Mom had given me the necklace on our last trip here before she’d died, the summer before my nineteenth birthday, her face paler and thinner thanI’dever known it, but still managing that sly half-smile every time she told a joke.She’dhad the coin pressed at another honey farm we’d visited in theEnglishMidlandswhenIwas six, then turned it into a pendant and wore it around her own neck every day since then.Thatvisit had been what inspiredJento take a crack at beekeeping herself, too; though it would take her a visa marriage, a gay awakening, and a year of being basically homeless beforeGwenynenitself could exist.
We’d both known why she was giving me the necklace; that had been a summer of lasts together.She’dfolded my hand around the coin and then her own skeletal fingers around mine, then made me promise to look afterDad.Neitherof us could have predicted how hard he would take her death, though, drowning himself in booze every night and pushing away every attemptImade to intervene.Itwould take me a good few years to stop trying, and now, every timeIheld the coin in my fist likeIhad that day,Icouldn’t help but feel likeI’dfailed them both.Butat leastIhadGwenynen.AtleastI’dhelpedMomandJen’sdream come true.
I opened the voicemail;Icouldn’t avoid it any longer.Dad’svoice came through slowly, sounding slurred but hopeful. “Hey,Teddy.Bigmatch onFriday, thought you might wanna—”Hestopped, like he’d suddenly lost steam, then sighed. “Iknow you’re busy.Justthought, if you’re around, you could come watch.I’llorder pizza.”Hehung up before saying goodbye.
I felt a pang of guilt, butImust have reminded him half a dozen times in the last month whenIwas leaving.Itexted him:
TEDDY
I’m inWalesagain.Seasonstarted.Letme know how the game goes though?
I watched the little “Read” receipt pop up almost instantly, then nothing.
* * *
The next morning,rain hammered the valley until nearly nine, then paused just long enough to lure the birds into a raucous chorus.Iseized the window– every farmer knows not to waste a dry spell– and followedWillowout into the garden, where she got out her cabin fever-induced zoomies.Thebench in front of the retaining wall was still damp, butIperched on it anyway, boots planted in the black mud, face to the pale sun.OnceWillowcalmed down, she did her sniffy rounds, nose deep in every tuft of grass, then trotted back and stretched at my feet, content to nap now that she’d inspected the immediate vicinity.
I let my mind wander –Ithought about the hives, the soap, the roster of vegetables that needed attention– until a flash of colour caught my eye up the lane.ItwasChloe, striding up the gravel drive in a bright yellow raincoat that stood in stark contrast against the grey and green around her.Itwas splattered with mud–Icould tell that even from here– and her hair looked like it had lost a fight with a hedge based on the number of leaves caught in it.Shewas out of breath by the time she made it up the drive, but she didn’t once slow down.
I stood as she got closer. “Youwalked here?”Icalled.IguessI’dseen her arrive on foot before, but the surprise of her identity had overshadowed that particular detail.
She stopped, her hands on her hips, and tried to play it cool, but her cheeks were red, and she looked about three seconds from passing out. “Yeah,” she said, clearly trying to pretend like it was nothing. “Busdropped me in the village.Nottoo bad once you get past the murder geese.”
I blinked. “That’salmost two miles away.”
Chloe shrugged, but her hands trembled a bit as she raised them. “I’mpretty sureIwas an ultramarathoner in another life, so it’s chill.Plus, it’s only, like, half an hour.Ifyou don’t get lost.”Shesaid it in a way that made me think she had definitely gotten lost.
Irritation pricked at me.Itwas a bit irresponsible of her, wasn’t it? “Youcould have called.Jenwould have picked you up.”
Chloe looked away, scratching the back of her neck, where rain-damp hair clung to sweat-soaked skin.Iaverted my gaze, thoughIwasn’t sure why.
“Didn’t want to be a pain.Plus,Ilike the scenery.Sheep, hills, existential dread every timeIapproached a blind corner.Goodfor the soul.”
I looked her over again. “Okay, well, catch your breath.You’restressingWillowout.”
We both looked down atWillow, who was wagging her tail atChloe, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.Shewas very clearly not stressed.ButChloecollapsed onto the bench anyway, nearly missing it as she dropped, and started to petWillow. “I’llrally in a sec.Justneed to … recalibrate my respiratory system.”
I sat next to her, careful to leave a polite amount of air between us.Iwatched the clouds churn overhead, blue slicing intermittently through the grey, andIboth heard and feltChloe’sbreathing slow.
“So,”Chloesaid after a minute, “are you going to haze me, or just dump me in the nearest compost heap?”
I turned to her, surprised. “What?—”
She gave a small, tight smile. “Seemslike maybe you hadn’t gotten the memoIwould be joining?”
I shook my head, exhaling slowly. “No, butJenwants you here, and that’s what matters.”Iwas telling myself as much asIwas telling her.Outrighthostility wouldn’t get me anywhere, no matter how muchIdisagreed with the decision.
She looked down, blinking, andIcaught a glimpse of nerves behind all the bravado that had pissed me off so badly on her first day.Ifelt my annoyance waver slightly, andIheaved out a sigh– half in frustration, half in resignation.
I still didn’t fully trust her, butI’dpromisedJenthatIwould give her a chance.And, in my book, chances were best earned through hard work.SoIfiguredImight as well take her up on her offer to be hazed.AtleastI’dget some manual labour out of it, if nothing else.
I stood suddenly enough that she flinched.
“You up for some real work then, newbie?”
Chloe grinned, her confidence visibly coming back, andIgot the sense that maybe– just maybe– she’d be able to pull her weight after all, even if just out of spite.
“Lay it on me.”
