after all. And although she wasn’t certain if she ought to be relieved or not, her step was light as she went into the house to shower.

  WILL MET WITH Captain Andrews at the fire hall about ten miles from Essex. After signing some papers and having a tour of the hall, Andrews suggested dinner in town, surprising Will.

  “Guess this means you’ve crossed the line from tourist to part-timer, Jennings,” Andrews said over beer and chicken wings at the local brew pub. “I managed to find some money through a bit of creative bookkeeping and the county officials have agreed.”

  Will wiped his mouth with his napkin and said, “I appreciate that. I just hope you don’t regret the offer.”

  Andrews looked across the table at Will. “I hope I don’t either.” After a slight pause, he added, “I’d like to keep the money part between us. Don’t want to stir things up with the other men.”

  Will knew exactly what he meant. “Is it difficult to get volunteers in the valley?”

  Andrews shook his head. “They’re easy to recruit but hard to keep. They can’t really help it,” he explained. “Most of them have full-time jobs, not to mention the usual family responsibilities and all that. Getting called out in the dead of night or during some family celebration is a drag, especially when you’re not making any money.”

  Will thought at once of Sam’s defensive bluster about not being available the other night, but said nothing.

  “I’ve been trying to get the county to approve hiring at least one part-timer for the hall, but until this spate of barn fires, there’d been some reluctance. Frankly, I was surprised they went for my proposal to hire you. I told them it might be for the duration of the summer. Hope that’s okay with you. There’s no commitment on your part and the contract is loosely worded as to time frame, so not to worry if you decide to up and leave. Though please tell me you’re not going to.”

  Will smiled and assured him he could at least stay for the summer. At the back of his mind though, he was wondering about Annie’s reaction. After yesterday, how happy would she really be about his staying on?

  It was late by the time Will returned to Rest Haven. He slowed down at the junction leading to the campground and as he made the turn, noticed an orange-red glow in the sky. Will stepped on the gas. At the second road that would take him directly to Rest Haven, he saw that the flickering light was framed by wafts of smoke. He kept his eyes to the right and the column of smoke towering over the trees. Forest fire?

  But another three miles down the road, his headlights picked out the leaning mailbox at the end of Henry Krause’s driveway. Will took in first the box, then the deep red glow beyond it. The fire wasn’t at the campground, but at Henry’s place.

  He gunned the van up the gravel driveway, careening on the uneven surface. Will suddenly hit the brake as the silhouette of a figure dashed between his headlights and the fire and then disappeared.

  Henry? Please let it be Henry running around out there, rather than lying unconscious somewhere.

  He flung open the van door, then remembered the cell phone Andrews had given him. He pulled it out of his shirt pocket along with the fire alert card and punched in the number.

  The call was relayed to a central dispatcher. “Fire at Henry Krause’s farm! Next to Rest Haven Campground,” Will shouted.

  The dispatcher calmly asked for a name.

  “Will Jennings. I’m a volunteer.”

  She assured him the alert was going out as they spoke and he ended the call, tucking the phone into his jeans. He ran toward the blazing barn, shielding his eyes from the smoke. A noise rose above the flames, and he heard the crash of timbers falling inside. The frantic squawking of terrified birds. Henry’s pigeons. Will raced for the pigeon coops and found Henry aiming a garden hose at the one closest to the barn. When Will reached his side, Henry clawed at his arm. “My birds! My birds! You’ve
got to save my birds.”

  “Have you got another hose?”

  “Round the other side of the house.”

  “Go get it. I’ll take care of this.”

  The old man hesitated before running into the shadows. Will wanted him at a safe distance, afraid he’d try to go into the coop. He must have already opened the coop farthest away because pigeons were swooping, panic-stricken, in circles above the yard. The door to the coop that was ablaze was still closed.

  Will couldn’t even get near enough to try to unlatch it. He aimed the hose on it and as soon as the plume of steam dissipated, tried again. No use. Henry came back, dragging another hose behind him. One look told Will it wouldn’t help—the stream of water barely reached the fencing around the coop.

  “The heat’s too intense! I can’t get near the door. Turn the hose on me while I try again.”

  “You want me to soak you?” Henry looked confused.

  “Yes,” Will shouted over the blaze. He dropped the hose and ripped his shirt off to use as a glove. “Forget that,” he said, jerking his head at the hose in Henry’s hand. “Take mine.”

  Henry bent to pick up the other hose.

  “Okay, spray me now. Quickly.”

  Will pivoted so Henry could cover him. He wrapped the drenched shirt around his right hand and grabbed hold of the handle on the pigeon coop door. Steam sizzled at his touch and in spite of the soaking, Will could scarcely grasp hold of the latch. He gave one fierce pull and the handle gave. Will yanked the wire door loose.

  A few pigeons flapping against the mesh walls of the coop shot out the opened gate, but Will knew he was too late for most of the birds. The wooden housing unit inside the coop was already engulfed. There was nothing they could do now except keep the one coop wet and cool until the trucks arrived.

  “When did it start?” Will hollered.

  “I was asleep on the couch. Heard the birds squawking. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

  More than long enough for the barn to become fully involved. If Henry hadn’t awakened, the house itself might have caught fire. Will shuddered at how close the old guy had come.

  “What about that one? Can we save it?”

  Will looked over at the flames licking out from the roof of the birdhouse inside the coop. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that one. We need to keep the hoses on this one here.”

  “But my birds!” He started to lunge forward.

  Will clamped a hand on the man’s bony forearm. “No, Henry. Too late for the birds in there, but I think they’ve all escaped from this coop.”

  Henry swiped at his nose with his free arm. When he raised his smoke-blackened face to Will, his eyes were red. “Thanks anyway, for opening the gate. I couldn’t even get near it, it was so hot. At least some of them had a chance.” He stretched to look over Will’s shoulder.

  Will craned around to see clusters of pigeons sitting on the roof and eaves of Henry’s house. Their silent silhouettes against the backdrop of smoke and sky, eerily lit from the fire, reminded Will of a scene from some horror movie. He guessed that many had flown into the woods.

  The headlights of vehicles coming up the driveway suddenly bounced off the side of the house. Relief flowed through him. The unit was here and hopefully the second coop and the house itself, could be saved.

  The engine pulled up next to Will’s van, followed by the tanker truck. They’d made great time. A little less than ten minutes since his phone call. He saw Captain Andrews emerge from the engine and shout orders to the firefighters leaping down from both vehicles. Seeing Will and Henry, he walked over.

  “Looks like a replay of the Lewis fire,” he shouted to Will. “There’s extra gear in back of the truck. Why don’t you suit up?” He squinted down at Henry. “Mr. Krause, would you prefer to sit in the cab of the engine or Will’s van?”

  “I’m happy right here,” insisted the old man.

  “Not a good idea, sir. I don’t want any of my men to knock you down while they’re setting up the hoses.” He placed a hand on Henry’s elbow, took the hose from him and led him toward the engine. Will dropped the garden hose and followed them. Andrews closed the cab door, leaving Henry sitting in the dark interior, then showed Will where his gear was.

  “When I heard you’d made the call, I brought it along.” He gestured back to Henry. “Poor guy. He loved those pigeons. I see a lot of them made it out. You open up the coops?”

  “One of them. Henry got the other,” he said as he shoved his feet into the heavy-duty steel-toed boots. They were a bit snug, but safer that way than too big.

  “Any sign of Waters? His wife said he was on his way but we had to leave without him.”

  “I wasn’t at the campground. I spotted the fire from the road.”

  “Again?”

  Will shrugged. He picked up the canvas fire-resistant bunker coat and began to fasten it. Andrews studied him for a few seconds before rushing off to supervise his men. On his way back to the group, Will glimpsed Henry hunched over in the engine’s cab, staring at the blaze. There wasn’t time to say anything—even if he could have eased the man’s grief.

  He tugged on the balaclava that covered his head and neck beneath his helmet. The fabric was fire-retardant and offered some protection from the heat and sparks that could fly up under the rim of the helmet. Though Will knew all too well that even the best safety equipment could fail.

  “Jennings! You coming or not?”

  The shout roused Will. He blinked twice before he realized where he was, alive and well in Krause’s backyard. Taking a deep breath, he forced his legs forward. Andrews was beckoning to him, pointing in the direction of the first pigeon coop, now totally engulfed.

  “Get an axe and see if you can knock some of that down before the flames fly across to the other one. I’ll get Waters to keep a hose on the first while you’re doing it. Signal to him where you want him to spray. It looks like it just might burn itself out if we can narrow the perimeter.”

  Waters? When had he turned up? Will glanced sharply to the second coop and saw Sam helping a firefighter with another hose.

  He checked the strap on his helmet one more time, grabbed the axe out of the bracket on the side of the engine and headed for the coop. His heart pounded erratically and he could hardly breathe. He made himself wait thirty seconds to catch his breath and let the adrenaline ease up.

  Then a shout from behind. Waters. He couldn’t hear what the man was hollering but figured he was asking him what was wrong. Will raised the axe and began to hack away at the burning wood.

  Much later, as the firefighters stood around the engine after mopping up, talk got around to the cause of the fire. Although there was no way to tell yet how it had started, everyone was thinking it had to be the arsonist again. Everyone except Waters, who suggested Henry might have set the fire himself, maybe accidentally.

  That postscript irritated Will. “Anyone with half a brain should be able to figure out that Krause would never harm his pigeons.”

  “Maybe he wanted to collect some insurance money. It’s damn easier to burn a barn down than to raze it. Cheaper, too,” Waters retorted.

  Andrews took a wait-and-see attitude. “I’ll send a team out in the morning to start the investigation.” He turned to Will. “Can you meet us here, about eight?”

  Will thought about Annie waiting for him at the apiary but remembered he now had a cell phone. After a few more instructions from Andrews, plus a belated introduction of Will to the other members of the volunteer unit, the men began to pack up the equipment.

  “Poor old fellow,” Andrews muttered, watching as Henry tried to coax the freed pigeons into the remaining coop. “Leave that, Henry. Get some sleep. The birds will go back into the coop when they’ve calmed down.”

  “I don’t want to leave them free at night. Too many predators about.”

  “I’ll spend the night in my van right next to the coop, Henry,” Will said. “When they’ve gone ba
ck in, I’ll shut the door behind them.” He doubted he’d notice a fox or owl hunting but his proposal appeased Henry enough for him to agree to go back inside the house.

  Andrews clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks. I think he’ll sleep easier knowing you’re out here. Besides, the perp might just come back to finish the job.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I don’t want to, but you never know. This is the first loss of life we’ve had, you know, since the fires began.” He paused. “Sure hope the record holds there.” He waved a hand and headed to the engine where his men were waiting.

  He didn’t have to explain what he meant to Will. He was thinking the same thing himself. Nobody wanted to see this go to the next level—human loss.

  When the roof had collapsed, trapping him, Frank and Gino in the blazing warehouse, part of a roof truss had knocked Will’s helmet off. The balaclava had somehow twisted over his face mask, dislodging it enough to block his vision. Frank was lying under a beam, his PASS motion alarm shrilling loudly. Will knew instantly the beam was too heavy to move. Somewhere behind him, Gino was crying for help, his voice muffled under his mask and the din of the fire.

  Will made a snap decision and turned back to find Gino, pinned beneath some rubble. He bent to start clearing the debris but his mask and balaclava slipped again, blinding him. He tore off the mask and was lifting a huge chunk of burning wood when something fell on him. All he remembered was the sharp pain before everything went black.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WILL AWOKE TO BANGING. He sat up, groggy and disoriented. He was in the van, which was a good thing. But when he brought a hand up to rub his eyes, he stared down at the black soot folded into the creases of his fingers. The fire. He was at Henry’s. The banging persisted and he stumbled to the door.

  Henry was standing at the foot of the door, holding a tray of what looked like breakfast. “Thought you’d be hungry,” he said. “Where do you want it, in or out?”