Bee Inspired for lemon lavender.
Naomi also helped me copy the logo digitally and then cut the brown paper into strips for the wrapping. Coordinating twine holds the wrapper on the bar. Red and green. Orange and pink. Yellow and purple.
“Such pretty packaging,” the only Winston daughter comments. “I’ll take six Bee Joyful. One for each of my brothers.” She pauses a moment, mentally calculating. “And I need a Bee Inspired for Sienna because she loves lemon, plus a Bee Courageous for both Shelly and Jessica.” She stops again, running through her list. “Oh, almond and vanilla…Bee Fearless for Jenn and another for Simone.” Ashley chuckles to herself.
“I think I got everyone.” Then she sighs.
“And a Bee You for Claire.” This last one is honey and sunshine as Jedd calls it, but it’s mainly honey-scented soap with a hint of a secret ingredient. He tells me it smells like me, and it’s the only one without the bee symbol but rather a butterfly instead.
A butterfly is more fitting to describe you, Bee. You’re going through a metamorphosis, and you’re beautiful.
Gah, that man sometimes.
He isn’t here today, and neither is Hannah. I wanted to do this on my own. Naomi helped me with the display of things, arranging the soap as she has practice setting up books at the library. My sister and I have a newness to our relationship, and I’m appreciating the time we spend together, getting to know one another better. Her Nathan has helped her open up herself as well.
“Beverly,” a deep masculine voice addresses me after I hand off Ashley’s parcel filled with soaps. I’m still riding the high of my first sales when I look up to see Vernon before me. My heart hammers in my throat as I tersely greet him.
“Vernon.” I don’t have anything else to offer. The loss of his friendship still stings. Taking an obvious swallow, Vernon scans the stacks creatively displayed on my table.
“What’s this?” he asks, and I respond with the obvious.
“Soap.”
He picks one up, holding it under his nose and inhaling before his eyes leap up to mine. He pulls back the fragrant rectangle to read the inscription on the wrapper and a lump forms in my throat as I realize he’s holding a Bee You bar.
“Appropriate,” he mutters, and the lump thickens. He sets the bar back on the pyramid.
“How you liking the horses?” he asks.
“I don’t have much interaction with them, but I’m enjoying getting to know Hickory.” The blonde Quarter Horse filly, pretty and slick with a spirit all her own, was a pleasant surprise.
“You should really stay away from that one. She doesn’t want anyone on her back.” The hint includes a warning and innuendo, but the horse and I have the same relationship as Lucky One and me. She’s calm around me, or maybe I’m the one calmed by her presence. It’s strange to think such a large animal can be like therapy, but stroking their coats and rubbing their noses is exactly how I feel about such beasts, and it’s what Jedd wants to host with a few of his charges. He has a veteran friend coming to help him tend the stables.
“I warned Jedd about buying that one for you,” Vernon adds, and my head shoots up.
“Jedd bought her for me?” I sound like a parrot, repeating what Vernon has said, but I’m also surprised by the comment. Jedd hadn’t mentioned Hickory was mine. He just told me he bought her at auction. Untamed and wild, he thought she needed a good home.
Vernon’s brows pinch in confusion. “Maybe I have it wrong.”
Naomi helps another person while Vernon steps aside.
“I could sell some of these in the store if you’d like. See how it goes on the retail side,” he mentions. While Grady Seed and Soil is mainly farm supplies and flowers, they have a small shop with novelty items that his sister Wilhemina runs.
“We don’t need a hand—” I don’t get to finish my word as a hand rests on my forearm. My younger sister glares at me a moment and then addresses Vernon.
“Mr. Grady, that would be wonderful. How many do you need, and by when?”
I glare back at my sister who’s squeezing my arm, cutting off my circulation like when we were children. Her warning is clear. This isn’t a handout. Vernon isn’t offering charity. He’s offering help, business help, and I need to accept it as such if I want to try my hand at selling more soap.
“I’d love to speak with Wilhemina,” I suggest. Vernon pulls a card from his pocket and writes down a number.
“You can call her directly. I’ll let her know you’ll be phoning.” With a nod, Vernon steps back from the table, and a heavy pat smacks his shoulder.
“Vernon,” Jedd addresses him. I hadn’t seen him approach, but something in his sharp tone hijacks my heart. I’m actually happy to see him, but suddenly wonder if others can see the pleasure on my face. Will they know what I’ve done with him? Will they know he sleeps in my bed each night? We aren’t really a secret, but I don’t know how I feel about publicizing our relationship. I no longer care what the Valley community thinks of me. They judge, and they moralize, and it’s none of their damn business. However, I don’t need more rumors about me.
Jedd nods to me, and the two men step aside, chatting as I turn to other potential customers inspecting the soaps. Hazel and Mabel wander past and each purchase a bar. My eye keeps drifting off to Jedd and Vernon, who move off even farther from the table while still remaining within the vicinity.
“My, isn’t this something?” The judgmental feminine voice is none other than my oldest sister, Scotia Simmons. Naomi freezes next to me.
“Scotia,” Naomi chokes.
“Sissy, how nice to see you,” I address her. Scotia cringes at the ancient nickname, and I want to kick myself for falling into a false tone with her. I’ve always sought the approval of my older sister, wanting her to like me when it felt like she didn’t. Naomi had the opposite opinion. She didn’t care if the eldest Winters sister liked her or not. Maybe it’s because I’m the middle sister. Maybe because I was the second child, but I wanted my sister’s acceptance, and I’ve never had it.
Scotia huffs in response to my greeting. Her eyes scan the soaps like she smells something odiferous. She picks up a bar with two pinched fingers as if the item were garbage and could potentially soil her. Lifting the fragrant rectangle for her nose, she inhales once with a sharp snort. Then her eyes widen and clash with mine.
“Did you make these?”
I struggle for air and force a response. “With Naomi’s help, yes.” I’m not worldly like my older sister, not as intelligent or socially accepted as her, and I hate the inferiority I feel when I’m around her. She’s my sister. Nothing makes her greater than me except the power I’ve always given her. The power to feel superior to me.
“Huh,” she remarks, setting the soap back on the pile, purposely positioning it so that it teeters to the side. My sister is a business entrepreneur in her own right, having inherited quite a bit of money upon the death of her husband. The Fried Pickle Princess made deep-fried phalluses famous. With her perfect skin, erect posture, and trim outfit, I’d be surprised if a greasy delicacy has ever graced her lips, but her claim to fame is coated deliciousness. She’s also famous for her superiority complex and her disapproving attitude.
“What do you think?” I ask, hating that I’ve asked, hating that I’m a grown woman still seeking her approval. Naomi’s hand returns to my forearm, not squeezing as hard as it did while speaking to Vernon but more in solidarity with me. Scotia’s eyes leap to the movement.
“Always a pair,” she snips, reminding us of how Naomi and I were the closer sisters, although really Naomi and Jebediah, our brother, were the closest Winters siblings. Those two had been best friends to the core, pushing our parents to the brink.
“Scotia,” Naomi finally speaks, more a warning in her tone than a greeting. Naomi never could understand our sister’s lack of attention after my accident. I wrote it off as Scotia’s embarrassment—her sister a drunk driver. Naomi considered it just downright mean an
d rather unchristian for a woman preaching the Good Word like she had a direct line to God himself.
“Another hobby?” Scotia scoffs, forcing me to recall the many hobbies I’ve had over the years, my dedication to each slowly waning over time. Am I really considering I can make this craft into a habit? A hobby into an income? Who do I think I am?
“Jedd Flemming,” his stern voice snaps me out of my pessimism, and I notice his hand outstretched for Scotia, who sneers back at the metal glint of his opposite hand. Her eyes remain on his claw, apparent as his shirt sleeves are rolled up to both elbows, exposing his left arm for what it is.
“Scotia Simmons,” she huffs, her nose rising higher as if an additional bad smell wafts in front of her. Jedd snaps his fingers, dismissing her lacking hand.
“Pickles,” he replies.
“Fried pickles,” she clarifies, lowering her nose and her furrowed brow to morph into a more surprised but pleased expression.
“Yeah, I don’t like pickles, but I’m certain the fried stick is decent.” The way Jedd drawled the st- made the word sound like something else, more phallic in reference.
Naomi’s mouth pops open, and the grip on my forearm tightens. I snort, unable to contain the sound.
“Well, I never…” Scotia states, lifting a hand for her pearls even though they aren’t present.
“I bet,” Jedd responds, and Scotia’s lower lip falls. “Nice to meet you.” His salutation is a dismissal, and our sister turns on her heels, tapping away from the table. Naomi begins to snicker as soon as Scotia is out of earshot, but I’m still startled by how Jedd stood up to her.
“Jedd, that wasn’t very—”
“The Fried Pickle Princess is more like the abominable biscuit bitch. She’s your sister?” His eyes move back and forth between Naomi and me. Naomi’s chuckles grow although a hand over her mouth tries to stifle the laughter.
“Jedd, may I see you for a moment?” I shouldn’t leave my table. I have soap to sell, but I need a second with him for more reasons than one.
Jedd sheepishly follows me out of the large cafetorium and into an empty classroom. The community center is an old elementary school turned community central for things like the Friday night Jam Session, the annual Halloween party, and the winter market.
“Did you buy me a horse?” I ask the second I’ve closed the door and pulled the shade for privacy. It’s risky slipping into a room. If I don’t want gossip, I shouldn’t give people something to talk about, but this can’t wait for some reason.
Jedd chuckles. “That’s not what I expected you to ask. I thought I was in deep horse doodoo for speaking to your sister how I did.” Jedd reaches behind his neck, scratching nervously.
“Let’s get to that in a second. Vernon told me you bought Hickory for me.”
“Well, I… Did he say that?”
“You didn’t tell me you bought her for me.” Jedd’s already told me she was a natural buck, and the previous owner tried to beat it out of her. This infuriated Jedd, and he bought her. What use do I have for a bucking bronco, though?
“She reminds me of you. The blond coat is like your hair when you were young, and her fiery spirit…well, she’s like your spirit animal. Her owner tried to beat her down, but she still fought back. You’ve become a fighter, too. Seeing as Lucky One took to you, I figured she’d take to you as well.”
My smile is a puzzled one. I’m pleased with his love for an animal and his analysis of her as my spirit creature, but I’m still so confused.
“But a gift?” I pause, wanting to cross my arms, but I hold my crutches instead. “Why would you do that?”
Jedd sighs. “Bee, you remember how we were chatting in your kitchen, and you questioned if it was strange for a man to be interested in you.” He pauses, glancing at the old chalkboard and then back at me. “It isn’t strange because that’s how I am—very interested. You also asked if I thought it wrong for a man to take his time with you, but I think I’m proving I’m giving you all the time you need. And you accused me of thinking it odd if a man appreciates you and gives you gifts, but I appreciate you and the horse is a gift.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jedd takes a quick step forward, cupping his hand around the back of my neck and tugging me so our foreheads meet. “Because you weren’t listening to me. You were too damn excited about a scrap drawing from some stranger you’re feeding, and a horse suddenly seemed inconsequential.”
I close my eyes. I’d said all those things, and he’d already bought me a gift. I slammed him with questions about my desirability, and he’d already desired me. I wasn’t listening to him, but he was clearly listening to me.
Slipping my arms out of the crutches, I lunge for him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Doing the only thing I can think of to show this man my appreciation, I kiss him with all I have, sweeping my tongue forward, begging him to take me in and allow me to apologize. I’m a fool sometimes. Our mouths clash deliciously, and Jedd slips his hand up into my shorter hair like he does. He tugs, and I moan into his mouth, wanting to take things deeper.
When I finally release Jedd, he looks a little dazed, and I remember we’re in the community center.
“What was that?” He chuckles.
“No one’s ever stood up to Scotia like that, for me, and the horse…it’s a freaking horse, Jedd. She’s not inconsequential. I love her. I love…” I stop, sucking in air before I say something I don’t think I’m ready to admit. “I love everything you do for me.” My heart hammers in my chest, and Jedd looks both relieved and disappointed in what I’ve said. Does he want me to tell him I love him? Are we to that point yet? Am I ready to say such a thing to another man and risk the rejection of him? What Jedd and I have seems innocent enough, perhaps foolish and private and fun, but love? I just don’t know if I’ll ever love again. Gift horse, or not…
Chapter Twenty-Eight
[Beverly]
“Beverly,” the harsh whisper of Jedd’s voice filters into my dream where I’m curled up in his arms, warm and toasty as the nights have grown rather cold. December is upon us, and I feel like a bear needing to hibernate. It’s silly, really, as I don’t go out much anyway. I’ve gone weeks without stepping outdoors in the past. All that has changed with Jedd.
“Bee,” another hushed call comes to me, and I nestle into the bed, feeling that phantom hug, wishing Jedd was with me. Why isn’t he in bed with me? I’ve been working hard at making soap, turning Ewell’s old office into a storehouse. Wilhemina, Vernon’s sister, took as much soap as I could offer, stating the bars were flying off the shelf for the holidays, not to mention, people wanted to buy local wares in general. She’s suggesting we add the collection to their online store, and I’m appreciative of the help.
Just Bee Bath Bars is making a splash. Naomi thought of the tagline.
“Beverly, honey.” When a warm hand touches my shoulder, my eyes spring open. Jedd stands before me in the darkness of my room.
“Jedd, you okay?” I’m slow to sit up, sleep still fogging my movements.
“Come with me,” he whispers as low as he can. He pushes back the layers of covers over me and holds out a hand.
“Where we going?” My voice squeaks quietly, although I should be scolding him for waking me. I glance at the digital clock and notice it’s after midnight. “Is Hannah home?”
Jedd shakes his head, still holding my hand as I stand.
“I want to show you something. Can you get dressed? Bundle up, though. It’s cold outside.”
Whatever it is he wants to show me, my sleep-deprived irritation quickly dissipates, and excitement grows.
“Give me a few minutes,” I ask, and he leans in, kissing my cheek before pulling back and exiting my room.
I dress as quick as I can in jeans and a thick sweater, and find Jedd waiting for me in the kitchen. He pulls out a chair so I can sit and slide into boots, and then he holds out my coat. Once I slip it on, he haphazardly wraps a scarf abou
t my neck.
“What are you doing?” I giggle as the knit length falls in loose loops around me.
“I don’t want you to be cold.” He holds out a knit cap for me as well.
“Where are we going?” I ask again, anticipation turning to excitement like a kid on Christmas, which reminds me it almost is. Jedd shakes his head, a sly smile on his lips as he holds out a hand again. Jedd and I will never be your average couple walking down a street holding hands.
I stare at the extension, my enthusiasm fading a bit. I can’t link my fingers with his, as I need to clutch my crutch support and he only has one hand that can feel my skin.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I can’t hold your hand and follow you,” I admit, look up at him with panic. Will he leave me behind if he can’t guide me?
“Actually, I was hoping we could just walk together. Lean on me, Bee. I can support us.” The simple statement prompts me to set the braces aside and reach out for his extended palm. I hop to him, and he wraps his arms around me.
“We’re like a three-legged race,” I joke to hide the discomfort of knowing I’ve put more weight on him.
“There’s no race, honey. We have all night.”
I shiver with the thought as he opens the door and leads me down the back steps. Immediately, I hear the heavy snort of a horse.
“Hickory?” I question although this one doesn’t have a blond mane like my girl.
“This is Jetson.” Jedd holds out his hand and pats the side of another new steed. “He isn’t a buck like the others. Been through too much, poor guy. I’m using him for other things.”
Jedd speaks to the animal in a soft voice. The softest he can muster with the depth of his range and the volume.
“You’re gonna be good for Beverly here, right, boy?”
“What?” My delight wains to trepidation, concerned Jedd implies I’m going to ride this thing.
“He’s skittish, but I know you have a way with my beasts.” Jedd chuckles, but I don’t find the humor. He teases me that I’m calming those he needs to stay wild, but I’m not doing anything. I just stand there and pet them, and they turn into me. Sometimes I think Jedd’s loud voice is what turns his charges reckless while I never speak to them. Silence is my only vocabulary.
Love in Deed: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 6) Page 24