“Drive safe,” Wyatt adds. “Roads are wet.”
“Always do,” I promise, which is mostly true.
I hang up and stare at the phone for a beat longer than necessary. Then:
“Kids!” I call, pushing to my feet. “Good news!”
Two heads snap toward me instantly.
“We’re going home,” I say.
They erupt.
There’s cheering. There’s jumping. There’s certainly no helping me tidy up the mess or packing up, but I don’t mind.
I just need a break.
When we’re done, I herd them as best I can.
Shoes go on the wrong feet. Then the right feet. Then somehow come off again.
Eliza insists on packing her “emergency backpack,” which turns out to be a book, three crayons, and a rock she’s named Gregory. Caleb tries to bring the pillow cloud with him “just in case the sky falls.”
I veto the pillow. Gregory makes it into the truck.
By the time we’re buckled in, the cabin has survived us, and I’m sweating as if I just ran cattle instead of wrestled six-year-olds into car seats.
The rain has eased to a drizzle, the kind that slicks the road and turns everything green and dark and alive again. I pull onto the road, wipers swiping back and forth, and for the first mile or so, the kids are too busy narrating the departure to talk about anything else.
“Bye, cabin!” Eliza waves dramatically out the window.
“Thanks for not burning!” Caleb adds.
“Polite,” I say. “I like it.”
Then, inevitably, the conversation shifts.
“Daddy?” Eliza asks, sweet as sugar and twice as dangerous.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you think Miss Abilene’s bees missed us?”
I glance up at the rearview mirror. She’s serious. Dead serious.
“I think they were very busy,” I say carefully. “But I’m sure they’re glad everything’s okay.”
Caleb leans forward as far as his car seat will allow. “Miss Abilene says bees can remember faces.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “She does?”
“Uh-huh,” he nods. “She said they remember people who are kind.”
Eliza gasps. “Do you think the bees remember us?”
“I…” I start, then stop, because I don’t actually know the answer, and lying to children is a slippery slope. “Maybe.”
Both of them beam.
