Page 19 of Cherry Tree Ranch

“I’m sorry, Dad. I—”

“Is there a reason you’re always fighting me, Dahlia?” Dad interrupts. “I can call the university. I’m sure they’d let you back in.”

“I can still go to college and travel some day,” I say. “But I need to be here right now.”

“You need to get your head out of the clouds. How much money do you need?” he asks. “Your mom’s on a new medicine, right?”

“It’s a trial, so it’s free for now. But, Dad, I’m going to enter a competition at the fair. If I get into the top two, I’ll get two thousand dollars – and first prize also gets a booth at the Colorado State Fair.”

There’s silence on the other end.

“I am being realistic, I promise. I’ve been researching it and winners have gone on to sell their products in grocery stores.”

He ignores my excitement. “I’ll send some money with you tomorrow – that is, if you’re still coming for dinner. You sure haven’t made the effort lately.”

I look down, searching for words that won’t cause him to explode. “I have so much to do here… Can I come another weekend instead?”

Since Mom and I moved to the ranch, I’ve only been back to visit Dad once. The trip to see him may only take a few hours out of my day, but being around him takes days of sanity from my life. The guilt trips he triggers are on perpetual replay in my mind afterwards.

“You know, Dahlia, family is all you’ve got.”

“I understand. I’ll come,” I say, betraying myself once again to keep the peace.

“Fine. We’ll have dinner. I’ll pick up your favourite carrot cake from the bakery in town.”

I wince at the idea. It’s his favourite cake. I’ve told him I don’t like carrot cake more times than I can count. The bakery makes a honey cake Mom has got for my birthday since I was five. It’s always been my favourite.

“Oh, OK. Thanks, Dad.”

He hangs up.

I turn Blue round. I’m pulled towards the hive, towards the bees, craving the symphony of their sound. With each step we take in their direction, I swear I can hear their honeyed whispers, even from afar.

I ask Blue to walk faster, but he seems to know what I need, and he breaks into a gallop. If I weren’t so angry, I’d ask him to slow down. The red cliffs along the edge of the ranch rise up like a drawbridge and the horizon disappears, the earth encircling us.

Near the hives, I slide off Blue, his nostrils flaring and his coat slightly damp with sweat. We haven’t run like that in a long time. I unclip his lead rope from his halter and let him drink from the pond.

The cool earth under the shade of the cottonwoods makes a good place to sit. I scoot close to a hive and watch the bees come in and out of the bottom. The foragers zip back with pollen on their legs and the guards stand watch. A guard bee watches for robber bees who take what belongs to her and her family. She knows by scent who belongs to the hive and who doesn’t.

“What the hell am I going to do without a truck?” I yell at the hive.

A bee buzzes quickly on to my hand. She tiptoes across my skin on her delicate little legs. She appears to be peaceful and I take a slow, ragged breath so as not to disturb her. I pull my hand closer to my face and study her little body. “What are you up to?” I murmur – and then a rough hand lands on my bare shoulder.

I startle.

The bee startles.

Before I can convince her otherwise, her stinger projects from her body, puncturing my skin.

“Oh my gosh,” Cash says, backing away. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was calling to you back there, but …”

I look at him with wide eyes and hold my hand up. Like in a nightmare, my words become cotton balls in my throat. I open my lips to speak but all that comes out is sheer panic.

“Dahlia?” He looks at my hand. “What happened?”

I grasp my neck and breathe out the word bee, but it’s alarmingly hard to speak. Swallowing has become difficult too. Before I know what’s happening, my knees are hitting the ground and I fall to my side. My jaw muscles lock up as my breaths shorten, and I curl into a foetal position. The dirt under my face feels bizarre as my skin tingles, half numb.

Cash gets to the ground and picks up my hand. “Dahlia, did you get stung?”