That simple hat tip sends a little flutter through my stomach every time. Maybe because no one has ever bothered to be that gentle with me before.
“Hey,” Jesse says, catching Eliza as she hurls herself into his arms. Caleb wraps around his leg. “You two behave for Miss Abilene?”
“They were perfect,” I say. “We had beekeeper training.”
Caleb beams. “I’m a worker bee.”
“I’m the queen,” Eliza adds.
“I could’ve guessed that,” Jesse says.
They cling to him, relief obvious even in their chatter, steering him toward the open door.
A tightness inside me eases a notch.
They’re safe. He’s safe. They all made it back.
Wyatt gives me a small, tired smile. “Thanks for watching them.”
“Of course,” I say. “How bad is it?”
The smile fades.
Jesse glances at Marshall. Marshall looks toward the horizon, where the smoke still clings to the sky.
“Bad,” he says simply as the twins wander inside again, their chatter trailing behind them.
I step out onto the porch and pull the door mostly closed behind me so the twins aren’t between us.
“How bad?” I ask again, quietly.
Wyatt shoves his hands into his pockets. “Fire jumped a ridge. Crews are running themselves ragged. Mayor’s talking about evacuations for folks closest to the tree line, just in case the wind shifts.”
My mouth goes dry. “Evacuations.”
Jesse nods. “They don’t think we’ll have to leave Willow yet. But we’re not waiting around to see how brave the fire feels. We’re moving the animals farther out, away from the forest side.”
My mind goes straight to the hives.
“My bees,” I blurt. “If the wind changes…”
Marshall’s gaze sharpens as it lands on mine. The hard edges of his face soften. “We’re not gonna let your bees burn, Abilene.”
“If it keeps creeping this way, they’ll be right in the path,” I say. “The apiary is basically a stack of wax and sugar. It’d go up like?—”
“Kindling,” Wyatt finishes quietly.
I nod, throat tight.
“Then we move them before it gets fully dark,” Wyatt says, as if it’s obvious. “We can set them up on the far side of Willow, near the creek. Less brush, better fire break.”
“I can move a hive or two on my own,” I say automatically, beekeeper brain spinning through logistics, “but I’d need to strap the boxes, close the entrances, secure the frames so they don’t shift…”
“You’re not doing it by yourself,” Wyatt says immediately.
Jesse lifts his hand. “Doc Tucker just volunteered. I will personally supervise from a safe distance and provide snacks.”
“Heroic of you,” I say dryly.
