The Beekeeper's Ball

by Susan Wiggs

  The path intersected with a rushing stream and then connected with a rock-rimmed spring. “It’s called Mystic Creek Springs. Not many people know about it,” she said. “Only the locals.”

  “Pretty,” he said. “I like the natural pool.”

  “You’re going to like it even more when you try the water.”

  He bent and scooped his hand into the crystal clear water, and when he looked up at her, his grin was wreathed in wonder. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Not kidding you.”

  “It’s hot.”

  “A hundred and two degrees year round, or so I’ve heard.”

  “It’s a freaking natural hot springs.”

  “Right here in the wilderness.”

  “Damn. I love hot springs.”

  “There are a lot of them around here,” she said.

  He stood up and peeled off his shirt.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing?”

  Then he kicked off his flip-flops , peeled off the knee brace and shucked down his shorts. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  She tried to tear her gaze away. “Mac—”

  “You can’t bring me to a natural hot springs and not expect me to get in,” he explained, his tone utterly reasonable. He lowered himself into the pool. “Ahh, that’s magic.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  He surged over to her through the waist-deep water and took her hand. “That’s good. Don’t think. Just get in.”

  “Absolutely not.” Yet to her surprise, she didn’t mind that he’d taken hold of her hand. She liked it. A lot. It had been a long time since a man had taken her hand and she’d liked it.

  “Listen, Isabel, because I mean what I say. You can either peel your clothes off and get in the water with me, or I’ll pull you in fully dressed, and you’ll have to ride home soaked to the skin. Those are the only alternatives.”

  “Forget it.” She pulled her hand away from his, even though the warm, clear water looked tempting. “I’ll wait for you at the scooter.”

  “Chicken,” he said. “What are you afraid of?”

  Everything.

  She sniffed. “I just don’t think I’m prepared to get naked with you. Under any circumstances.”

  “Come on. What’s the worst thing that can happen?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Tell you what. I’ll turn my back. I’ll stare straight at that tree behind me, and I won’t look until you’re up to your neck in the water. Scout’s honor.”

  She knew she was being a baby, making an issue of this. And hadn’t she just decided to challenge herself more, to be less afraid? Here was a perfect opportunity to do something way out of her comfort zone. She offered a curt nod. “Turn your back.”

  He affably complied, and she slipped off her skirt and panties, and then her camisole top, and quickly immersed herself in the warm, rushing water. He was right, the hot spring felt like heaven. She slid deeper and leaned against a flat rock. “Okay,” she said.

  He turned, churning up the water. “One of these days, we’re going to do this again, and I’m not going to be a gentleman.”

  His words should have offended her, but instead, she felt a pulse of excitement. “You’re already not a gentleman.”

  He touched his hand to his chest. His very muscular chest. “Hey. I’m wounded.”

  He didn’t look wounded. As he leaned back into the warm current, he kept staring at her. She sank down even deeper, up to her chin, getting her hair waterlogged. “What?” she demanded, unable to read his expression.

  “I’ve got a confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you took off your skirt, I peeked.”

  “Of course you did. Why am I not surprised?” She scowled and scooted farther away from him. “You said ‘Scout’s honor.’”

  “Yeah, but I never said I was a Scout.” He clasped his hands together and squirted a stream of water at her. “I wanted to see for myself.”

  She wiped the water from her eyes. “See what?”

  “How you’re managing to get around with that stick up your ass.”

  She surged toward him, splashing a wave of water in his face. “Oh, my gosh, why did I think bringing you here was a good idea?”

  He opened his arms, embracing the splashing against his chest. “It was a great idea. I love it here. I even like being with you. And just so you know, you have a really nice butt.”

  “Oh, I’m so flattered,” she said, scowling at him. “It’s always nice to hear that someone thinks I have a stick up my ass.”

  “I was just joking,” he said, then mumbled, “kind of.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, ‘kind of’?”

  “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.

  She could say the same about him, but she didn’t.

  “I mean that in a good way. Don’t be so suspicious.”

  “It’s just that you’re extremely good at backhanded compliments.” She fluttered her hand through the soft, clear water.

  “Take it easy. All I’m saying is I’d like to get to know you better.”

  “You’re here for a job,” she pointed out. “And then you’re gone.”

  “Which makes me the perfect guy for you.”

  * * *

  As he brought the scooter back to the machine shop, Mac found himself liking this assignment more than ever.

  Isabel was a surprise. There were depths to her he wanted to understand, and maybe, just maybe, she would let him. She was skittish, though, not exactly distrustful, but protective of herself. At the mountaintop, she’d given him a glimpse of the girl she’d been, growing up in a lush and sheltered place. At the hot springs, he’d had a glimpse of her that was going to haunt his dreams. Yes, he’d looked. Of course he’d looked. He was only human. Under that long, printed dress, which she seemed to wear as body armor, was a figure that nearly made him groan aloud, just remembering.

  Oblivious of his thoughts, Isabel dismounted and shaded her eyes toward the slope where the beehives were. The girl she’d hired, Jamie, was up there working away.

  “You look worried,” he said, observing her frown. Even frowning, she was wildly attractive, with her dark eyebrows and full, bowed lips.

  “I am,” Isabel said softly. “Jamie’s a remarkable girl—emphasis on girl. How is she going to cope with having a baby?”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “No, but I intend to. For example, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t seen a doctor yet. So that’s going to be my first step with her. It’s incredibly important, but I don’t want to scare her off by coming across as pushy. She seems, I don’t know, keyed up, I guess. I feel as if I need to win her trust.”

  “You gave her a roof over her head. A job. I bet she already trusts you.”

  “When the time is right, I’m sure we’ll have a big talk.”

  “In the kitchen, right? That’s where you said you get all your talking done.”

  She flushed and looked away. “Not all my talking,” she said.

  “That was nice, today,” he said.

  “Yes. Thanks for taking me. And for getting this old Vespa running.”

  The thought of restoring Francesca’s scooter for Isabel made him happy. She made him happy. At first, the feeling had been so unfamiliar that he scarcely recognized it. Here at Bella Vista, he woke up feeling something unexpected, something even more surprising than his attraction to Isabel. He felt attracted to her whole world. He started picturing life right here. A permanent home, something he’d never before even contemplated. Would he? Could he? And would he feel this way about Bella Vista if Isabel weren’t part of the picture?

  That was easy. No way.

 
Which meant he was falling for her. And that, of course, was the problem. Isabel had pointed it out herself. What was the point of falling for someone when, in just a few more weeks, he was going to have to walk away?

  He had committed to his next assignment long ago. Yasmin’s father had been given safe haven in Turkey. They planned to work together on telling the truth about how Yasmin had been murdered. It was something Mac was obligated to do, not for himself but for Ari Nejim.

  After the Magnus project, Mac would shift gears and do what he always did—move on to the next project. But these days, when he thought about Isabel and Bella Vista, he didn’t relish the idea of leaving.

  He also didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t even know if he had the emotional hardware to do that. He’d married a woman in order to save her life and he’d failed.

  Isabel inspired him, though. She made him wish he could be with her without messing her up. Maybe even forever.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Why would you do that for me?” Jamie Westfall was in the commercial laundry, the facility recently installed in a long-neglected utility room in the house. Soon enough, they would be using it for guests. At the moment, Jamie was folding clothes with unhurried deliberation, making small stacks of her faded jeans and cotton tops, her towels and washcloths. She paused in her chores to regard Isabel from across the long work table.

  “What, offer you health care benefits?” asked Isabel. She plucked a towel out of a basket fresh from the dryer. “All the employees of Bella Vista are entitled to that.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” She lined up the edges of the towel and folded it into a neat square. “And I expect you to use it.”

  “I’ve never had health insurance before. I don’t even know how it works.”

  “It’s not simple but you need and deserve it. Everybody does.” Isabel took a card and a slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to the girl. “Here’s your temporary coverage card. If you like, I can help you with the online forms.”

  “Thank you. That would be great.”

  Isabel indicated the slip of paper. “There are two obstetricians in town. Both come highly recommended. I wrote down the numbers. It would be good for you and the baby if you were seen right away.”

  Jamie ducked her head as she shook out a denim work shirt that had seen better days. “Yeah. About that...”

  “Have you seen anyone?”

  “No. Well, I went to Planned Parenthood in Napa and got some information. They said the same thing. Regular doctor visits, but there was a waiting list a mile long for the free clinic. I’ve been doing a bunch of reading, taking vitamins.”

  “But you haven’t seen a doctor.” Isabel ached for the girl. The uncertainty must be so frightening. What if something was wrong?

  “I wasn’t able to afford a doctor,” Jamie said quietly. “Big surprise, huh?”

  “Now you can. No excuses, okay? I know I’m being pushy, but it’s because I care. You’re not the only one in this situation.”

  “Okay,” Jamie mumbled, taking the slip of paper. “I’ll get in touch with one of these doctors.”

  “You seem hesitant.”

  “I am hesitant.” She folded a pair of jeans, smoothing her hand over a small, fraying hole at the knee. “Last time I went to the doctor, I was in junior high. Had to go to the emergency room with a broken arm.”

  “Nothing’s broken now. Really, you shouldn’t wait.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped.

  “Then what’s stopping you?” Isabel snapped back.

  “Everything.” She practically shouted the word. At the same time, she swept the stack of perfectly folded clothes onto the floor and stared down at them, red-faced and panting. “Every stupid fricking thing in the whole world, that’s what.”

  Isabel set her hands on her hips. “Are you finished?”

  Jamie’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know anything about having a baby. Or raising a kid. I’m scared. If I go to the doctor, I’m going to have to figure out what to do. About the baby. About everything.”

  “And if you don’t go?”

  She sighed. “I know, I know. I’ll still have to decide.”

  “There’s one decision that’s a no-brainer. You need to take care of your health, for your sake and the baby’s. That means you have to go to the doctor. The sooner, the better.”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “I’ve already decided. I’m going to—”

  “Jamie.” Isabel’s irritation dissolved. She went around to the other side of the table and pulled the girl into a hug. At first Jamie felt tense, as if ready to bolt. Then she sighed and relaxed into the hug. When Isabel felt her go soft in her arms, she felt incredibly protective. “Time is on your side,” Isabel said. “You have a good long while to figure out what you want to do, and you’re safe and sound with people who care about you. We’ll support any decision you make.”

  “I know,” the girl whispered. “I know.” Jamie had been on her own since she’d left home at sixteen, and she’d done an amazing job of making her way in the world. She’d educated herself and gained practical experience in beekeeping and honey production. She’d faced challenges Isabel could only imagine. But a pregnancy was something a girl shouldn’t ever have to face without a support system.

  “Aw, Jamie,” she said softly, patting her back, “everyone’s scared when they’re about to have a baby, that’s what I’ve heard, anyway. But I’ve also heard it’s wonderful.”

  “It is,” the girl whispered. “I know it’s going to be. Sometimes when I think about it, I think it’s the best thing ever.”

  “Agreed. I can’t wait until it’s my turn,” Isabel admitted, stepping back and watching Jamie collect herself. “In my case, I suppose I’d better work on finding a guy I want to be the father of my children.”

  That drew a brief smile from the girl. “That guy—Mac—he’s still not your boyfriend?”

  Isabel thought about the hot springs, and the way he’d looked at her, the things he’d said. The way she’d looked at him and the thoughts that had gone through her head. “No. Why would you ask me that?”

  Jamie shrugged. “Because like I said before, I can tell he’s into you. And lately the two of you just seem...I don’t know.”

  Isabel did know. She hadn’t realized it was something other people could see. “We’re not,” she insisted. We can’t be. “I’ve been focused on things other than romance, like Tess’s wedding and the cooking school.” Bending down, she gathered up the spilled laundry and started refolding, piece by piece. “Men and dating—not my forte.”

  “Oh, right. What about other guys? Like, in the past.”

  Isabel most certainly did not want to discuss the past. “I’ve never been big on going out and meeting people, having a boyfriend. Never found anyone I connected with in a special way.”

  Jamie stared at her. “You say the word never a lot.”

  “Really? I never noticed—I mean, that’s an interesting observation.”

  “You’re really pretty, and cool. Hard to believe there hasn’t been someone special for you.”

  There had been, but it had gone so wrong, it scarcely counted as a relationship. More like a mistake. “I could say the same about you,” Isabel pointed out.

  “I’m a freak.” She held up a tank top and shook it out before folding it.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Hello. I heard it all through high school.”

  “Don’t let other people tell you what to think of yourself,” Isabel said.

  “Fine, but guys don’t like me. Not the right kind of guys, anyway.”

  Isabel could relate to that, all too well. “So, the
doctor...”

  Jamie picked up the last of the clothes. “I’ll go. I know it’s the right thing to do. Thank you. Honestly, there’s no way to thank you. I’ve never had anyone look after me before. It’s really nice of you.”

  “If you need anything, promise you’ll let me know.”

  Jamie placed her clothes in a neat stack in a wicker basket. In a small, almost childlike voice, she asked, “Will you come with me?”

  “Of course. Absolutely. Just say when.”

  “Maybe, I mean, if it’s okay, we could call now.”

  * * *

  Dr. Wiley had an opening later that week, and Isabel felt excited to be part of the process. The prospect of a new life coming into the world filled her with wonder. She was eons away from going through it herself, but she was glad Jamie had brought her into the loop. She liked the girl, despite Jamie’s distrust and secretiveness. Jamie reminded her, in some oblique way, of herself, years ago, returning in a panic to Archangel to escape Calvin Sharpe. There was something in the girl’s manner that Isabel recognized, an instinct to bolt and take cover. He was the worst.

  She only hoped the girl would be able to move on. It was far too easy to be trapped by the past. Isabel wanted to explain that things would get better, but Jamie would have to find that out for herself.

  While she waited, Isabel browsed through the magazines, remembering her last stay in a waiting room, the day she’d met Cormac O’Neill.

  The thought of him raised a flurry of emotion inside her, something she hadn’t experienced in...well, maybe never. It felt like a schoolgirl crush, only worse. It felt real. Like something that could last forever—if she let it.

  To distract herself, she paged through MenuSonoma, a local foodie magazine. This fall, there would be a special feature on the Bella Vista Cooking School. The photo shoot had already been scheduled for the week after Tess’s wedding. The editor had promised to feature the place on the cover. As a place to learn farm-to-table home cooking techniques in the middle of a working orchard, Bella Vista was unique.

  She scanned an article about a restaurateur on a quest through the Highlands for a barrel of the perfect Scotch, and compared a recipe for agrodolce sauce to her own, which of course made use of honey. Then she flipped the page, and her breath stopped. “CalSharpe’s Latest Venture Slated to Open Labor Day Weekend.” She forced herself to breathe, even though it made her chest hurt and her stomach churn as she read on.