A/N: Thank you for reading. The last chapter coming up and we think it will be a sweet one!
A Few Days in April
Chapter 9
Eli and Bizzy giggled with delight as they helped Paula fasten Velcro tape around her ankles.
Eli said, "One time Dad had to take off his pants when some new bees flew up his leg!" The little boy jumped around Paula mimicking the actions of his father. "He had stings here and here," he pointed to his thigh and his ankle.
"Are you telling me I'm going to get stung?" Paula asked, laughing at the boy's antics.
"No," Bizzy answered, "just stay calm and don't freak out. I don't wear gloves any more—but Mom makes us wear the head stuff—doesn't want us getting stung on our face."
Grissom handed her a wide-brim hat with netting attached. She put it on, pulling the net over her face.
Bizzy's small hands smoothed the netting to Paula's shoulders, saying "It's like a bride, isn't it? Only a bride doesn't get stung."
The three adults laughed.
Eli said, "A bride could get stung if bees liked her flowers and she freaked out!"
The children knew the bee hives were off-limits except when they went with their father—and, most of the time, they had little interest in the hives. Today, they watched as Grissom and Paula moved along a grassy path; Hank padded alongside Grissom.
The children danced around Sara as feathery clouds drifted across a brilliant turquoise sky. Small birds flittered about them. The spring rains had brought a carpet of wild flowers in a riot of pink, yellow, fuchsia, scarlet, and lavender as far as she could see. Their house bordered state-owned land—a no-hunting, no-farming stretch of green running across the valley.
"Let's pick flowers for the sisters," she suggested. She knew whatever her children gave the nuns would be accepted and exclaimed over as if it was a rare bouquet.
Eli and Bizzy waded into the field, selecting certain flowers with care. Ava and Annie picked a few low growing pink flowers and stuck them in their hair, accompanied by high giggles. Will walked a few steps before dropping to crawl, more interested in dirt than flowers. Sara gave a quick glance to the two adults before turning to her children.
The morning sun warmed the denim on Paula's legs as she kept up with Grissom. She had remembered him as a quiet, taciturn man—he had not changed much except now he was surrounded by five noisy, boisterous children and obviously in love with his wife.
"You have a beautiful place here," she said.
"Thank you—yes, we do." Grissom pointed ahead, "We're almost there."
"How'd you get into bees? I mean, I know you are an entomologist—the first time we met—remember our boss took us out to a bug covered body? But crime scenes to raising bees—I guess you raise bees—or maybe you keep bees?"
When she paused and glanced at Grissom, he was smiling.
"It came on me gradually," he said with a chuckle. "Same as a lot of things in life."
They rounded a curve on the path and the tall grass and flowers gave way to a small grove of trees and a meadow covered with unbelievable wildflowers. Among the trees were dozens of white boxes; Paula knew these were the hives—the stacked boxes were spread in a wide arc.
She could hear the hum of bees before she saw any of the flying insects.
Grissom spoke, "Did you ever hear of colony collapse disorder? Bees were dying by the thousands and by the time most of us had heard about it, honey bees were in real danger of becoming extinct. I found a hive at a crime scene back—it was 2007—and I took it to study. Then," he shrugged, "other things got in the way."
Suddenly, he laughed, saying "Did Sara tell you I proposed over a bee hive?"
"No! She hates bugs!"
Grissom pulled netting over his face, checked Paula's hat and netting and picked up a metal bar kept in a small box. "Keep your gloves on," he said. "She came to see me one day while I was working with the bees, took her glove off—you are right, she's never liked bugs—and right then, when a couple of bees were crawling on her hand, I decided I needed to marry her."
Using the metal bar, he lifted the cover from one of the hives and continued. "I—I knew I loved her. We were already living together, sharing a dog," he chuckled. "And when I saw her with the bees—knowing how she hated insects—I asked her to marry me. She freaked out." He paused and glanced at Paula. "She would never admit she freaked—but I took her by surprise and a darn bee stung her hand!"
Paula laughed. She held her hand up. "Wait a minute, Grissom. It took you nine years to pop the question?"
He grimaced before a smile crossed his face. "Yeah, it did," he said slowly. "I was a fool—and then I almost let her get away—did she tell you any of this?"
Paula shook her head.
"We sort of danced around each other for years—to be honest, I was scared to death. But we got through all that, came here and settled down," he laughed, "and started having kids!"
He pulled a frame covered with bees out of the hive. "These are the worker bees—most bees are female and workers—while young, they nurse the brood, take care of the queen. After a few days, they build the comb, store pollen, and then when about twenty days old, they become the foragers—the ones we see among the flowers."
Slipping the frame back into the hive, he pulled a second one out, inspecting it closely. Paula noticed bees landing on Grissom's back and shoulders and then flying away.
"Do the kids come here?"
"Sure," Grissom answered as he lifted the top from another hive, checking inside. "Eli and Bizzy do. The little ones don't—not yet—but the two older ones can inspect and look for the little eggs. See these," his finger pointed to cells. "Eggs. Over here is pollen—this time of year it will be different colors, and here is nectar or water."
Paula's eyes followed Grissom's finger. "How do you know if the bees are healthy?"
"The pattern—called the brood pattern—is tight. That's good. Not many dead bees around the hives."
"What caused—causes—the colony collapse? Does anyone know?"
Grissom shook his head, saying "No one knows—a combination of things including pesticides and fungicides. So many of what is used remains in the plants—like a human drinking whisky every day, all day. Sooner or later it is going to harm the body-same thing happens to bees with pesticides and fungicides."
He waved his hand. "We live in an area that's mostly organic farming—even the nuns—and have acres of land that's free of cultivation so the bees don't travel far—maybe six miles from the hives. So far we've been free of colony collapse—and our neighbors the same." He grinned. "And we sell the honey for top price—amazing what people will pay for honey!"
Paula's mouth gaped for a moment and then she started laughing. Puzzled, Grissom lowered the last frame back into its box and looked at her.
"I can't believe what you just said," she explained. "I had forgotten all about it—did you ever hear of the ALW Food Group? It was one of the first fraud cases I worked with Treasury—and Homeland Security and Commerce. The company had an office in Chicago importing tons of honey into the country—from China—then mislabeling it in a maze of false documents, selling it as U.S. honey."
"I think I did read about that case."
Paula laughed again, "At the time, I had no idea why it was so important to go through all these documents about honey! But I learned how much money is in honey business!" She poked Grissom with an elbow. "No wonder you two love it out here. The bees do most of the work!"
Grissom chuckled. "We don't make that much." Changing the subject, he asked, "Did Sara tell you about her research work?"
"No."
As they moved around the hives, Grissom related the details of Sara's role in ground-breaking research and of her teaching at the local college. Soon, Paula was holding the first frame out of the hive while Grissom checked the others. They talked easily and casually as they checked a dozen hives.
Finally, Grissom said, "We need to get back. Sara wants you to visit our neighbors before you leave. The women are more than neighbors—they are family in the best way."
As they walked back to the house, Paula told Grissom of her long-time lover. "I know we will never marry; we'll never have what you and Sara have. And I'm fine with that." Softly, she laughed. "I know when he's with me that—that he belongs to me. Not the church, bound by some promise made to his bishop."
Grissom smiled and nodded. He recognized certain aspects of Paula's life as similar to what he had chosen at one time.
Later, walking with Sara and the children to the neighbors, Paula held hands with Eli and Ava after promising she would hold hands with Annie and Bizzy on the return trip. Grissom carried Will and the conversation bounced from one child's story to another.
Eli was the one to tell the story of the cake; Bizzy admitted she was worried about the impending punishment.
Ava giggled and tugged Paula's hand. Paula leaned over as the little girl whispered, "I ate the cake—before Eli," she giggled again. "I did it first!"
A/N: Thanks for reading-one more chapter to this story! And we appreciate hearing from readers.
