Like a Bee to Honey Read Online Free PDF Page A

stung Rose’s nose as she sat in the honey house and tried to concentrate on her drawing. She’d opened both windows for ventilation, but the honey house was still warm and uncomfortable. She hadn’t expected anything different in August.
    Farrah Fawcett lounged on a little pillow in the corner while Leonard Nimoy tried to coax Farrah Fawcett to play with her. The kitten pawed at Farrah Fawcett’s tail, nudged her with her nose, and finally hopped on top of the indignant cat in an attempt to get her moving.
    The cats were here for company and, if Rose was honest with herself, protection. Of course, a small orange kitten and a spoiled white house cat wouldn’t be much protection when it came right down to it, but having the cats around gave Rose a small measure of comfort.
    This time of year, Rose usually sat outside under a tree to paint honey supers—the white boxes that made up a beehive when they were stacked on top of each other—but with all the mischief that had been happening on their farm, she didn’t dare linger outdoors by herself, and she was too embarrassed to ask one of her sisters to sit with her, even if they would have gladly done it.
    Nae , better to sit in the stifling honey house than to risk an accidental and terrifying meeting with a stranger who wanted to do her harm.
    The trouble had started over two months ago when someone had tipped over one of their beehives in the middle of the night. Since then, whoever was bent on making mischief had ripped their laundry off the line, chopped up their chicken coop, and even taken a wheel off their buggy. Last week, they had set fire to the honey house, and it would have burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for Luke and Dan and Aunt Bitsy’s two industrial-sized fire extinguishers.
    One corner on the outside of the honey house had been scorched and the inside smelled faintly of smoke, but at least the building was still standing. A few days ago, Luke and Poppy had brought new wood, fixed the damage to the outside, and given it a new coat of white paint.
    Good as new.
    If only her nerves could be fixed the same way.
    Whoever was trying to scare them had scattered the chickens, worried the bees, cut off Queenie’s tail, and terrified Rose out of her mind. Who could be so mean? Since the first time the troublemaker had tipped over the beehive, Rose had been able to think of almost nothing else. She’d bitten her fingernails down to nubs, and she laid awake at night long after her sisters had gone to sleep, listening for faint sounds of trouble outside her window as her heart pounded in her ears.
    Even though it wasn’t the Amish way, Aunt Bitsy had notified the police, but they didn’t have many clues, and they couldn’t do much unless they caught the vandal or vandals in the act.
    Would the troublemakers try to burn down the barn next? Or hurt one of her sisters? Rose flinched as her pencil lead snapped. She’d been pressing too hard.
    She wasn’t much of an artist when she was nervous.
    Rose sharpened her pencil and drew the outline of a tree on the honey super. She had painted all the hives on the Honeybee Farm with flowers and vines and butterflies, but this time she wanted to try something new: a farm scene, complete with a barn and a horse. Aunt Bitsy had bought the new hive as a wedding present for Lily, and Rose had volunteered to paint it. She thought Lily might like a farm scene to remind her of the Honeybee Farm when she didn’t live here anymore.
    Rose tried to ignore the twinge of loneliness that always accompanied thoughts of her sisters and their weddings. It wasn’t that Rose didn’t want her sisters to marry—how could she not want them to be happy?—but she and Aunt Bitsy would be left alone to care for the farm and the hives. Who would go to gatherings with her or help her make Bienenstich cake or quilt with her in the evenings? Who would protect her from