Read Online The Beekeeper's Son (The Amish of Bee County Book 1) by Kelly Irvin - Free Book Online Page B

seemed to lay to rest the sudden pause in conversation. Deborah hopped to her feet, leaving the cucumbers and onions she was thinly slicing for bread-and-butter pickles on the table, and joined Abigail. “I’ll do it.”
    Abigail picked up a washrag, ready to wipe the rims after Deborah pushed out the air bubbles. “Leila, you follow behind with the lids and the bands. We’ll get an assembly line going.”
    “What about the honey jars?”
    Mordecai King’s deep, graveled voice filled the room. He stood in the doorway, a large box in his arms filled with wooden frames covered with something white and waxy. A bee crawled along his sleeve, then zoomed across the room toward the back door, its buzzing loud in the sudden silence.
    “Mordecai!” Susan stood and began moving pots and pans and baskets of produce from the prep table. “I told you I had the canning frolic today.”
    “So you did.” He deposited the box on the table as if it weighed nothing. “But these frames are about to burst. They’re almost asgood as the ones Phineas brought in the other day. The frolic will have to include honey. Just add a few rows of the honey jars. Esther put the labels on last night.”
    “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll manage.” Susan frowned, her upturned nose wrinkling They looked so much alike in the face, but there the similarity ended. Mordecai was tall and muscled whereas his sister was short and round. “I’m sure Abigail and the girls will find it interesting.”
    “Ach, just because you think bees are the best thing since kaffi doesn’t mean everyone else is fascinated with them.” Esther set her bowl of cucumber slices on the counter and folded her arms in front of her, the picture of a mother scolding a child. “You’re looking to get a taste of Aenti’s fresh lemonade, that’s what I’m thinking.”
    “I am a bit parched.”
    “I’ll get it.” Abigail dropped the washrag on the counter, hustled to grab a clean glass, and poured the lukewarm lemonade. It sloshed over the side and ran down on her fingers. She handed it to him, feeling silly that she’d rushed and, moreover, that he could see that she had. The proof was in the sticky. “There you go.”
    Mordecai gulped down most of the liquid, then glanced around the kitchen as if taking stock of his audience. “You Lantz girls haven’t seen how we harvest the honey, then?”
    A chorus of “nees” followed the question.
    The girls sounded eager, and Abigail found herself inching closer to the box with its treasure trove of frames from the hives.
    Mordecai jerked his head toward the table. “You missed the good part. One of these days Phineas can take all y’all out to an apiary so you can see how we use smoke to calm the bees down and get the frames from the supers.”
    “I think Deborah saw all she wanted of the bees the other day.” Frannie giggled. Deborah glared. “I mean, you know, getting stung—”
    “I didn’t see anything.” Deborah craned her neck and peered over the side of the box. “I got stung before we reached the hive—the apiary or whatever—and then Phineas . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    “Phineas was a little peeved you upset the bees.” Mordecai finished her sentence. He snapped his suspenders as if for emphasis. “He told me. He’s protective of them like that. And it’s how we pay the bills.”
    “It wasn’t intentional. Deborah and Frannie were collecting wild grapes for jam. We sell that to support our family.” The words sounded lame, even to Abigail as she said them. “And I think Deborah learned her lesson. Didn’t you?”
    Deborah nodded as she crept closer to the table, her sisters crowding around her. The intensity in her oldest daughter’s face as her hand touched the edge of the box, a finger trailing down the side, surprised Abigail. It was the first time Deborah had seemed interested in anything in Bee County. “What are supers?”
    “That’s where the bees make the honey.”