“Not at all,” he said politely and smiled in a way that said he approved of the revolution.
“Decorating cakes?” Hunter said. “That’s the coolest job in the world!”
“My birf-day is in June,” Tyler said, implying I should decorate a cake for him.
I smiled at him.
“Well, if I still have this job in June, I’ll bring you the biggest cake you’ve ever seen!”
Tyler looked at me with the sweetest expression and said, “Isn’t Mith Holly great, Dad? Isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” he said and smiled at me with his twinkling eyes.
“But I still intend to teach at your school when something opens up!”
“Tell us a bee fact,” Hunter said. “Please?”
“Well, honey bees were used as the symbol of government by Emperor Napoleon I. Have you ever heard of him?”
“Cool!” Tyler said.
“And the ancient Greeks associated lips anointed with honey with the gift of eloquence—you know, honeyed lips?” Archie said. “And the Delphic bee was the priestess of Delphi!”
“And Utah is the Beehive State,” I said.
“It is?” Hunter said.
“Archie? Tell us some more about cargo cults,” I said.
“No, really?” he said, obviously flattered to be asked.
“Yeah, Dad!” Tyler said. “Tell us!”
“Well, all right . . .”
Archie went on to embellish the stories about the cargo cults and a mythical character named John Frum while I watched his boys’ faces. They were entranced by their father. You could see it in their eyes. This was what they all needed. To be whole. To be a normal family again. I’d brought them together again around a table to talk about their day, to share a good meal, and to give them a chance to feel okay about their lives. They even ate the spinach.
I said, “So, kids, it’s not like the bees love the flowers. It’s a business relationship.”
Tyler said, “What do you mean?”
I said, “Well, the bees use the flowers to get nectar and pollen. And the flowers know the bees will pollinate other flowers as they move around the garden. It’s all in the name of self-preservation.”
Chapter Five
All the Buzz
I brought Momma home from the hospital the next day and she seemed to be fine. It quickly became clear, to me at least, that she was ignoring her precarious state, because she refused to discuss it. She didn’t want to talk about follow-up appointments or doctors or anything at all that had to do with her health in general. Certainly not exercise.
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
Denial set in. She resumed her prone position, changed the batteries in her television remote, and went back to shopping on QVC and HSN.
She also didn’t want to discuss my job at Publix. When I told her what I was doing she set her jaw into a lock and barely spoke to me for a few days. That was actually not such a bad thing. In fact, it was peaceful.
I’d gotten in the habit of saving coupons, buying whatever was on sale, and cooking more than we needed so that I could take a meal to the boys. If they couldn’t have a momma in their kitchen, they could have me bringing supper. One day, out of nowhere, Momma called me an idiot. After all, she could only be nice for so long. We argued.
“You’re making a fool out of yourself,” she said, “throwing yourself at that man.”
“I’m not throwing myself at anybody,” I said. “I’m doing something nice. This is what doing something nice looks like, Momma.”
“I’m telling you, Holly, I know men. At some point he’s going to feel insulted by all your casseroles and spaghettis. It will be like you think he needs charity or something.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. I honestly could not see Archie feeling like that.
“Just don’t be surprised.”
I told the bees what Momma said. I swear to you the pink hive buzzed in a way that sounded like they didn’t agree with Momma. It was like my pink hive had an opinion. I’m not exaggerating. Everyone who knows anything about bees knows that they know how to reach a consensus. For example, when it’s time for the older queen bee to be replaced, the worker bees know it. They build new queen cells, load them up with healthy pupae, and flood them with royal jelly. Or, they ball her, which is a term that does not have the naughty connotation that used to travel around with the expression. It’s more like a visit from the goon squad.