The Mirk and Midnight Hour Read Online Free PDF Page A

swallowed him whole. That a VanZeldt was here on our property, so close to our house …
    The insects’ frantic droning grew louder. I shook myself. Forget the man .
    I murmured softly:
“ Tell the bees of births and deaths
Tell them all that’s true ,
And when in need do summon them ,
They’ll surely come to you. ”
    It was a bit childish—the rhyme and all—but we had been children when we first used it, and it still worked. We had probablybeen about nine years old when Rush found me crying my eyes out beneath the old magnolia tree. Pa had harshly reprimanded me for being noisy around Mama. Rush hadn’t mentioned my tears or the scolding. He had merely said, “Want to try something amazing? I read about it in an old book I found in the bookcase. It tells all about bees. It’s a secret, though. Just for us twins. Don’t even tell Laney.” Then he put his arm across my shoulders in the casual, protective way he had and led me to the gums. He told me about the waxen city of the bees inside the hives, complete with a royal court, just like in a fairy tale. He taught me the rhyme and showed me how to talk to the bees and, in times of necessity, how to call them.
    Strips of black cloth, pinned to the gums, now flapped in the gusts. When the news about Rush reached us, I had gone immediately to Laney, while Pa locked himself in his room. Laney had put her apron over both our heads as we sobbed together. From there I ran to the hives to tell the bees and to attach the streamers. Our Rush is gone . The insects swarmed up and mourned with me.
    My brother had already been dead for two weeks when we received the news. That was part of the agony—that we’d been going about our daily business, not knowing his body lay buried in a common trench. Why hadn’t I sensed it the instant his life was cut short? If only the awareness had struck me at that moment, a piece of me would have been with Rush. He would not have died so alone amid the noise and terror and horror. But I didn’t know.
    Beside the bee gums I now dropped down on my back in the spiky grass of the hollow, protected from high winds. Preserved warmth from the earlier bright sun still spread upward from the ground. This gift of mine and Rush’s was uncanny; it frightenedme a little. “My lady queen and noble bees, I summon thee,” I whispered. My fingers spread and I sensed the life and deepness and richness of the earth with my open hands, with all my body, head to toe. I willed myself to lie perfectly still. Still as a stone buried in a mountain. Even my hair I willed not to ruffle in the gusts. Images of flowers grew detailed in my mind, each intricate petal of clover and redbud and wisteria. Scents enveloped me. There was the perfume of honeysuckle and blossoms in distant gardens.
    The hum of the bees drowned out the mourning wind. Closer, closer.
    And then it began to happen.
    First one bee lit on my hand, its delicate wings whirring and brushing frantically, then another on my cheek, then more on my hair, arms, and clothing. Hundreds of sun-yellow-and-black-velvet bodies caressed and soothed. In my mind I related the havoc my father was bringing upon us, all my worries. Gradually every aching hollow within me filled with honey-gold light. With their wings they carried my essence far, far away to some elusive, glorious place, a place I was always homesick for but never could quite recall. Perhaps it was where Rush lived now.
    It didn’t last long; eventually the bees floated off. But that they still came at my summons delighted and relieved me in an indescribable way.
    I rose and went to the house, moving in a daze of wonder.
    Once I was up in my little bedroom, the torrent let loose from the sky and beat passionately against the roof. I lay on my narrow bed and sank down, down into the comforter filled with pulled wool.
    A knock sounded and Laney entered. “You didn’t come down foryour nightly honey milk, so I brought it up. There’s even a heap of