Danner takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, making my heart leap into my throat as my pulse buzzes through every vein in my body.
The walk is shorter than I thought—and hoped for—and we quickly see his papa in the distance, already working with the hives. Our hands part, drifting down by our sides.
Danner slips into his protective gear and then helps me do the same. “This will prevent the bees from stinging us?” I ask.
Danner laughs through his netted mask. “Stop worrying so much.”
“Emilie! You’ve finally agreed to let Danner teach you how to collect honey?” Herr Alesky shouts from across the open space.
“Yes,” I say, hesitation clear in my voice. He laughs too, sounding like Danner.
Danner collects tools from his father’s wooden crate and waves me over toward the buzzing hives. My heart pounds as I walk closer, wishing I could convince myself the bees won’t hurt me. “Okay, the first thing we have to do is light up this smoker tool so we can puff out a cloud of smoke toward the hives.”
“But why would you do that?” I ask, imagining bees swarming toward us out of anger.
“The bees will think there’s a fire in the woods and they’ll retreat to their hives for safety.”
“Oh.” I understand the logic, but still take a step backward as he prepares the smoker tool.
I watch as he performs the trick of getting the bees to hide inside their hives.
“Okay, now that they’re all inside, we’re going to pull out one of the wooden frames from inside the hive box. The bees will emerge with it, but you don’t have to worry about them. I promise.”
I take another step back, still terrified, but he gently slides the frame out, careful not to tap the sides. The bees come along, still attached, but he holds the piece out in front of him and gives it a little shake. Most of the bees return to the boxed hive. Danner pulls a brush-like tool out of his pocket and sweeps away the remaining bees. He’s completely in his element. I’m so focused on watching Danner extract a perfect film of honeycomb that I forget about being terrified.
“You’re doing great,” he tells me, even though he’s done all the work. “Come on over here.” I follow him away from the hives and over to a tree stump with a metal bin and a crank. He hands me the bee-less frame and shows me where to slide it into the metal opening. “Okay, now you crank away for about twenty minutes or until your arms give out, I suppose. Then, like magic,you have fresh honey.” He makes it all sound so easy when I know his father spends hours out here every day.
I’m eager to do this part, so I turn the wooden handle in circular motions, watching honey drip from the frame. Once I lose speed and traction Danner wraps his gloved hand around mine to help. I forget what I’m doing when I realize my back is against his chest and he’s curled around me to help crank out the remaining honey. I could swear there’s a hive worth of bees inside my chest, buzzing around, fluttering wings against my insides. The sweet, floral scent permeates the air around us and the warmth of his body embraces mine. It’s a memory I’ll never forget.
“Keep cranking, okay? I’m going to go grab the next few frames.”
A void fills the space that he was standing in, and I wish he were back already. “You’re right about the bees. They aren’t coming after me. I guess I’ve been worried over nothing,” I say, chuckling.
A dull thud, a clatter, and a forced sigh of wind expelling from lungs. I spin around, finding Danner face first on the ground, a knotted log wedged between his torso and the ground.
“Danner?” I shout, chasing after him, noticing he doesn’t move after I call his name. Fearing he may be unconscious, I drop to my knees by his side and sweep his hair off the side of his face, finding him struggling to open his eyes.
“I’m okay,” he mutters.
“What happened?” I cry.
I roll him to his side, finding a gash on the bridge of his nose and a couple smaller cuts on his lips. “Oh, Danner. Oh no.”
“I’ll be okay,” he says against his swelling lip. “I just tripped.”
I frantically try to find a handkerchief in my pocket but can’t manage to do much with the thick gloves on my hands. I tear them off, despite the sporadic bees flying around us and grab thehandkerchief from my skirt pocket. I press it to his nose to stop the bleeding and scoot behind him to help him onto his back so I can prop his head up. Danner, calm as could be, stares up at me, blinking slowly as if studying something he’s never seen before. “You’re so beautiful, Emi,” he says.
Despite the heat flushing through my cheeks, taking the most flattering compliment while trying to keep my focus on his bleeding nose, I tell him to hush. Danner’s father notices what’s happening and rushes to my side, taking the handkerchief from my hand.
“He tripped,” I tell him.
“That’s going to leave a scar, son. We need to get you to the doctor.” Danner’s father is taller and bulkier than he is and can pull him up to his feet without much effort. “Young love should come with a warning label.” Danner’s father mutters the words quietly, but they were loud enough to embarrass us both.
“Will you stay with me?” Danner asks.
“Of course, for as long as you want me,” I say as we walk toward the edge of the trees.
“Wait here while I get my truck,” Herr Alesky says, leaving Danner leaning up against a tree and me by his side.
