“Of course we wouldn’t have,” Jack Collins said. He shot her an exasperated look edged with apprehension.
Annie set the mail on the table and went to the sink, turning her back on them while she ran the cold water. She wet her hands, rubbed them across her face and then filled a glass. “It’s warming up out there,” she said before taking a long drink of water. She placed the glass on the counter and added, “I hope it isn’t going to be too hot in Charlotte.”
“The hospital’s air-conditioned, I’m sure,” Jack said with an indifferent shrug.
Annie stared down at her father. He looked frail suddenly, and much older than his sixty-four years. Nothing like the robust man who’d swung her over his head till she’d begged to be put down when she was a child. She could still recall her shock at the change in his condition when she’d first arrived back home to help him with the business a year ago.
The past few days Annie had been so absorbed in her own worries about checking all the beeyards after the spring setup that she hadn’t considered how her father might be feeling about leaving the farm. It was probably the first time in years—if not in his adult life—that he was handing over the operation of the apiary to someone else, and she suspected he was having difficulty accepting that. On top of that, he had to face surgery and physiotherapy a long way from home.
Her eyes shifted from the top of his wispy, gray-haired head to Shirley’s even hazel gaze. They were both worried about Jack, Annie realized, and she gave Shirley a quick smile. “At least you’ll have Shirley to watch out for you, Dad. That should make the change from country to city more palatable.”
He grunted. “The sooner I get back here, the better.”
Shirley’s eyes flicked a message to Annie.
“Best not to rush it though,” Annie said lightly. “The doctor advised you to be in good shape before coming back home.”
Another grunt. “Humph. What do doctors know?”
“Well, hopefully more about hip replacements than we do.”
He tilted his head toward her. “Maybe I’ll take that up when I retire.”
She grinned. “What, you retire?” Annie hugged him. “Don’t worry about the business. I told you I’ve got Danny McLean helping after school and on weekends. He’ll be able to come full time once school’s finished for the summer.”
“I hope he’s got his driver’s license, otherwise he won’t be much help.”
Annie stifled her irritation. They’d been through this already. “He does and his father promised him the use of their truck if necessary.”
Shirley cleared her throat. “I think we’d better get going, Jack.” She stood, collecting her purse and keys from the table.
“I’ll get your suitcase,” Annie said, moving toward the hallway.
“Shirl put it in the car already,” he said. “We were just waiting for you to get back so’s we could say goodbye.”
Now Annie felt guilty about the ice cream she’d stopped for on her way out of town. She reached for her father’s cane propped against the refrigerator and handed it to him as he slowly and painfully rose from his chair. She hated to see him moving like an old man. If he hadn’t been so stubborn a year ago, he might have been able to have the surgery in the winter, when beekeeping came to a dead halt.
On the way out to the car, Shirley told Annie she’d call her in the morning but Annie was focusing on her father as he leaned against her. She knew the surgery was nothing to worry about and knew, too, that he was otherwise in good health. She simply wasn’t accustomed to any vulnerability in a man who’d labored tirelessly and effortlessly all his adult life.
Shirley opened the passenger door and waited for Annie to help him into the car. Annie wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared.
“I’ll keep an eye on Paradise for you,” she whispered. Paradise was his nickname for their home.
“You do that,” he said, patting her cheek. “Remember, those pesky bees may wander miles every day but they always come home. And I will, too.”
After an awkward struggle getting his six-foot length into the car, Annie closed the door and bent to the open window for a last kiss.
“You may want to think about hiring another student,” her father said. “Danny hasn’t done the work before and may be a bit slow. Can’t hurt to have a third pair of hands.”
If only it were that simple. Getting Danny to work for her had been difficult enough. Her father didn’t realize that most of the local high school kids wanted easier, better-paying jobs in town.
“And one more thing,” he added, lowering his voice. “If you get a call from the people at that damn food conglomerate, tell them to go to hell.”
“Jack,” Shirley interjected.
If he weren’t going off to a hospital for surgery, Annie might have been tempted to take the bait. They had an ongoing argument about selling the business.
“I think you’ve already done that, haven’t you?” Annie reminded him instead. “We’ll talk about it when you’re back home. It won’t be that long, you know. Just a few weeks.”
He started to say something but Shirley quickly opened the driver’s side door and climbed inside. As the engine turned over, Jack leaned out the window, determined to get the last word. “All’s I’m saying is, get hold of Arnie Harris if they start pestering us again.”
Arnie was not only their lawyer but her father’s longtime friend. Wonderfully impartial, Annie thought, pretending not to hear him over the idling car. She slapped her palm firmly on the roof and jumped aside as Shirley shifted into reverse.
“Take care,” she called out as the car headed down the driveway. Annie watched until it turned onto the highway, then went inside, sat in the chair her father had just vacated and tried not to cry.
When the moment passed, she reached for the mail. There was the usual collection of catalogues from suppliers and a handful of bills, which Annie pushed aside for later. They’d only be a reminder that time was running out for the apiary. She and her father would have to come to some agreement about selling sooner rather than later. The last item was a letter addressed to her from her father’s sister in Charlotte. Annie recognized the delicate spidery handwriting of Auntie Isobel, who’d called a few days earlier to wish Jack good luck.
Annie was about to open it when she saw the end of a long white business envelope sticking out of a catalogue. Pulling it free, she saw that it had been sent to her, care of her aunt, who had re-addressed it to the farm.
St. Anne’s Adoption Agency
256 Elmgrove
Charlotte, North Carolina
The envelope shook in Annie’s fingers and she dropped it onto the table. Stumbling out of the chair, she got another glass of water and, as she drank, stared at the envelope. Maybe it was merely a request for financial support. A fund-raiser. Annie pushed that faint hope aside. Not likely. She’d had no contact with the agency for thirteen years and had almost obliterated it from her memory. Almost.
She took a huge gulp of water, moved back to the chair and sat. Finally, she picked up the envelope and tore it open before she could change her mind.
Dear Ms. Collins,
We have recently been contacted by the adoptive mother of the baby girl placed by you for adoption with our agency in August 1992. She wishes us to assist her daughter in locating her birth mother. Pursuant to the agreement in the contract signed by all parties in 1992, we are simply passing this information on to you. There is