“Where’s he going?” Whitaker asked, watching my father.
“Probably letting the bees know he’ll be gone for a while.”
“Letting the bees know?” he repeated dubiously.
“Papa talks to them, all the time. He lets them know about everything going on around the farm—the weather, announcements, even when there are new chicks. He says it helps them feel like a part of our family.”
Whitaker hummed, considering the notion. “Will you be all right while they’re gone?”
I lifted my lips in an attempt at bravery. “Take care of them for me, and I’ll be just fine.”
“I’ll get your mama to help as fast as I can. You have my word on that, Ellerie Downing.” He held out his hand to shake on his promise.
“Just be safe, all of you,” I said, slipping my fingers between his.
Whitaker leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees to whisper at me. “There is one thing I find myself wondering.”
I took a step closer to join his conspiratorial tones. “What’s that?”
“Who set the fire?”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. “What?”
“Fires don’t start themselves.” He looked over the fields as if expecting to see the culprit still there. “Who lit the match?”
“Mama said it was heat lightning.”
He raised one doubtful dark eyebrow. “Did you hear thunder last night?”
“Well…no, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Just think about it, okay?” He tweaked the curve of my jaw, just below my ear. “Keep your eyes out. Be careful. Stay safe.”
“You as well.”
His eyes bore down as if trying to impart a thousand thoughts that his lips would not. “Keep that clover close, you hear?”
“I will.”
Papa emerged from the house, a tiny quilt thrown over his arm. I recognized it as the swaddling blanket Sadie had used as a baby. I knew he worried they wouldn’t return before spring if the snows set in early, but I’d not considered exactly how far away that was. If they all came back—when they all came back—there would be three of them, not two. Our family would be seven strong.
I released a deep, shaking breath, sending up a prayer.
Please, God, let us be seven.
“I told the bees everything,” Papa said, pulling me to the side. “They’re all yours.”
“Mine?”
He nodded. “Take good care of them, and they’ll take care of you.”
I was staggered and stunned that he’d entrusted them to me. “But Sam—”
He held up his hands, stopping me. “Ellerie, they’re yours.”
He stepped away to tuck the quilt next to Mama, and I caught sight of Sam standing a little ways off, watching us. His eyes were dark and unreadable. I started toward him, but he feinted, pretending to check the harnesses.
With a sigh, Papa gestured for us to gather around him. “We’ll be home as soon as we can,” he promised. “All of us.”
Sadie broke into tears and threw herself at him.
“Oh, I shall miss you,” Papa murmured, pressing kisses into our hair.
“You’ve got the extra honey jars?” I asked, trying to distract his sadness.
All the bottles we’d filled last week had already sold. We’d dipped into Mama’s honey cake stash to cover her burns.
“I do.”
“And the cash too?”
It had been a struggle at first to have him take the money. He’d wanted to leave most of it with us, knowing it was the only way we’d be able to buy supplies in town. But after I’d pointed out that none of us could guess how long they’d be gone or the cost of medical treatments, Papa had finally relented.
“We’ll be fine,” I said as reassuringly as I could, making eye contact with all my siblings to get them to agree.
“We’ll miss you,” Samuel added. “But we’ll be fine.”
Merry stifled a sob.
“Ready, sir?” Whitaker called out, as if sensing my father’s wavering resolve.
I shot him a look of gratitude, and he winked back.
“Ready,” Papa said, disentangling himself from us. “Sure you don’t want me to take the first spell?”
“Stay with your wife, sir,” Whitaker said. “I’ve got everything taken care of.”
* * *
“What do we do now?” Merry dared to ask once the cart carrying Whitaker, Papa, and Mama had turned round the path’s bend and we could no longer see them.
We’d climbed onto the porch, trying to secure the best vantage for their send-off. I was about to jokingly suggest a bath—we certainly all needed one—but as I stared across the charred fields, the enormity of the task ahead of us sunk in, and its weight cut off any lightheartedness I’d wanted to muster.
What were we to do?
“Well…I suppose we ought to…We should…” My words faltered as my face crumpled and I sank to the steps. I just wanted to close my eyes and cry myself to sleep.
Sam settled in beside me, tentatively patting my heaving shoulders. “It’s going to be all right. It…it looks like a lot right now—”
“It is a lot.”
“But we’re going to get through this. We just need to outline everything into steps. Little steps that are easy to do, and before you know it, everything will be done.” I could see he was faltering as well. “So to start with…There’s no point in clearing the fields just yet, is there? The harvest is done; the bees have their winter honey. We won’t need flowers till next spring, right? There are seeds in the shed and—”
“The shed,” we said in unison.
Dread bloomed in the pit of my stomach.
None of us had gone near it since Mama had been pulled free.
“We’ll need to go through everything in it and save whatever can be salvaged,” I said decisively. “Sam, you and I can pick through the stuff. Merry, we’ll need you to make a list. Things that will need replacing.”
“What about me?” Sadie asked. “What should I do?”
“We’ll set up wash buckets in the yard,” Samuel supplied as I drew a blank. “You can rinse the things we pull out, get the soot and ash off. We’ll all take turns,” he added as he saw her face fall. She always felt she drew the short stick with chores. “See who can scrub them cleanest. It can be a contest!”