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She needed a man’s help and there was only one man in the world Laura trusted. The one who’d walked out of her house the previous fall and hadn’t been back since.
“Seth, it’s Laura.” She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
“Is everything okay?” Grinning at the fact that he hadn’t even said hello after all these months, Laura tried not to cry, too. She’d missed him so much.
“Yes and no,” she said now, aware of the older couple listening to her every word. “We’re all fine. It’s just that I’ve got bees in my kitchen and I don’t know how to get rid of them.”
“How many bees?”
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t believe she was really talking to him. Couldn’t cry in front of her neighbors. “Too many to count. Hundreds, maybe.”
“I’m on my way.” He hung up before she could assure him that a trip out wasn’t necessary, all she really needed was some instruction. Tell her to buy some leather gloves, let her know what can of poison would do the trick. Give her the name of a beekeeper friend.
But if she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit that he could have stayed on that phone for an hour and she wouldn’t have asked him not to come. She was a strong woman, just not that strong.
Hurrying next door to wait for him, she promised herself he’d be gone before the kids got home.
Armed with a motorcycle helmet, boots, rubber gloves that reached past his elbows and a can of Raid, Seth stepped out of his Bronco half an hour later and strode past her toward the back door that led to her kitchen.
“Are you sure you should go in there?” Laura asked, worried about him.
“Somebody has to.” His voice was muffled by the face plate on the helmet. “I’ll be fine.”
She couldn’t believe that after all these months they were carrying on as if they’d only seen each other the day before.
“Stay out here,” he commanded when she would have followed him through the door. “They’re going to be pretty damn mad when I start spraying.”
Laura watched him go, trying not to remember all of the scary things she’d heard about bees. “Be careful,” she called. There’d been that article in the paper last year—a kid had died due to a bunch of bee stings. He’d been allergic, if she recalled correctly.
Was Seth allergic to bees? God, she hoped they didn’t get inside that helmet. They’d be trapped. And angry. And—
He’d looked so good. So strong and sure. And he still filled out his jeans as well as she’d remembered. Everything else, too, for that matter. Seth’s shoulders used to make people turn around for a second look.
Trying not worry, she paced the yard for another ten minutes, wondering why weeds could grow there and grass wouldn’t. But then, that was about the extent of her life, wasn’t it? Hard as she tried, she could never get the grass to grow.
And then she reminded herself of the decision she’d made less than a week before. She’d taken the kids to church for Easter and had been moved, herself, by the sermon about faith. About hope. About their power to change lives. And she’d promised herself she’d try to have a little more of both.
So, how long did it take to kill a swarm of bees? Laura approached the kitchen door, trying to hear what was going on inside. Should she go for help? Call 911?
“All done.” Seth held open the door, helmet in hand. “Do you have a broom? It’s a mess in here.”
“You got them all?” she asked, amazed, eyeing him carefully for any sign of damage.
“Yep.” He was grinning like a schoolboy.
Laura shivered when she walked past him into that little room and saw the carpet of dead bees on her floor. She’d underestimated the number of them.
“Where’d they all come from?”
Seth was pulling at the vent above her stove. “That’s what I’m about to find out.”
While Laura swept, trying to pretend the bees were dust bunnies, Seth investigated her kitchen for possible entryways. It was almost as if that last horrible scene between them had never happened. Except that she knew it had.
“How’s Susan?” she blurted when she started to worry that he’d be thinking about the last time he’d been in her kitchen, too.
“Pregnant,” Seth grunted.
“Pregnant?” She stopped sweeping and stared. She’d never met Seth’s older sister, but from all he’d said about her, she’d have found it easier to believe the other woman had flown to the moon.
